Sherlock's raised eyebrow of query back to Mycroft spoke volumes. Mycroft elaborated, slowly;
"Well, I should say it started with the Swiss and the Palace security - for some reason one of their Secret Service was part of the team instrumental in setting up the software. We knew, of course, but there seemed little harm in it - we monitored everything being sent. It was no more or worse than the surveillance we have set up in most European countries around the various monarchies."
John cut in, "You allow other countries to spy on our Royal Family?" His voice rising in surprised outrage.
"Obvious, John," said Sherlock with disdain, "Of course he does. Far better to have them in plain sight and under monitoring of his own. Do continue Mycroft."
"Yes, Sherlock, it is obvious, and is understood across governments. A gentleman's agreement if you like - we all have spies in our organisations and we allow them limited access and let them report back, so long as they don't cross any lines. But…" and a ghost of a frown crossed Mycroft's face, "There have been discrepancies recently. Nothing large, but small cracks in our monitoring systems. People where they shouldn't be…identity codes that don't quite make sense. Someone is in deeper than they should be. I noticed it first with the Palace."
"Of course," Sherlock nodded, "But what about the-?"
"No. Too -"
"Ah yes, I see. But still, have you thought about the…? Well of course you have." Sherlock dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. "So. Not the Swiss then, too obvious. But who?"
"Well. Quite."
Through this exchange, conducted primarily through Holmesian telepathy, John sat between them looking bewildered. When the brothers finally stopped speaking in one word sentences and sat back with their tea, satisfied that all was explained, John finally interrupted.
"Uh, gentlemen."
Two pairs of grey-blue eyes turned to face him, with identical come on John, surely you've figured it out by now withering looks. John shrugged, unintimidated by them. Sherlock glowered at him an average of 17 times a day so he'd become pretty impervious to it.
"Sherlock, you know I need more than a couple of words," he chided.
Sherlock sighed melodramatically and gave him another glare, but there wasn't much force in it. "It is boringly simple," he rattled off, "Mycroft's office has been infiltrated. There's someone close to him who is manipulating things to allow a counter-intelligence agent to get access to things they shouldn't be able to."
"So why did they take you, Mycroft?" John questioned, frowning as he processed Sherlock's explanation. "I mean, I get that there is a leak and that you need to find it and stop it. But why the kidnapping? Had you started to investigate? Got too close?"
"Because they weren't sure how much I knew," Mycroft explained, "Looking back at it now with hindsight their goals in taking me are far clearer. Their questions were designed not to force me to give up information as such, more to validate what they had already found whilst they gave their mole some time to put things in motion back in my office. We are in the process of negotiating a trade deal with the Middle East - merely days away from finalising it. There are a lot of companies - and countries for that matter - with a vested interest in proceedings. My supposition is that whilst I've been detained emails have been sent on my behalf to authorise a good number of those interested parties as part of the deal. By the time I would have been released…" a barely perceptible pause, "the deal would be complete and multi- billion pound contracts signed."
Mycroft had paused unintentionally as a moment of shock hit him at the thought that perhaps they hadn't intended releasing him, that they might have planned to kill him once the deal had been approved. To anyone else the moment would have passed unnoticed, but Sherlock saw it flash through his brother's eyes and looked at him with sympathy. It was one thing to be kidnapped and subjected to humiliation and hurt, but it was another to come face to face with your own mortality - something Sherlock had been put through himself far too many times. Mycroft, with his office job and dislike of legwork, had been sheltered from such life and death scenarios for the most part.
"So how is it no one has noticed you've been gone?" John asked, "Surely they expected you to be in contact?"
"I assume," and the word was spoken with disdain. Neither Holmes brother enjoyed having to make assumptions. They liked facts and evidence based solutions, "That as my blackberry was with me when I got into the car last Friday my kidnappers have been using it to keep in contact with my assistant and others over the past week, continuing the illusion I am at the meeting in the Czech Republic. It would not be out of character for me to communicate through email and text when away. I rarely call."
"Okay," John decided to summarise, "So you have a mole in your office assisting a spy, or spies, to manipulate trade deals for financial benefit. They took you to ensure you didn't stop the deals after you started to notice the manipulation. We don't know who or where is behind it, or who the mole is. But we do know this is on a massive scale. I mean, this meeting you should be at this week - you aren't alone in attending, right?"
Mycroft nodded in confirmation.
"Well then, how come no one has queried with your office why you aren't there? Or if the meeting was fictional from the start, how many people would have to be involved to set something like that up? Seems to me this is a lot of effort to go to for the sake of one trade agreement."
Oh I don't know," Mycroft replied blandly, "In my experience there isn't much people won't do provided the price is right. And this deal is worth a lot of money. Not everyone is as loyal as you Doctor Watson." And he flashed back to meeting John for the first time, his instant loyalty to Sherlock and his refusal to be bribed. It was why Mycroft was there now, why he knew these two men were trustworthy with his life.
Just then they were interrupted by a text alert from Sherlock's phone. He glanced down at it, then back up to Mycroft, his face questioning.
"It's Anthea. She's asking to meet with me."
oOo oOo oOo
Mycroft was instantly alert. He had trusted his assistant implicitly, but now he knew he had a traitor in his office he had to be objective. It was entirely possible it was Anthea. Improbable, but not impossible.
"I think you should meet with her," he confirmed, "We need to know sooner rather than later whether she is to be trusted or not."
Sherlock passed around his phone so they could read the message.
Mr Holmes has instructed me to pass some files on to you regarding your latest case. Please confirm you will be available to receive today at 7pm - A
"No panic code," Mycroft commented, "But it is an unusual message for Anthea to be sending. Have her come here - let's not get the general public involved."
"Agreed," John said, getting up to clear the table. "Although none of this 'we' Mycroft - you will be staying well out of sight."
Mycroft sighed. He knew John was right - after all in his battered state he would be no good in a fight if it came to that, and letting anyone else see that he was there was a risk too great to take right then. But he really wanted to be the one to assess Anthea and hear what she had to say. If she was the mole it was a deception that would strike deep into his heart. She had been with him for years and he had trusted her with many of his most private thoughts.
A text was sent -
221b Baker Street, 7pm - SH
Then it was time for action. All traces of Mycroft's presence had to be removed from the living areas. They agreed Mycroft could stay within Sherlock's room and therefore within earshot of the conversation. It was usual for the door to be closed and there would be no reason for Anthea to legitimately enter it, so he should be safe. The washing up was done, the first aid kit returned to it's rightful home, and the chairs artfully placed to betray the fact there had been three of them sitting there. Anthea was not as intelligent as Sherlock and Mycroft, but she had worked for Mycroft for long enough to pick up a few tricks and was ruthlessly observant.
Finally both Sherlock and Mycroft deemed the flat passable and they all took their positions.
It was barely ten minutes later that Anthea knocked on the door. Mrs Hudson, primed by John, let her in the front door and brought her up to the flat, where John and Sherlock were sitting in the living room in their respective chairs, John's gun hidden behind his back in case things got ugly.
Once Mrs Hudson had left Anthea put down the manilla file she'd brought with her on the coffee table, and without preamble asked Sherlock, "Have you heard from Mr Holmes in the last couple of days? I think there is something wrong."
"No, nothing from my dear brother in quite some time thankfully," drawled Sherlock carelessly, wanting to see where Anthea would go with this, "What's he done now? No doubt something tediously political." The last two words were spat out as though even saying them left a bad taste in his mouth.
"He's missing." She responded bluntly.
"How do you know?" Sherlock dropped the insouciant tone and leaned forward, his eyes hard as he searched her for any trace of deception.
"There's been something 'off' about his communications all week, since he left for the meeting in Obecnice. But then I got this email from him this morning…" she handed Sherlock her phone.
Sherlock skimmed the content of the email, then looked up at Anthea and nodded briefly. "I see what you mean. Mycroft would never use that phrase."
"I tried to call Mr Holmes but it went through to voicemail, and all I got back was a text response. I used one of the code phrases to request that he check in and he ignored it."
Sherlock continued to assess her, reading all the subtle messages her body language was sending. He thought she was genuine, someone to trust. But there were a couple of further questions he needed to ask first to be sure.
"Why have you come to me? Have you reported this internally?"
Anthea looked straight at Sherlock, her eyes cool and calm. "I came to you, Mr Holmes, because your brother trusts you and Doctor Watson implicitly. I don't know how or why but I think he is in danger. It is logical that any attempt to coerce Mr Holmes would have some kind of insider involvement to be able to get to him, so I can only assume that no one in my office is to be trusted with this news yet. I have told no one my concerns other than the two of you."
"Good," Sherlock confirmed, satisfied with the answer. One last question - he needed to use one of his own code phrases to check Anthea was not being coerced.
"And your blackberry is fully operational again? After the repairs?" Are you being made to say this? Have you been bugged?
Anthea's eyes flicked down briefly - she understood.
"I assure you my phone is working perfectly, thank you. There were no repairs needed, although I was concerned about a cracked screen but that seems to have been unfounded. And for some reason the call function on this phone appears to be compromised when on the move." I'm here of my own volition. There might be eyes on you but I don't think so. The car is bugged.
Sherlock looked across at John and nodded. He was happy with her answers - they could trust her. He knew Mycroft would be relieved. Anthea was the closest Mycroft got to a confidant these days and to have had her betray him would have been quietly devastating for him.
"I received a package this morning." Sherlock said, cautiously, watching for her reaction.
"You did?" Anthea was careful to keep her tone light and without emotion.
"Yes. Although it wasn't in the best of conditions, but still usable."
Anthea winced but keep up eye contact with Sherlock, waiting for him to tell her what he wanted her to know.
"I believe it -"
"Oh for heaven's sake you two," John interrupted, "enough of the guarded messages. If they are watching the flat they know full well, and Anthea's confirmed she's not been bugged, hasn't she?" He checked with Sherlock who nodded. "Then just tell her." And he stared at Sherlock pointedly until Sherlock gave in.
"He's here. He was kidnapped, beaten and interrogated, but escaped and came to us this morning. No one knows about this other than the three of us, and Mrs Hudson who saw him arrive."
Anthea shut her eyes briefly in relief. She might only be an employee but she cared for Mycroft Holmes and had been very afraid when his communications became increasingly erratic that he was dead. To find him here - alive - was more than she had hoped for.
"Thank you," she said simply, "May I see him?"
A/N - Thanks to all those who are following or have reviewed this story - you are all marvellously fabulous people :o) Next chapter should be up middle of next week.
Reviews, comments and con crit always appreciated x