Disclaimer: Well, everyone was right Neos Plantanos is pretty. Of course, it's Greece and until this trip I'd only ever been to Baja, Mexico and Prince Edward Island, Canada (which is SO green and pretty) so anywhere is going to be pretty even the Sahara. Please don't say I need to go there! Still no Eros but I'm not despairing and I'm no longer ill. I will have Lestrade if it's the last thing I do. But he's not yet my blankie. Neither are any of the others. And I'm a bit poorer today than yesterday. I paid some bills and now I'm nearly broke again. Funny how that happens.

A/N: Last chapter of The Assistant. Hope you liked it and I'll see you next story.

My Final Test

I didn't know at the time that everything for the past month and a half had been a test. Of course, I don't think the Holmes' brothers thought it was either. Their minds don't work like everyone else's but you already knew that, didn't you?

What kind of test? You mean you haven't figured it out from everything I've said? Maybe Sherlock's right: most people are idiots. I'll tell you though because while I have become an honorary Holmes I'm one of the nice ones, like John. The six weeks I'd been working for Mycroft was a test of my viability as a Holmes.

Sherlock, as you know, is a magnet for trouble. To become a Holmes, though they never say it and they are not even aware of this fact, one must either keep trouble from finding Sherlock or voluntarily dig him out of trouble once it's found him. Keeping him away from trouble is a nearly impossible task and the only person truly capable of that task is John. The rest of us usually only manage damage control.

We had left Sherlock's flat that morning and gone to one of Mycroft's offices. I kept one eye on the CCTV feeds that were following Sherlock and the other on the agents that were compromised. So far only the Israeli agents were missing. Unfortunately two were already dead, one was still missing and the last two that Lord Acton-Myers had known about were laying low until we could send an extraction team. I had delegated the task of informing the families of the dead agents to one of our on call grief counselors. I had ordered all Israeli agents home, whether they were compromised or not.

Although I could tell that it irritated him, Sherlock answered my hourly check-ins with him. He would text back with a scowl at one of the cameras but he would text back. My favorite was his text at ten o'clock.

I had never wished for an older sister, Ariadne, and now I know why.

-SH

My smile at that text had Mycroft asking if Sherlock had found Miss Welton. "Not yet, sir. He simply sent an amusing insult. I apologize for getting your hopes up."

Mycroft eyed me shrewdly and then smirked. "At times Sherlock's insults carry a degree of truth."

The smile on my only grew at that comment. I smiled for the rest of the morning until just after noon all of the cameras on the street around Sherlock lost power at the same time.

So that was how I became an honorary Holmes.

Why are you yelling? I have told the story, just like you wanted. What happened? That part isn't important is it? You should know already that Sherlock survived and married John. My own wife is reading over my shoulder, or was, until she started laughing to hard to see. I told you she isn't exactly nice.

You really want to know what happened to Sherlock that day? Are you sure? I mean totally positive that you just have to know whether Maggie Welton captured him? Very well, since you insist I shall finish this incident. Even though it has nothing to do with how I became a Holmes.

Where was I? Am I irritating you yet? Sherlock claims that I have the rare ability to irritate anyone with merely a look. I don't think he's telling the truth but who knows with him. The story? Oh, right!

After the cameras cut out on that street I frantically called up the ones from surrounding streets while calling to Mycroft in the other room. Within moments I saw a black car, how very clichéd, darting across the street from the alley leading to the one where Sherlock had been. I tagged it and followed it through the cameras. Mycroft appeared behind me and began cursing in five new languages.

The car eventually entered one of the districts where there were no cameras. Believe it or not there are several of those. I consulted a map of the area while Mycroft phoned Bryce to bring the car around.

In that particular section there was only an abandoned warehouse, again clichéd. I switched the feed to my mobile and followed Mycroft out the door and towards the lifts.

"We have exactly one hour and thirty-seven minutes to retrieve Sherlock, Ariadne." Mycroft's voice broke the silence of the lift as we rode it down to the ground floor. "After that, there will be a one man war in London."

"Sir?" I could not keep the astonishment and curiosity from my voice.

"I did not expect Sherlock to make such quick progress and called John in from his training. He is scheduled to return at two o'clock. Should he return to London and find Sherlock missing…" he paused and gave a small shudder. "Well, we shan't speak of the consequences of that and we will simply ensure that Sherlock is safe and whole before two."

"That would be our wisest course of action," I agreed with a hard swallow. I had learned enough of Sherlock and John in the past week to be able to envision the utter fury that the small package that was John Watson could hold.

Bryce drove us to within a block of the warehouse and waited while Mycroft and I stealthily made our way to one of the side entrances. Yes, we could have been wrong and they may have been keeping Sherlock in one of the other buildings but the huge guard on the door was a big clue that they were in fact keeping Sherlock in the warehouse. I was more than a little disappointed. An abandoned warehouse that suddenly has activity inside it is a glaring sign that something nefarious is occurring.

The guard was easily and quickly subdued. Mycroft was lethal with that umbrella and I wasn't anything to laugh at myself. Truthfully, the guard relied too much on his size and intimidation factor.

I followed Mycroft into the dark depths of the warehouse's interior and to the large loading area. We could hear grunts and muffled curses as we crept along the shadows.

"What kept you, brother?" Sherlock's voice greeted us. He was standing, quite unharmed, in the middle of the space facing us. "I expected you five minutes ago."

"I am not stupid, Mr. Holmes, and I will not fall for that trick," the woman with her back to us told him. "I will not spin around to see whom you are speaking too and leave myself open for you to overpower me."

Sherlock grinned in a predatory way. "I don't care if you believe me or not, Miss Welton. Your belief won't stop my brother's assistant from bashing your head in."

The woman, Miss Maggie Welton, gave a trilling laugh that grated on my nerves as I snuck up behind her. "Come now, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, Freddie has told me exactly how acrimonious your relationship with your brother is. He isn't going to come save you when he has more important people to protect."

Sherlock's grin only grew in both size and viciousness. I shuddered involuntarily at the thought of having that grin aimed at me. That irritated me and my pinch to the nerves in her neck may have been a bit more forceful than I'd intended. "See, Miss Welton, I did warn you though I expected something a bit more violent."

"Her headache when she wakes will be much worse, though," I argued. "The Vulcan Neck Pinch is a tried and true method of subduing an enemy."

Sherlock's eyes slid from the woman crumpled at my feet to lock with mine. "The what?" He asked.

I raised an eyebrow at him. "You don't know of the Vulcan Neck Pinch?" I asked astonished.

"My brother's knowledge of pop culture references is sadly lacking. John has tried to correct this oversight but Sherlock merely deletes any information he finds trite or untrue or boring or unnecessary." Mycroft told me.

I shrugged and opened my phone as it buzzed. "Bryce is waiting outside, sir, and he warns us that there is a hurricane headed our way."

The words were barely out of my mouth before Sherlock was sprinting towards the shadows to the front of the room. "Mycroft," a voice growled. "You promised you'd keep him safe."

Sherlock gathered John into his arms for a deep kiss and then rested his forehead against the older man's. "He did hire Ariadne," he commented. "That counts."

"So it does," John nodded agreeably and sent me a small grateful smile.

And that is now the end of my story. Truly, this time. I hope you enjoyed it though it wasn't nearly as exciting or as adventurous as some of their cases. Now, it is quite late and my Irina is calling for me to join her in the bedroom so I will bid you adieu.