Doctor Morgan managed to avoid the sight of ever CCTV in town, but it wasn't as easy as he remembered. "I'm getting to old for this." He hissed, hailing a cab he managed to keep his head down and the tourist cap on his head bearing the union jack shadowed his face.
"Where to?" The cabbie asked politely and Morgan gave an address he thought he'd never give again. He needed to do this and he had only one chance, however after the last twenty four hours he just had, he was confident that it was possible.
He glanced at his mobile, the live feed showed a still unconscious Doctor Watson.
"It's the price you pay for getting involved with a Holmes." The doctor's American accent fell away.
He had the cabbie drop him off two blocks away from the Diogenes club, Mycroft most certainly was here, and maybe even Sherlock. If the famous consulting detective truly cared for his Doctor friend like everyone seemed to think then that's were he would be, it was a funny thought. The older man stuffed his hands into the black hoodie he was wearing keeping to the edges of the buildings still out of sight of the CCTV.
The Doctor thought of Sherlock Holmes actually going to Mycroft for help, the two would have received the very alarming text. Mycroft knew enough informants that one would have let this little kidnapping of a certain blond doctor slip out.
Information was power when it came to Mycroft Holmes and that bit of info he would more than likely offer a great deal for. Doctor Morgan wondered over this revelation, since meeting John Watson he wondered what exactly the Holmes brothers saw in the ordinary man.
There was nothing John Watson a former soldier could give the spoiled Sherlock Holmes or the cynical Mycroft. The veteran had no money, no family connections he was smart but not a genius.
After spending a few months with Doctor Watson in Columbia the graying older man could see that John H. Watson was a good man. He was loyal, brave and ordinary. He wore brown jumpers, and drank tea without sugar, he smiled with his eyes and though the man was soft spoken and often quiet in no way was he a pushover or a coward.
He was a good man, and the older doctor/soldier had thought that such men were no longer in existence. It was unfair that such a man would lose so much because of his ill placed loyalty and friendship.
John Watson lost his wife and child because he chose to befriend a spoiled, entitled trust fund brat, an addict that had a power hungry older brother watching over him. Cleaning up and forever covering up the younger Holmesin discretions and mistakes.
The good Doctorhad written the romanticized version of the so called famous consulting detectives faked death and return. Hell you would need to be living under a rock to miss that bit of sensationalized rubbish. And then there was Doctor Watson's blog, Morgan refused to read whatever sentimentalized scribbles the poor misguided man would have lain out.
John Watson would only see the good in people and easily forgive the bad. Morgan caught that right off, the man was a bloody saint and it was almost disgusting. The poor idiot had been taken in by the reckless supposed ex addict, if one could ever be an ex drug addict and the most disturbing bit was the good Doctor had faith in Mycroft Holmes.
Mycroft Holmes trusted no one and would turn anyone into a damn asset, only to toss them aside once their usefulness had proven ineffectual. The notorious Ice Man was no doubt keeping John Watson alive and healthy because he was the glorified babysitter for the wayward little brother. The sick thing was that John couldn't see the forest for the trees.
The older man patted the weapon in his pocket, he loathed to attend this reunion but he might as well say his peace. He wondered just how much leverage he could fain, not John. Mycroft would write the army surgeon off easily, just another casualty to war. Sherlock would be put out and need to find a newer plaything to entertain him. No, Morgan had old intel he could use, but he first needed to use some of Mycroft's resources. He needed to talk to Q, the little bastard wasn't answering his mobile and he promised to call two nights ago. Something was wrong.
Slipping into the Diogenes was easy almost too much so, the old soldier crept down the hall, finding no resistance, it was late after all. He found the office that just had to be Mycroft's, it screamed posh and pompous. He had remodeled since the last time the graying red haired man had been in. Entering he went straight to the mini bar pouring himself a much deserved glass of scotch.
He could hear arguing and approaching feet, the tall man in the black hoodie and blue and red baseball cap remained seated as the two Holmes brothers entered.
"It's been nearly 48 hours Mycroft! Your people have nothing! Nothing! No answers! Just the footage from the airport and that damn text."
Sherlock started to pace, "He could be anywhere by now. He could be injured or-" Sherlock swallowed back his running thoughts.
Mycroft shut the door to his office, "Little brother I've told you the corridors aren't the place for this conversation."
"Right, wouldn't want to be overheard now." The tall graying man remained seated sipping the expensive scotch.
Mycroft and Sherlock turned eyes narrowing on the figure sitting smugly in the high wing backed red chair.
"Brothers, you look as if you've seen a ghost."
~0~
"Now Quartermaster. What we want to know is what exactly have you been telling Doctor Watson?"
Q blinked back the tears that had hazed his already blurred vision, his face throbbed, and his ribs ached every time he took a breath. "Come on kid, we know you were in constant contact with him while he was in Colombia. "
Q, winced spiting out the blood pooling in his mouth, "Who?"
"John Watson. Don't pretend to be a fool Q it doesn't become you. We all know you've been in constant contact with Doctor Watson for the past couple of months. We have been monitoring your communications."
"If that were so you would know I wasn't in contact with Doctor Watson."
"Lies!" Q was ready for the Italian's heavy fist to catch him hard on the left side of his face. Jaw throbbing, head pounding and his hands were tied tightly against his back. "Now! Tell me, once more. What did you tell him? Did you bring him the insane little theories you've come up with?"
Q didn't answer he only continued to struggle with breathing.
"No matter Meschino, dearest Doctor Watson will be joining us very soon. My boss has sent two of his best to retrieve him. And then we will get out of him what you withhold. If not at least the boss says I can have more fun with him. Apparently we have to keep you alive. There are several buyers interested in you and your skills."