Disclaimer: Still don't own - still sulking!
John flicked the light on and grinned up the stairs at his visitor, a slight woman wearing faded drainpipe jeans and a baggy black hoodie. Spikes of platinum blond hair poked out from under the hood, and chocolate brown eyes looked down at him appraisingly.
"Looking well, Captain" her voice was soft and slightly husky.
"Good to see you too" he walked slowly up to join her on the stairs "You're a hard person to find"
"And you ignored my calls John" there was an edge of hurt in her voice "I thought we were friends"
"Yeah, I'm sorry…"
She shook her head. "Not now. You need help – what can I do?"
Nodding towards the flat John edged past her. "Come on in"
Her hand on his arm made him pause and look back at her, his head tilted in enquiry.
"When were you last at home?"
He frowned and checked his watch
"Probably about six hours ago" he murmured, realising just how much had happened since then.
"Come on then" she said with a wink and a cheeky grin "open the door, and follow my lead"
There was a noticeable relaxing of tension in the doctor's shoulders as he opened the door and ushered his guest inside.
As she crossed the threshold, Lieutenant Ellen Baker, formerly of the MI Brigade and attached to 5th Northumberland Fusiliers, grasped John's hand and pulled him through behind her, giggling as she dragged him into the living room. Once in the centre of the room, she swung him round so that he had his back to the window, pulled him into her arms and proceeded to kiss him senseless. Never one to refuse an order, even when given by a subordinate, John readily followed her lead, with only a small portion of his mind wondering where this was leading.
When they finally came up for air, Ellen hugged him, putting her lips close to his ear and whispering "be careful what you say" then she stepped back, running a hand down his arm until she could grasp and squeeze his hand.
"Nice flat" she let her eyes rove around the room "All yours?"
"Got a flatmate" John hitched his hip against the table between the two windows, his hands clasped loosely in front of him, his eyes watching her face. He noticed the flick of her eyes towards Sherlock's room.
"That your room?" She asked.
"No" he followed her as she poked her head through the open doorway "Mine's upstairs"
She turned and raised an eyebrow.
"Come on then," he sighed "I'll give you the guided tour"
Ellen stepped around John as they entered his room and pulled him in for another kiss. She chuckled softly as she felt his body react, but kept herself pressed tightly against him. John could feel the heat suffusing his cheeks, even as he pulled her close in his arms.
"If you're serious about me moving in with you, you'll have to get rid of the flatmate" she announced, turning in the circle of his arms, her hands gently running along his forearms.
"Let me talk to him" he tightened his arms, nuzzling into her neck. He felt her shiver and knew he'd managed to elicit a reciprocal reaction from her. He smiled against her skin.
Slowly they broke apart and reluctantly moved back downstairs, wandering back into the living room.
"I don't suppose you've got anything in worth cooking? I'm starved!"
"I…um…" Unable to utter the warning that was racing around his brain, John could only watch in fascination as she walked across the kitchen and opened the fridge.
"John," she sounded resigned "you've got nothing here that I can make a meal with! What's in the freezer?" and she opened that too.
"Don't you ever eat real meals?" she asked as finally she returned to the living room.
"Well, usually we grab a take-away"
Ellen pulled a face.
"Take me out for dinner?" she pouted prettily at him, fluttering her eyelashes like a silent movie heroine, and John choked on a laugh.
"Thai?"
"Great! I just need to use your bathroom"
He pointed her in the right direction, and when she returned he held the door open for her, locking up behind them. Together they clattered back down the stairs, and once out on the street John explained the restaurant was only a couple of streets away, easy to reach on foot. To the casual onlooker they looked like any other courting couple as they headed off along Baker Street towards Park Road, her arm around his waist, his draped casually around her shoulders.
O*O*O
Alighting carefully from the rear door of the ambulance Sherlock sneered disdainfully at the wheelchair the nurse was trying to usher him into, opting instead to walk, albeit slowly and carefully, in through the side door of the safe house.
No sooner had he stepped through the door than Mrs Hudson started scolding him.
"Where is your common sense, young man?" she asked, wagging her finger at him "You should be in the wheelchair that your brother was kind enough to organise for you"
"Mrs Hudson…"
"No, I know – you don't have to tell me, you'd rather suffer than be beholden. I'm inclined to give you a piece of my mind! I'm sure John would be furious to see you struggling to walk."
"Ah" using one hand to balance himself as they walked together towards the large, well-furnished lounge, Sherlock considered his landlady's words. "And I suppose John is just waiting for you to report back to him"
"John" she replied with a voice filled with promise "will get the rough edge of my tongue when next I see him! I had to find out from Mycroft that you had been injured, so I will have a word or two to say to him about keeping me in the dark"
Sherlock grinned. "Quite right too, Mrs Hudson"
"And don't think that lets you off the hook, Sherlock. As I understand it, if you'd only listened to John you wouldn't be in this predicament now, so none of your cheek, d'you hear me?" despite the tone of her words she smiled, and helped him lower himself into the nearest comfortable chair. "Now, you stay there, I'll go make you a nice cup of tea"
As she left the room she heard him mutter something about not being able to move even if he wanted to, and had to suppress a chuckle. He was far too stubborn and pig-headed for his own good.
Taking this opportunity to glance around the room, Sherlock noted that looked like any normal large family room, with a view of the drive and the tree lined suburban road beyond. Running a practiced eye over the window frame he spotted the standard intruder alarms, as well as signs of more covert systems designed to trigger as the obvious alarms are disabled. A sneer settled on his finely chiselled face – if Banks was half as good as his brother seemed to think, neither system would keep him out. He found himself hoping that John's trust in his 'friends' was not misplaced.
The rattle of bone china shook him out of his reverie, and Sherlock looked up to see that Mrs Hudson had pressed Mycroft's minions into service. A huge designer-suited and armed man-mountain was dutifully carrying the tea tray, laden with teapot, cups, saucers, milk jug and sugar bowl. A second minion followed, carrying a cake stand with Mrs Hudson's very special fruit cake. The young man smiled.
"You do know Mycroft isn't visiting" he said cheekily
"Shame on you Sherlock, stop making jokes at your brother's expense after he's been so good as to give us both a safe place to stay"
A cloud passed over the detective's face.
"I'd rather be in Baker Street" he said quietly.
Mrs Hudson poured him a cup of tea and cut a slice of cake, handing them to him with an encouraging smile.
Eat up, then I'll let Mr Hodges here" she tipped her head towards the man-mountain "help you upstairs. They've set up an office for you next to your bedroom"
And just as she knew they would, her words lifted his expression, and she saw the thrill of the chase light up his eyes as he bit greedily into the cake.
O*O*O
Banks sat in his car, gripping the steering wheel in anger and frustration. He had hoped that by following the black car back to Whitehall he could take out his former boss, but to his dismay he watched the car bypass the government building, and carry on up Millbank towards the underground garages where the cars were parked when not in use.
Realising he had fallen for the oldest ruse in the book, and he toyed with the idea of returning to the hospital, but while he knew his covert skills were still good enough to get him back in to the area where the younger Holmes brother was being treated, he understood that he would likely find the room empty, that the bird will have flown.
Plan C then, he thought to himself as he turned his car around, pointing it in the direction of Stratford, and the converted warehouse complex where the penthouse flat boasts a much sought-after view of the Olympic Stadium.
Despite it still being fairly early in the evening, the traffic was flowing easily, and it wasn't long before he was parked just along the street from his target. For a short while he sat and watched the building, noting the pedestrian traffic through the key coded security door, his keen eyesight taking in the socio-economic backgrounds of his quarry's neighbours, studying their reactions to each other as they passed in and out of lobby.
Unhurriedly taking his mobile phone from his pocket, he dialled directory enquiries, and obtained a telephone number – now, with a humourless smile he punched it into the keypad, and pressed the call button.
In her flat Julia Steers jumped, startled, as the telephone rang, and she stared at it as if it were poisonous. Feeling jittery since finding the letter in her handbag, she considered ignoring it, but the insistent trilling grated on her already shredded nerves. With a shaking hand she snatched up the receiver.
"Hello?" her voice came out croaky, her mouth was too dry.
"Julia, remember me?"
At the sound of his voice Julia's heart sunk, and a lump of ice formed in her stomach.
"What do you want?"
"Aren't you even a little bit glad to hear from me?"
"Stop it, Mark, please stop" tears were not far away now. Remembrances of shared dinners, plans made and nights of passion welled up in her chest, and her breath caught on a sob. "Why are you calling me?"
"I wanted to hear your voice, sweetheart"
"I thought the terms of your release on licence meant that…"
"Licence? Did you really think they could dictate how I live my life?" this last was said angrily, his voice a deep, angry growl.
Please, Mark, you're frightening me!" fear forced the tears to flow, and she mopped frantically at her eyes. "We'll both get in trouble if they find out you've called me"
"And who's going to tell them, my little Julia? You?" he snarled "No, my sweet, you won't tell. You value your job, and you value your brother's freedom – remember that Julia! Your brother'sfreedom"
There was silence on the other end of the line, and Banks leaned forward slightly in his seat, looking up at the windows of the building, but there was no sign of the woman he was tormenting. Maybe he would have to pay her a visit – but not tonight. Tonight he was content to just remind her how much she had to lose if news of her brother crimes reached the ears of her paymasters.
"Now, this is what I want…"
O*O*O
The restaurant in Balcombe Street was fairly empty, but the background music made it noisy enough to camouflage their discussion. As John and Ellen sat down, the waiter handed them menus and took their drinks order.
"Want to order for me?" she looked around at their intimate surroundings, their table was tucked away in a dimly lit corner, and from this vantage point they could watch every point of access and egress, monitor the movements of both staff and diners.
John cast an eye over the menu, and when the drinks arrived ordered a mixed starter for two, and a selection of dishes to follow. They sat discussing the décor, the music, and the location of the restaurant, and while they did John took the time to take in the changes in the woman sitting opposite him. With her hood now pushed down, her spiky, elfin cut hair was so different to the waist length chestnut locks he recalled her having when they served together in Afghanistan.
The starter delivered, Ellen picked up a stick of Gai Satay and took a healthy bite of the peanut sauce covered chicken, chewing thoughtfully.
"Pat said you had trouble. I'd say that's an understatement, John"
"The main targets are my flatmate and his brother"
"Ah yes, the Detective and the British Government!" she pulled a face at his shocked expression "I didn't lose the ability to read when I left the army – I've followed your blog right from the beginning. Do you know your antagonist?"
Slowly, as they ate their meal, John recounted the events of the last thirty six hours, leaving nothing out. Ellen listened intently, nodding occasionally, asking questions and teasing out more detail as the need arose, so that by the time they were ordering dessert she was certain she knew all there was to know.
John waited patiently, knowing his companion would share her thoughts when she was ready and not before. Throughout the evening they had both watched the room, and passing trade had been steady, but now, as dessert was served, the serious night time diners were starting to flow through the doors.
Tucking into her Honey Crunchy Pudding Ellen startled the blond doctor out of his reverie suddenly declaring
"Your flat is bugged"
"Mycroft assured me he'd turned off his surveillance"
"Does he usually bug your bathroom?"
John stared. From her jeans pocket Ellen pulled a small grey box, about the size of a matchbox, and dropped it on the table between them. It looked like a snuff box, but with a small black button on the side.
"Meet 'Rover', my electronic sniffer dog. Your flat is alive with surveillance equipment, and I doubt very much it's your flatmate's brother" She pointed to the button "Press that button, and if there is live equipment it will vibrate very softly – you need it in your hand to be able to tell, any stronger reaction and it would register as interference on the spycams"
John whistled silently through his teeth.
"You have two choices here John, you can either move out" she watched his face, reading reluctance in his expression "or you can pretend you don't know, but we'll have to use somewhere else to get a team together"
"What do you suggest?"
"Go with the latter – while he's watching you in Baker Street hopefully he won't look for you elsewhere"
"Are you sure about the bugs in the bathroom?"
"No doubt" she pulled a face and crossed her eyes "He'll get to hear a lot of interesting noises – I can't tell if he has cameras in there, but hey! You've always kept yourself fit, always had a good bod as I recall"
John nodded in acknowledgement of the compliment.
"And of course, Robbie knows what my work entails – has entailed in the past – he may not like it particularly, but is pragmatic enough to know it's only a job"
At mention of Ellen's long-suffering husband, John blushed again at his reaction to her kisses, but she caught the look and laughed.
"Nice to know I haven't lost my touch!" Still smiling she held out her hand "Can I see the bullet that was dug out of the shopper?"
John pulled the evidence bag out of his pocket and carefully, out of sight of the other diners, tipped the bullet into her upturned palm. After a fairly lengthy study of the item in her hand, she pulled out her mobile and scrolled through her contacts. Satisfied she'd found the right person, she quickly hit the dial button, waiting as the connection was made and listening to the ringing at the other end.
She was on the verge of hanging up when a sleepy voice crackled in her ear.
"Ellen?"
"Malcolm, I need your expertise"
"Hello Malcolm, how are you? Long-time no see! Jesus Ellen – we don't speak for over a year and then suddenly you need me?" The voice was a cross between a snarl and exasperated resignation.
"As I recall you told me never to darken your door again Malc, but I really need your help here. I have a bullet you may be interested in – I want to know more about the gun that fired it and its owner"
"Right now?"
"Can I come to you tomorrow? I'll have a friend, and a tale, and I need discretion and, if possible, answers"
"Always – you never change Ellen Baker, never. Tomorrow morning, ten o'clock – don't be late"
Her thanks went unheard as the sound of the receiver crashing onto the cradle leapt from her handset. She looked up to see John watching her.
"Care to tell me?" he asked softly "I mean, what I could hear of his voice didn't sound exactly friendly"
"He's still pissed with me for not attending his son's funeral – I couldn't make him understand that I couldn't get home from Strandavollur in time"
"Army?"
"2 Para. Training accident"
"Shit" wiping a hand over his face, John attracted the waiters' attention and signalled that they wanted the bill. While they waited he continued "As for my little problem - do you have a plan?"
"We stay tonight at yours – I'll play drunk, so you can drop me on your couch to sleep" She stared around the room. "Tomorrow we see Malcolm; you contact Pat and Danny, and anyone they've managed to bring on board. We'll find somewhere to set up a base of operations, and see if we can't give this guy Banks a taste of his own medicine"