A/N: All the details about the embassy and its employees are totally made up. I hope no one take offense.

This is my first real action scene. I don't know how realistic it is, but I do hope you enjoy it. Let me know how it was!

Chapter Eleven

Mycroft and Sherlock were introduced to the Italian team, whose embassy was the one under attack. The hostage situation was kept under wraps, and only those with clearance were informed. The ambassador, Roberto Antonelli, was present, along with a select team of Italian agents, who had quickly been flown over. There were four British government officials present besides Mycroft. Sherlock was glad to see Lady Smallwood was one of them. She was definitely less idiotic and more practical than some of the other bureaucrats. She acknowledged him with a small nod which he returned.

Mycroft was introduced by his code name, Antarctica. His position in the government was a sensitive one, and he was known by name only in the upper echelons of the Italian government. The Italian agents were considered trustworthy, but the British Government preferred to avoid unnecessary risks. John arrived shortly afterwards, and was introduced as Sherlock's partner, part of the 'consulting team.' Major Di Maggio, who was leading the team of Special Forces, was unimpressed by their credentials.

"I do not understand, sir, why the you have brought in the outside consulting team," the Major argued. "I have heard about the work of Mr. Holmes, and I do think he is an excellent detective. However, this is a hostage situation, not a criminal case to be solved. We need men with the right training to infiltrate the embassy and take out the terrorists. With all due respect, they do not have the right background for this."

Mycroft resisted the urge to bang his head against the wall. He put on his most intimidating demeanor, a cold smile with a hint of menace. "Of course, Major, we will involve the necessary forces at the right time. We have SAS teams on standby. What we need first is the planning, and that requires the gathering of information. The more information we have, the better we can prepare for every eventuality. Sharpshooters are of no help if they don't no whom to shoot, correct?" He asked, the last question in a voice dripping with condescension, and watched with pleasure as the Major shrank back, chastened. In an undertone, so only his brother and the doctor could hear, he muttered, "God save us all from the goldfish." Sherlock and John were for once in full agreement with him.

"Now, I do believe that our consulting team has some information about the terror group responsible for the attack," he continued. "They call themselves Tahir's Warriors, and are based in Karachi. They are believed to have ties to the ousted Taliban government. Their leader, by the name of Tahir Dawar, is imprisoned in Italy on charges of terrorism and conspiracy. His second-in-command is believed to be leading this attack, with the goal of getting the leader freed.

"I believe Mr. Holmes here has a contact inside the organization," Mycroft stared at his brother meaningfully. Sherlock's eyes widened minutely, before he donned an impassive expression. His brother looked back at him smugly. Damn! Sherlock thought. He knows! He knows Irene's alive, and that I saved her from that that terror group! When did he find out about that! He must have known a while now, and saved it for the perfect time to blackmail me!

"I'm afraid my contact is currently no longer in the field," he responded nonchalantly. "However, he might have valuable information about the organization and the members involved. Have you figured out how many operatives are currently inside the embassy, and do you have any identities?

In response, Mycroft asked for the footage of the security cameras monitoring the embassy to be put on screen. He also requested a list of employees working in the building, accompanied by a complete file on each employee. There was also Since there were no reports of tampering with the security system, the agents assumed that the terrorists had entered through the front door, under the very noses of the security guards. They must have had inside help to pull it off.

The attack happened on a Sunday, when the embassy was officially closed. Going through the records of the employees, Antonelli quickly zeroed in on a minor clerk who didn't usually come in on Sundays, but was in the building to replace a colleague who regularly assisted one of the hostages, a high ranking diplomat by the name of Francesca Beneventi. He had successfully 'escaped', along with a number of other employees who happened to be present. He the most likely suspect, as the terrorists had most likely targeted Beneventi due to her value, and had known exactly where to find her. Further research showed that the clerk had admitted five individuals who claimed to have an emergency with a sick relative. They dispatched several agents to look for the clerk.

The images of the individuals who had arrived were enlarged and clarified by the tech team, and then and John took the pictures and went to pay a visit to a certain gas station. Sherlock rolled down the window, and greeted the dark-skinned attendant with a friendly, "Hello, would you happen to have some oil for my fish and chips?" He then drove to a street on the outskirts of London, and let himself in with a key to what seemed to be a deserted apartment. After half an hour, the attendant from the gas station showed up.

"What happened now, my friend?" he inquired anxiously. "Say hello, to Ahmed, John," Sherlock instructed. "I helped him get into England and start a new life in exchange for some services he provided."

After reassuring Ahmed that John could be trusted, Sherlock gave John a summary of the man's background. He had been recruited into Tahir's organization as a teenager, and had become disillusioned with the violence he had witnessed and the abuse he had experienced from his handlers. When Sherlock had contacted him several years ago, he had helped him infiltrate the organization and save Irene Adler. Sherlock had then gotten him into England under an assumed identity.

The detective showed him the photographs he had taken along. Ahmed recognized the first two, and shook his head at the next two. At the last one, he began cursing in Pashto. "Is there a problem?" John asked mildly-in Pashto. "Tour of duty in Afghanistan," he explained, in response to Ahmed's surprise. "I picked up a lot."

"That one's dangerous," Abdul pointed to the last picture. "Fazal Mahsud, second-in-command, acting commander since Tahir was captured. He's a sly fox, and one of the cruelest men I've ever met. You be careful with him, you hear me?"

The duo proceeded to interrogate their informant, milking him for details about the organization in general and the three men in particular. When they finished, they headed back to headquarters. It turned out that the other members of the team hadn't been sitting on there hands, and had procured information from other sources. Now the fun began, with all the information being put together like a puzzle and analyzed. Mycroft and Sherlock began deducing at a dizzying speed, leaving the others watching like spectators at a sports event. The competitive element was definitely there.

"His choice of weapon, when combined with his background in breeding horses, shows a capacity for innovation, and perseverance-" Sherlock began his deductions about

"However, his left hand shows scarring that are consistent with hard labor-" Mycroft interrupted, and the deduction duel really got off the ground. The others only picked up bits and pieces.

"Substandard income, but higher-end shoes-"

"Suit well-cut, but several years old, means a cut in funding at the time of-"

"Couldn't rely on his family, as evidenced by his history of marijuana use, only at specific times, coinciding with-"

"Not from a blade, that scar under his eye is more consistent with a nail scratch-"

And on it went. John observed his best friend, delighted to see the fire in his eyes, which had been absent for some time. Mycroft seemed to be enjoying himself as well. Within twenty minutes, they had put together a complete profile on each suspect, complete with their strengths and weak spots that could be exploited. Specail attention was of course given to Fazal, who was thought to be the greatest obstacle.

"They seem to have a language of their own," Di Maggio remarked to John in bewilderment. "I couldn't keep up with that."

"Well, they have worked together before on cases," John remarked neutrally.

"You could have thought they're twins," Di Maggio continued. "But I suppose it's a good thing they aren't. The way they are competing, they would have killed each other."

"It's probably a good thing," John agreed mildly, while internally hyperventilating at the very thought.

"Do you have anything to add, John?" Sherlock turned to him.

"Not much. I can just provide my perspective from my time in Afghanistan. I think that the younger recruits are more idealistic, and will blindly follow orders. However, if they lose their leader, they will quickly abandon ship. The more experienced members are less willing to sacrifice themselves on a whim, but may try to step in if the leader falls."

"Thank you, Dr. Watson. We will keep that in mind while planning the raid," Mycroft said.

There was much back and forth between all members of the rescue team, but finally, a plan was hatched.

"Lets get going," Sherlock urged. "The game is on."

Francesca Beneventi was sitting uncomfortably on the floor and leaning against the wall, a black hijab covering her hair and three assault rifles pointing in her general direction. The three other hostages were leaning against the same wall. It was ten hours since she had been taken hostage, and she was hungry, tired, and afraid. A fourth man entered and bid her to rise. "You are to receive treatment for your blood pressure, and will return afterwards, unless your government finally concedes to our demands. We are not heartless, you see. We let you get treatment. Your government is keeping you here by your stubbornness."

Francesca lowered her head seemingly in submission, but in reality to hide the expression on her face. She was puzzled by the necessity of medical treatment for a condition that was pretty minor and well in control. Being an intelligent woman and a skilled diplomat, she figured that someone had highly exaggerated her condition in order to get her out. However, the terrorist had mentioned her returning. Whatever game was being played, she would play along and hope that her would-be rescuers knew what they were doing.

As she was being led out of the building, she saw the fifth hostage taker leading an unfamiliar man in. The man was short and had dirty blond hair. The terrorist turned to her and said, "Remember, Mrs. Beneventi, you have two hours. If you aren't back by then, we shoot this man." So they had insurance to force her to come back. No wonder, since she was the most valuable hostage they had. She sincerely hoped the man would survive his ordeal. She didn't want his death on her conscience.

Dr. John Watson was thoroughly frisked and then pushed down on the floor next to the other hostages. He protested that he was a doctor and had been promised a chance to examine the other hostages to make sure they were alright. After checking in with Fazal, the hostage taker gave him permission to approach the other hostages, under close scrutiny.

John addressed the terrorist who had brought him in, speaking in Pashto. The man originated from Afghanistan, and grew up in a village on the outskirts of Kabul. "I was in Afghanistan several years ago. I visited Kabul. Bit of a mess when I was there. I've heard it used to be a great city."

"What were you doing there?" the man asked suspiciously.

"I'm a doctor. I volunteered to help people in need," John answered, sticking to the truth while avoiding mention of his military background. "Your army destroyed our beautiful country," he growled, and then launched into an enthusiastic description of the village he had grown up in, and the city of Kabul. The two other hostage takers silently watched their exchange. John began a cursory examination on the first hostage, while keeping up the conversation. While the terrorist continued his rant, he asked the man how he felt, and if he had any medical conditions. Keeping his voice low and reassuring, he told the man, "Code word cannoli, lie flat on the floor." He went on to examine the other hostages, and slipped in the same sentences in his conversation, while keeping half an ear on the terrorist's ramblings, and responding when necessary.

Meanwhile, Mycroft was engaging Fazal in a battle of wits and will. His purpose was to keep the commander engaged and distracted from his hostages. He had needed to use all his diplomatic skills, plus a healthy dash of guile, to have the man not only agree to his conditions, but to believe that he had come up with the ideas himself. Mycroft had stressed Beneventi's delicate health, and insisted she be released. He had manipulated the conversation so that the terrorist had demanded she return within a specific time frame, and also required that an additional hostage be brought.

When Mycroft had expressed concern over the other's health, citing some true but highly exaggerated issues, Fazal became angry and yelled at him to bring a doctor in if he wanted. Mycroft 'gave in' and even offered to have them keep the doctor as hostage. He then engaged him in an intricate discussion of the details of their demands, and the logistics required to fulfill it. When he sensed the man getting edgy, he began a conversation about the terrorist's ideals and goals. The man was only too willing to present his point of view. Mycroft had to admit that the man had a way with words, and made good use of rhetoric. He also loved to play to an audience, and Mycroft's job was to be one for him. His head was starting to ache, his steely nerves were getting frayed, and he began wishing he had just gone for legwork. Almost.

Sherlock's job was to take care of the next part of the plan. He needed to meet and coach the woman who would be returned to the embassy. The Italian and British forces were in position, and the press was kept far, far, away. The mistakes of the Munich Massacre would not be repeated over here.

Beneventi was being returned to the embassy, wearing her hijab. Mycroft insisted at that moment that Fazal call his second-in-command to confirm the details of their negotiations. He complied, calling the man into the office, leaving the hostages with two gun-toting terrorists in a side room. The third terrorist brought Mrs. Beneventi into the room and shoved her to the floor. She whimpered, and beckoned to her captor. "Please, sir, I need help..." The terrorist approached her and bent over to hear what she was saying. In that instant, she screamed, "Cannoli!" and kicked out to trip the man. At the same moment, John Watson did a complicated karate move involving his elbows and his heels, and had his surprised captor in a heap on the floor while the shout was still reverberating. The remaining terrorist fired a shot in the hostages' direction, which ended up hitting the wall, as the hostages were face down on the floor.

and Beneventi grabbed their captors' assault rifles and pointed it at the door. After a few moments, they heard the sounds of the Special Forces moving in, and gunshots being fired in the nearby office. The door was broken open, and they stood down when they saw their rescuers had arrived. The rest of the hostages got up and stared in wonder at Beneventi, who turned out to not be Beneventi at all. She had been replaced by a trained operative, and the hijab had provided the perfect cover. The real diplomat was being treated in the hospital for shock.

"Job well done, Doctor Watson," a smooth voice declared. John turned to see Mycroft approaching him. "You were awesome!" another voice announced, and he felt someone clap him on the shoulder. "It was great fun and all," he addressed the Holmes' brothers. "But I really do need to pick up Rosie, or Mrs. Hudson will finish what the terrorists didn't manage to."