Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock.

AN: Sorry! Wrong thing posted...

Chapter 2:

John sighed as he looked around. He turned to Mary, pecked her on the lips, and then turned. 'I'm going to go to work now.'

'Alright.' Mary smiled at him. 'Are you going to talk to Sherlock?'

'I'm going to work.' John frowned.

'Oh, so you're going to talk to Sherlock after work then?'

'No.'

Mary pecked him on the lips. 'I'm glad you at least shaved it off.' She said, motioning to his lips, where his moustache formerly sat. 'I'll join you later.'

John smiled at her, before leaving. He wondered briefly whether Mrs. Hudson now knew that Sherlock and...the Woman was now still alive. He sighed. Possibly. Sherlock didn't have any place to stay in except for 221B, and he wouldn't go to his brother for help.

He sighed, and then seeing the hospital loom overhead him, entered, closing the doors with a swish, wondering what horrors the hospital could inflict on him today.

'There are people over London, people who work for the same person. Sometimes, it's not a question of who. It's a question of who knows. If this man cancels his papers, I need to now. If this woman leaves London without putting her dogs in kennels, I need to know. I have certain people. They are markers. If they move, I'll know something's up. Like rats deserting a sinking ship. That would mean that they are leaving. Deserting the sinking ship like a horde of rats.'

'All very interesting, Sherlock, but the terror alert has been raised to critical.' Mycroft drawled

'Boring.' Sherlock moved a piece. 'Your move.' Mycroft frowned at his brother, wanting him to see how serious this was.

'We have solid information. An attack is coming.'

Sherlock rolled his eyes. 'Solid information, a secret terrorist organisation is planning an attack. That's what secret terrorist organisations do, isn't it. It's their version of golf.'

Mycroft frowned. 'An agent gave his life to tell us that.'

'Oh, well, perhaps he shouldn't have done. Very clearly just trying to show off.' Mycroft was silent as he debated on the probability of that.

'None of these markers of yours is in any way behaving suspiciously?' He moved another piece. 'Your move.'

'No Mycroft, but you'll have to trust me. I'll find the answer. But it'll be in an odd phrase in an on-line blog, or an unexpected trip to the countryside, or a misplaced lonely hearts ad.' Sherlock moved another piece. 'Your move.'

'I've given the Prime Minister my personal reassurance that you're on the case.' Mycroft sighed as he made his move.

'I am on the case; we're both on the case, look at us now.' Sherlock watched his brother carefully.

The beeping went off. 'Oh bugger!' Mycroft dropped the piece back inside.

'Whoopsy!' Sherlock was obviously enjoying this. 'Can't handle a broken heart. How very telling.'

Mycroft looked up almost threateningly. 'Don't be smart.'

Sherlock leaned back in his chair. 'That takes me back.' He changed his voice to one of an imitation of Mycroft when he was younger. 'Don't be smart Sherlock, I'm the smart one.'

Mycroft frowned. 'I am the smart one.' He mimicked his brother's movement, leaning back in his chair.

'I used to think that I was an idiot.' A bit of resentment was mixed into it.

'We both thought you were an idiot Sherlock. We had nothing else to go on, until we met...other children.' From his tone, one could guess that it hadn't been a pleasant affair.

'Oh yes.' Sherlock frowned. 'That was a mistake.'

'Ghastly. What were they thinking off?' Mycroft seemed genuinely confused and in disbelief.

'I think they were going on with something about making friends.'

Mycroft snorted. 'Of course, you go for that sort of thing now.'

Sherlock frowned. 'What about you?'

'Pardon?' Mycroft frowned. 'If you seem slow to me, Sherlock, can you imagine what normal people are like? I'm living in a world of goldfish.'

'Ah.' Sherlock smirked. 'But I've been away for two years. I thought you might have found yourself a...goldfish.'

Mycroft frowned. 'That certainly didn't stop you from finding a partner.'

Sherlock's smirk grew. 'But she isn't just any goldfish, is she?' He looked up as Mrs. Hudson came in, carrying tea and still gushing over how lovely it was that Sherlock was sitting in his seat. Sherlock smiled, pleased with the attention, before Mrs. Hudson asked him a question.

'Do you mind if I take the little one out? I wanted to ask Irene, but she's sleeping.'

Sherlock shrugged. 'Go ahead.'

Mrs. Hudson smiled as she walked downstairs. Sherlock stood up and made his way to where his client had left his hat. He opened his mouth to speak, but noticed Mycroft watching her go. 'Do you honestly think that this is a good idea?'

'Yes.' Sherlock looked up. 'But, then again, I always am.'

'Darling.' Irene's voice drifted from upstairs. Sherlock smiled at her as she entered, and stormy grey eyes met glasz. Irene was dressed to go out, though Sherlock knew she had no plans. 'What are you doing today? Where is Nero? And Mycroft?'

Sherlock smirked at her tone. 'Going out to see a client about something. Mrs. Hudson brought him out. Mycroft was ah, concerned, but left.'

'Should I go with you?' Irene purred.

Sherlock looked around. 'Best to stay here first. I'll go out on my own.' He pecked Irene's lips, before seeming to consider something. 'Then, again, Lestrade's asking me about a case. Not sure about it. You go to Lestrade. I'll tell him I'm sending someone.'

Irene smirked, and turned to grab Sherlock's coat, giving it to him. 'What are we waiting for?'

Lestrade stared at the rather gorgeous woman that came in, shot him a brief smile, and began to look around the room, muttering to herself.

'I'm sorry?'

Irene smiled at him. 'Hello. I'm here on Sherlock's behalf.' Lestrade nodded slowly. 'You received his text, yes?'

Lestrade nodded, still staring, before seemingly snapping himself out of it, and gestured to the skeleton. 'All yours.' If Sherlock deemed this not important enough for his attention, but still important enough to send someone, then he might as well let this woman see it.

Irene smirked, and as if reading his mind, answered the question. 'I'm afraid Sherlock has other business to attend to, Detective Inspector...Lestrade, was it?'

Lestrade nodded as she went over everything, and then pulled out a book. How I Did It, by Jack the Ripper. She snorted. 'Some sort of prank, Inspector. I'm afraid that someone set the police up.' The Detective Inspector frowned.

'Who would do this?'

'Who indeed.' Irene smiled, before looking at her watch. 'Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to get going.' As Lestrade watch her disappear out of the door, he realised that he hadn't even asked her for her name.