Okiedokey, what we have here, is a kind of short chapter... Sozburger for that.
Thanks to my reviewers, Joo Lee and Clufie, and anyone who read it really...
Remember: Sherlock is not currently under my control. I mean to say, is not in my possession. I mean, I don't own it.
Lestrade had barely even gotten through the last round of bad jazz and elevator music. He had spent an hour on the phone waiting to be transferred to the division where this 'Mycroft Holmes' worked. He hoped it was worth it. Just as he was told for the twenty seventh time to "Please hold, and I'll transfer you..." there was a knock at the door, and Mycroft himself walked in, brandishing an umbrella.
"I'm sorry about the inconvenience, Detective Inspector, but I'm sure you'll agree it was necessary."
Lestrade looked questioningly at Mycroft. "Did I just speak to the same two people over and over again?!"
Mycroft looked amused. "No. Just the one."
Lestrade stood there, stunned. Mycroft stared back incredulously. "You are calling about my younger brother, aren't you?"
Lestrade nodded his head in stunned silence. "Yes. How do you... never mind. Do you have any idea where he is?"
"Sherlock Holmes and John Watson are in a shipping container aboard a ship with the name Northwestern currently on the Thames anchored just in front of the disused Battersea Power Station. Is there anything else I can help you with before I go and clean up what is quite frankly a shambles between us and the Vietnamese government?"
A vein in Lestrade's forehead nearly exploded. "You knew?! How could you know?! Why didn't you tell us?! What kind of sick ani...?!"
Mycroft calmly interrupted. "I had to make sure that this new... partnership... between my brother and John Watson has not affected Sherlock's loyalties."
A realisation hit Lestrade. "So... if this is your doing... and those are your guys who took them on... it means that no-one is getting hurt, right?"
"No."
"NO?!"
"We simply leaked small amounts of information to a particularly disgruntled South American weapons cartel as to Sherlock's location, his connection to myself, and any weaknesses."
He paused at Lestrade's horrified look.
"Oh don't worry, nobody's going to die."
Lestrade looked at him with frustration.
"We have people monitoring the health of my brother and Dr Watson. If anything... undesirable occurs, then we move in, taking out the cartel leader in the process. Two birds, one stone."
Lestrade shook his head and sighed. Trust Sherlock to get himself wrapped up in international affairs.
Meanwhile...
"Stop moving Sherlock! Do you know how hard it is to try to pick a lock WHEN IT'S MOVING?!"
"John, you simply have to hold the lock steady. I really don't think..."
"I DON'T HAVE THREE HANDS SHERLOCK! WHAT, DO YOU THINK I AM A MONKEY AND CAN GET MY LEG THAT HIGH?! I HAVE A GUNSHOT WOUND, FOR PETE'S SAKE!"
Teeheehee John... and DUN DUN DUNNNNN! Did anyone see that coming?! The story ends rather quickly from now on, I'm afraid.
I'd like some reviews, remember that 20 is my goal (I only need 4 left!) before the next chapter.
Seriously, I'm not asking for a deep and meaningful essay on the themes and stuff in here. Just a word or two would suffice. (hey, a review's a review!)
Thanks to everyone who has read this far into my story...
Kimbee