OUTSIDE 221B BAKER STREET
Sherlock stepped out on to the street. He turned left then right making sure that the coast was clear. Satisfied he reached out his hand towards the open door. Molly immediately took hold of his offered hand as she joined him.
"So where are we going?" she asked as Sherlock closed and locked the door.
"The Underground Network," he replied.
He led Molly down the street automatically altering his longer stride to accommodate her smaller stature.
"I can't contact them by phone as my mobile is missing. So we'll have to risk getting to their latest hideout on foot," he paused briefly before adding. "I just hope they haven't moved."
Molly could sense through their bond that Sherlock was clearly concerned about a number of things, the whereabouts of his mobile for one, but by far the strongest concern centred on her. She couldn't get an exact fix on what was causing his concern, but she got the feeling that Sherlock didn't know either. But it had him genuinely troubled.
So she sent him reassuring thoughts as she squeezed his hand.
He looked down at her briefly, a small smile touching his lips as he squeezed her hand in return.
They were several blocks away from Baker Street when they became aware that trouble was heading their way.
London was now virtually a ghost town. Those that were lucky enough to escape did so using any method they could.
Those that couldn't were caught up in the slaughter that was to follow, a slaughter that would be repeated throughout the country and around the world.
Those that choose to stay behind, like the underground network, did so knowing that the only way to survive was to stay out of sight and to make sure that you didn't stay in the same place for too long as that could lead to complacency.
Complacency could be the death of you. Literally.
As a consequence London's streets were all but deserted.
So when you heard the sound of a crowd moving towards you, it generally meant only one thing.
Trouble.
THE HOUSE OF COMMONS
Mycroft Holmes was used to getting what he wanted. He was used to other people virtually falling over themselves in their haste to get what he wanted done in a timely manner.
The only people who wouldn't were his parents, and his younger brother.
But that was blood for you.
So it was with some annoyance that Magnussen was proving just as difficult as his family, if not more so.
"If you are to be believed," he noted calmly. "You claim to have access to information that could potentially bring the current situation to an end."
Oozing confidence Magnussen responded, "Correct."
"But you refuse to hand over said information."
"Also correct." It was clear that the former newspaper magnate was enjoying making the minor government official work for every scrap of data he could get.
"May I ask why?" Mycroft queried casually, though in truth he was becoming more and more frustrated with the current stalemate.
"I am more than willing to give you the information that you require," Magnussen stated. "But before doing so, I have certain requirements that must be fulfilled."
"What you ask for is simply out of the question."
"Then the information will remain in my possession."
"God damn it man there are lives at stake," Mycroft snarled in a rare show of emotion.
"Precisely," came back the cool response.
Mycroft took a deep breath to get his emotions back under control.
"I know about the Appledore Archive," he stated, as he looked Magnussen right in the eye.
But Magnussen was unfazed. If Sherlock knew about them, then so of course did the brother. "Surely your little brother informed you where that archive is kept," he said as he tapped the side of his head. "I had no intention of giving him access, and the same goes for you. You know what I want Mycroft. Only that will bring an end to this bloody war."
"I cannot give you what you ask. It is simply not in my power."
"Oh I think we both know Mister Holmes that your statement is untrue. You are a living representative of the former government. As such you have the power in the time of greatest need to appoint someone to take control of all authorities in the country, including the government."
"I will not give you that power," Mycroft stated firmly.
"You don't have any other option.."
SOMEWHERE IN LONDON
'This way,' Sherlock directed through their bond as he quickly changed direction again to head down a dark alleyway.
About three quarters if the way down the alley Sherlock slowed his frantic pace and with his free hand he reached out until he found what he was searching for.
Molly was just registering the sound of a heavy door being opened as Sherlock pulled her through the doorway after him. He then shut the door and after a brief search located the bolt and slid it home locking them inside.
They were safe enough for now.
"What is this place?" Molly asked curiously.
"An old warehouse," Sherlock replied.
Molly lent up against the wall thankful to have something solid behind her as she caught her breath.
"That was close," she noted.
"Too close," Sherlock agreed.
They had encountered a large gang of cyborgs who were covered in blood and guts.
With so few people left in the city Sherlock was certain that the cyborgs were finding it harder to find anyone to take their anger out on.
Whoever their victims had been, killing them had only increased their blood lust.
Which was unlucky for him and Molly.
But Sherlock was discovering that there were certain advantages to the enhancements he'd been given.
Speed and strength to name but two.
As such he'd been able to give them a good heads start before the cyborgs were fully aware of their presence.
And then there was the added advantage that he knew every nook and cranny in London. They were a part of him, getting around this city was as natural to him as breathing.
No enhancements needed.
They had both just started to relax when they heard the sound of running feet.
But when Molly made to move further into the building, Sherlock shook his head and put his finger to his lips.
Molly nodded her understanding remaining where she was.
Sherlock walked quietly back to the door and pressed his ear up against it to listen.
"I told you it was a dead end. They must have slipped down another side street."
It was clear that not all agreed with this explanation, but with no others being put forward they were forced to reluctantly turn back the way they had come.
One of the other cyborgs tried to lift their spirits. "Well at least we finally got to deal with those that 'created' us."
Everyone agreed, but one did note. "A pity we didn't get them to reveal how to reverse what was done to us before we ended there miserable little lives."
"What makes you so certain they even knew how?" the first cyborg asked.
Their conversation filtered away as they left the alleyway.
Sherlock remained where he was for a moment. The cyborgs conversation had triggered something in him, but he couldn't quite latch on to it.
There was only one way to recapture the memory that was currently staying just out of reach.
"Sherlock, are you all right?" Molly asked, becoming concerned by the look that had come across his face. "What did you hear?"
"I'm fine," Sherlock reassured her as he moved away from the door and went and sat on the floor, his back braced against the wall. "I just need some time to think."
Molly watched in fascination as Sherlock pressed his hands together before placing them under his chin and shutting his eyes as he entered his Mind Palace.
"We should have prepared better," Moran said.
"There wasn't time," Moriarty retorted. "Or don't you remember?"
"Oh I remember. But that still doesn't mean that if we'd spent a little more time on research we could have prevented such a situation from happening in the first place."
Moriarty stopped what he was doing to gaze uncomprehendingly at his colleague. "When did you become such a bleeding heart?"
"Since we barely managed to escape with our lives."
Moriarty snorted down his nose dismissively. "That's the thing about hindsight. It can give you any number of possible outcomes about what you should, could or would have done. But it doesn't take into account what other factors drove you to the decision you ultimately made at the time. Cold, hard logic completely forgets the environment you were in at the time."
Moran knew what he said was true, but that still didn't alter the fact that they had jumped in feet first, money being their only true motivator.
"And anyway," Moriarty added. "If we had done the right thing then we wouldn't have got the opportunity to do this." He looked down grinning manically at their very much alert patient. "Would we Sherlock?"
Moran made no further comment, though his expression clearly showed that he didn't take the situation as casually as his partner.
Moriarty gave a dramatic sigh. "If it makes you feel any happier I actually did look into ways to fix the problem. I even did a costing to see how much more expensive it would be to produce cyborgs that were like alphas in every way."
"Yeah, but those plans are probably destroyed by now."
"Possibly. Possibly not, I put them…"
Sherlock's eyes snapped open and he scrambled to get to his feet.
"Sherlock, what is it? What's wrong?"
Sherlock walked over to Molly, took her face in his hands and kissed her soundly on the mouth. His eyes were wide and sparkling merrily, the expression on his face full of wonder and hope.
"Nothing is wrong love, in fact I think everything is going to be all right. But we have to get to The MM Corp Headquarters right now."
THE MM CORP HQ
The only reason Lestrade hadn't strangled The Woman yet was because John was forcibly holding him back.
"Nothing!" Lestrade roared. "We came here for nothing."
"They must be here somewhere," Irene argued.
"Where?" John demanded. "We've search everywhere and come up with nothing."
"I believe I might be able to help you there," noted a familiar baritone.
