Revenge
AN:When Greg is taken hostage by a man seemingly involved with the case Sherlock is currently working on, the Holmes boys must join forces to find the criminal before it's too late. But is it all just so black and white?
"Mycroft, what do you want?" The younger Holmes snaps, not looking up from plucking his violin.
"Mycroft, what's wrong? Are you alright?" John asks softly, walking over to the older Holmes carefully.
Sherlock's head snaps up with an awful crack, "Where's Lestrade? He's taken him, hasn't he?" The younger man growls in anger.
Mycroft finally looks up; his eyes are red and puffy from crying and his posture isn't quite right, the older man nods in reply.
"What?" John asks in shock, resting his hand on Mycroft's shoulder reassuringly.
"How long ago?" Sherlock snaps, for once not intending to be cruel.
"About an hour. He was supposed to go interview a witness before heading back to Scotland Yard, but he never returned. I got the call fifteen minutes ago." Mycroft sighs, trying not to cry again.
"John, get your coat. This case just got complicated." Sherlock tells his partner, walking out the room.
"We'll find him, Mycroft. After all, we've got the best men on the job." John replies reassuringly, squeezing Mycroft's shoulder.
"Thank you, John." Mycroft sighs, looking at the doctor.
"Let's go."
John and Mycroft leave the room, hearing Sherlock bang on Mrs Hudson's door.
"What's wrong, dear?" She asks softly, sensing the young man's distress.
"We need you to look after Harriet. Lestrade's been taken." Sherlock replies, his voice cracking a little.
"Oh, my dears. Goodness, of course I'll take care of Harry. Mycroft, come here, dear." Mrs Hudson replies softly, walking over to the younger man and hugging him.
"Thank you, Mrs Hudson." Mycroft smiles softly, gratefully accepting the hug.
"You're welcome, dear. Now, go on. Don't you worry about anything else. Go." She adds, ushering them out the door.
x..x
Meanwhile
"Ah, Inspector Lestrade, you're awake at last." A calm voice says, walking in the shadows of the large warehouse.
"What do you want?" Greg asks, keeping a calm tone.
"What do all psychopaths want? Power. Control. To cause destruction." The voice replies, a humorous lilt in his tone.
"I'm an officer of the law, you won't get away with this." Greg growls, pulling on the ropes that bind him to the chair.
"Oh, but I will. Because I have it all planned out, you see. All I need is the right time."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Greg asks curiously.
"All in due time, Inspector."
The man finally steps out of the shadows and lays another hard blow to Greg's already blooded face; cutting through the skin on his cheek.
"Don't worry, it'll all be over soon." The man smiles, walking towards the exit.
The warehouse falls into complete darkness once more.
x..x
"All we have are a list of potential suspects and witnesses, thanks to Sherlock." Donovan announces, her tone bitter on the latter half of the sentence.
"Who was the witness Lestrade went to see?" Sherlock growls, still angry at the current situation.
"A man named Kevin Hamsten. Lives at twelve North Cross Road." Donovan replies, checking the file.
"John, Mycroft, let's go." Sherlock orders, spinning on his heels and stalking away, not even bothering to wait for the two men.
"Thank you, Donovan." Mycroft nods curtly, following after his brother.
John follows Mycroft out, glad when he sees his partner outside waiting for them. As soon as he sees them, Sherlock signals a taxi and allows John to get in first, Mycroft sitting next to his little brother.
Mycroft doesn't miss Sherlock reaching over and clasping his partner's hand desperately; afraid he'll disappear too. The older Holmes chokes back a sob at the sight and looks out the window instead. He also doesn't miss the way his little brother rests his hand on his, a gentle reassurance for his older brother. Mycroft looks at his baby brother; all grown up and a changed man, silently he wishes he had been a better brother to Sherlock. The younger Holmes feels his brother's gaze on him and looks back at him, a soft smile on his lips. Mycroft lifts his hand from under Sherlock's and rests it on top instead, squeezing gently and smiling back at him.
It's been a long time since the brothers showed this kind of public affection for one another; not since Sherlock was a child and came to his father's study to cry in Mycroft's arms over the death of their father. That was the first time the older Holmes told his baby brother that caring is not an advantage.
How right and yet so wrong he was. He continues to wish he had been there for Sherlock more than just a constant shadow looming over him.
"We'll find him." John interrupts suddenly, still looking out the window yet clearly directing the comment to both Holmes'.
Sherlock squeezes his partner's hand again and John looks back at them, "I promise. I won't stop until we bring Greg home safe." He adds, the stone, solid determination of the soldier he is.
"Thank you, John." Mycroft chokes out, staring back out the window as tears begin to fall.
He feels a hand on his knee and looks down then back up; John is leaning across his partner to give his own reassurance to the older man. John's hand squeezes briefly but firmly, before releasing and he leans back against his seat.
x..x
"He isn't here!" Sherlock growls, pounding his fist on the door before stomping back down the steps and looking around.
"Sher, you need to stay calm." John reassures gently, walking to his partner.
"I don't need to do anything, John!" The younger man shouts, fixing his partner with a glare.
"Please, Sherlock, for Mycroft's sake. Please, darling." John replies softly, touching his partner's arm.
Sherlock looks over at his brother and sees a broken man; he knows he will have to be the strong one for a change, he'll have to take care of Mycroft for once.
"You're right, John." He says softly, cupping John's cheek. "Mycroft, have you got anything?"
"No, Sherlock, I've no idea."
"Mycroft, focus. We have to work together." Sherlock replies desperately, grabbing his brother by his arms.
"Well, we've seen what he's done so far. So, he's a psychopath, if I was a psychopath then I'd take my victim somewhere quiet. But not too far away because I want to be part of the action … A warehouse." Mycroft deduces confidently.
John chuckles despite himself and receives a look from both Holmes'. "Sorry, it's just … the first time you kidnapped me, you took me to a warehouse. I just found it ironic." He replies, giving an apologetic look.
"John, you're a genius. I could kiss you ..." Mycroft beams and hears Sherlock cough under his breath, "But I won't, obviously. But that's the connection, all of the victims were personal. They must have all come into contact with him at some point and so he's exacting revenge. In his eyes, they did wrong to him so he wanted them to pay. Really Sherlock, you don't give the good doctor enough credit. He's brilliant." Mycroft continues to beam at John, causing him to blush under the praise.
"You are, John. Absolutely brilliant. I always knew you were." Sherlock smiles widely, before walking over to him and kissing him roughly.
John smiles in response, "Well, what's the nearest warehouse round here then?"
"It's just a couple of blocks away, we should get there in no time." Mycroft replies hopefully, hailing another cab.
He gives the address of the nearest industrial estate just as Sherlock and John climb in the car after him.
x..x
"Here we are, boys." The cabbie announces, pulling to a stop and waiting for payment.
Mycroft hands some money over and mentions something about keeping the change before scrambling out of the cab.
"Thanks, mate." The cabbie calls, smiling to himself as he holds up the £50 note. "Thank you, indeed."
"Right, Sherlock, John, you go around the back and I'll go through the front." Mycroft informs the two men, walking up to the front door.
Sherlock nods in agreement before shoving John in the right direction.
Mycroft braces himself before opening the door, the harsh florescent lights burning his eyes as he walks down the hallway.
He finally comes to a door at the end and tentatively pushes it open.
"Gregory!" Mycroft calls, running over to the slumped form of his partner.
"Mycroft?" The older man whispers, his head rising with difficulty.
"Yes, my dear, I'm here. Are you alright?" Mycroft asks softly, looking over his partner's face and body.
"Apart from the cuts and bruises? Yeah, I'm so glad to see you, My."
"I know, darling, I know." The older Holmes replies, cupping his partner's face and kissing his forehead gently.
"Ah, Mycroft Holmes, how good to see you." A calm voice calls from across the large room, stepping out of the shadows.
"Kevin Hamsten. I thought I knew the name." Mycroft replies coldly, standing up straight.
"Oh, so you remember me then? Good. How's little Sherly? I heard he's doing very well for himself now. The Consulting Detective. The only one. Did you not bring him? What a shame. I was hoping for a little reunion of sorts." Kevin replies coolly, smiling at the older Holmes.
"Why are you doing this?" Mycroft growls, stepping in front of his partner.
"Don't you remember? That day that I hurt little Sherly and you and your friends beat me to a pulp. Left me for dead in an alleyway." Kevin growls back, calm demeanour now vanishing.
"What did you expect? You hurt my baby brother without due cause. But you always did pick on people weaker than you."
"He fucking asked for it! He said my mother was a cheat and my dad was a wife beater!" Kevin shouts, his voice echoing around the warehouse.
"Right on both accounts." Mycroft comments with slight amusement and pride.
"Yes, well, now you're going to pay, Mycroft Holmes. You and your boyfriend. I've waited twenty years for this." Kevin growls, holding up a gun.
"NO!" Greg screams before the shot echoes around the warehouse.
The bullet hits it's target, the gruesome crunch of metal hitting bone and Kevin laughs loudly; the only sound in the warehouse besides the muffled sobs of a man over the loss of his partner.
TO BE CONTINUED ….