Author's Note:

Glad you guys are liking the story so far! Thanks again for all the reviews!

"Of course I do. Just give me a damn minute." Sherlock had been swearing a lot lately since John had gone missing he realized. He recognized it as a form of relieving stress. "He says he is cleaning house and not to worry. Apparently Blair is hot on the tails on John's kidnappers and is driving them back toward Bastion. Which would explain why they are gone from Konjak already. Smart move, really. Pincer attack and hopefully the element of surprise when Shevchenko's and his team show up." Never in his life had the consulting detective ever been so thankful to have The Colonel as his father. Maybe this could be resolved quickly.

"They wouldn't be stupid enough to go straight back to Bastion, would they?" Mycroft asked, more to himself than to Sherlock. Even he knew that was a bad idea. Then again, then men they were dealing with were stupid enough to think they could handle Siger Holmes. He glanced at his phone as a text came in, looking up at Sherlock with a small laugh. "Blair." He read through the text and narrowed his eyes. "Says that's the plan. Right back to Bastion. I don't think they will fall for it." He read the rest of the text, paled considerably, and closed it.

"We may be dealing with Moriarty's web of criminals but these men are nowhere near as brilliant as he was. Also, as far as Shevchenko is concerned his people took over Bastion. He sorely underestimated father. With the Old Man there, he might think he can get him to talk if John doesn't." Sherlock shrugged a bit. It was the only thing going for them right now. However, if the plan failed like Mycroft thought it would then they needed something else to fall back on. He began going through the photos that had been sent.

"I guess. So..." Mycroft paused. It was clear he was trying to piece everything together before speaking. "We are far from done. Ten soldiers including John. Three dead. We've still got six left before him. Blair can push all he wants but they are not just going to quit." He spoke slowly, calculated, and managed to keep himself calm. "Sherlock, we can stay positive but let's not get ahead of ourselves."

"Maybe. Eventually Blair will just catch up, if they opt not to seek refuge in the base. Either way, it will end at some point. For better or worse." Sherlock frowned at the thought, but continued staring at the pictures. He was hoping to find something left behind from John. He wanted to believe that despite everything that was happening to the army doctor, he would be clever enough to manage to leave some sort of message somewhere. If it existed, the consulting detective wasn't finding it.

Mycroft glanced at his phone as it went off again, frowning. "Blair sent a picture," he muttered. The silver Rig was instantly recognizable but the large amount of blood in the picture made him cringe. "Says he found John's ring with a note inside." He continued to read it and glanced up at Sherlock sharply. "Does 'cheesecake' mean anything to you?"

With effort, Sherlock managed to resist the urge to snatch the phone out of his older brother's hands. He couldn't help but let a faint smirk etch his lips. "Cheesecake? I better know what it means. It's our safety word, when we try new and exciting things during sex. I could go into detail for you." The smirk marginally grew as he finally glanced up from the computer screen to look at Mycroft.

Oh. Leave it to John to be some git even when he was being held hostage. "I'm sure I can live without that information, actually." Mycroft smiled tightly. "Blair says they still haven't officially tracked them down but the blood is John's. It was at least an hour and a half old."

"Well, I'll leave the bugs in for you next time so you can get an earful." Sherlock remarked, looking back down at the photos. "They aren't that far behind then. If they press hard enough, they could catch up with them by the end of the night. Dragging around several prisoners, one badly injured will slow them down, which should give the edge to Blair. Also, by virtue of being Joseph Blair gives him an edge. The only man I've ever seen to beat dad in hand-to-hand combat." Usually putting so much faith in other people was not something he did, but he had to now. He wasn't there to do things, he was stuck at home on the sidelines trying to find out as much information as he could without actually knowing anything going on.

"They've got a car." Mycroft jumped in most instantly, pointing at the edge of pictures to make sure Sherlock saw the marks in the sand. "Isn't that hard when they know these men aren't afraid to kill them. The only one who I think would be brave enough can only leave you your sexual safety word because he got shot in the shoulder." He let himself relax against the couch and sighed, closing his eyes. The sun was slowly starting to set. Between all the videos and letting Sherlock interrogate that blasted doctor, they had lost an entire day. "Three hours or so until night there. Let's hope Blair is as good as Dad thinks he is."

"Well, obviously they have a vehicle. But they are stopping every now and then to make videos and they will have to stop more frequently to make sure the bandages on John's shoulder get changed and that the wound doesn't get infected. Not a very smart move on their part. They were probably upset and panicking with Blair closing in. Like I said, not exactly criminal masterminds we are dealing with. Organized and well-funded? Sure. That only gets you so far though." Sherlock gave a small shrug. The thing he didn't say was that if the people who had John were smart they would ditch John immediately either dead or dying, depending on whether or not they wanted to waste another bullet.

While his brother had a point, Mycroft was fairly sure that John's shoulder was not the top priority for the group. "Sherlock, I doubt they're changing his bandages. Why keep him healthy if they plan on killing him anyway?" It was a harsh truth but he was thinking logically. At this rate they had about half an hour left until another video came in.

Mrs. Hudson came into the living room, Amy in her arms. "Fed, bathed, and in new clothes," she commented with a smile. "You hold her. She is not as active. I think she wore herself out." The bundle didn't move much, Amy's gaze locked on Mrs. Hudson as she absently sucked on her tiny hand. Mrs. Hudson handed Amy off to Sherlock.

"If they want him to live long enough to tell them where the plans on, then it should be. Given the angle and trajectory of the bullet to John's shoulder before the video cut out, the bullet probably nicked the thoracoacromial artery. It isn't one of the four major arteries, so the danger isn't immediate but they called a doctor in for a reason Mycroft. It won't do to have him unconscious most of the time from blood loss, would it? Honestly, I'll be surprised if another video comes in when it is supposed to. They certainly have made a mess for themselves, haven't they?" Sherlock would have smirked smugly, except it was John at risk for their reckless act. His gaze trailed to Mrs. Hudson and he was about to argue he didn't have time to take care of little Sandi right now, but Amy was already in his arms before he could form any words. He stared at the infant in his arms for a moment and then looked up to his older brother. "Do you think…John cheated on me again while he was in Afghanistan?" It had been bugging him since the words had been uttered to him.

"Unless they know Dad is coming. Why keep John? Who is the secondary holder if the information if the original source is on his way?" Mycroft shot back uncomfortably. While he was worried for John, mostly for Sherlock's sake, the thought of what could happen to their father twisted his gut. A small nod of agreement shook him from his thoughts. "At least we can agree on that. They keep digging themselves into a deeper hole. With three bodies down and one seriously injured what else can they do but constantly move? Maybe it will keep the rest of John's company alive." He smiled tightly, letting his eyes settle on Amy, before he heard Sherlock speak. Why did he want to lie to Sherlock? He needed to. It wasn't an option. Mycroft wanted to tell Sherlock that he probably did, that John had constantly fallen back to sex in stressful situations. Afghanistan was probably a giant playground for the Army doctor. "I don't know, Sherlock," he replied softly, shrugging. "You'll have to ask him when we get him back. Why are you suddenly thinking about it?"

Sherlock was quiet a long while, staring at the wall. He couldn't bring himself to look at the infant in his arms. He needed to stop thinking like this. It was obviously what that doctor had intended. It had worked. It was gnawing away at him, cutting him like a knife. His fiancé had promised him he wouldn't. He had to believe in that. He had to believe in John. However, he was having difficulty snubbing out the doubt.

Mycroft kept his eyes locked on Sherlock for a long moment, moving to sit beside him. "Sherlock, I'm sure he didn't. He promised you. If John Watson is anything, it's loyal. He's got you. He wants to marry you. That's the last thing he would do." He glanced at Amy who had already fallen asleep in the comfort of Sherlock's arms.

Shevchenko had moved the group swiftly, knowing that bastard who worked for Colonel Holmes was hot on their trail. "Ridiculous," he turned to look at John, pale and struggling to prop himself up against the back of his seat. "You got your little lover's Daddy involved, did you? Think that would help?" He turned the video camera on with a smirk.

For a moment Mycroft didn't want to move the the sound of a new e-mail pulled him from his comforting position to the laptop on the ground. "New video," he whispered with a sigh. It seemed they didn't want to let up. He hit play.

"So, Sherlock Holmes, you think sending Daddy out here will help your little Captain, do you?" Shevchenko was no longer wearing his mask, blue eyes locked on the camera with a smirk on his thin lips. "And poor John here just keeps moaning in pain." He slipped a needle from the pocket of his jacket and John's eyes weakly moved toward it before he seemed to realize what was going on.

"No, please," John was pleading, near tears, and trying desperately to move away from Shevchenko with one good arm. Blood poured from the poorly wrapped shoulder, spilling across his bare chest and on to the seat.

"Afghanistan is immensely popular for their opium output. Makes heroin. Now, I'm sure you've got quite the build up for the stuff but John Watson? I wonder how he would react?" Shevchenko moved and managed to pin John down, stabbing the needle into his arm with a small laugh. The army doctor went limp almost immediately, his eyes closing as his head fell back. His chest slowed significantly and Shevchenko smirked as the video ended.

Mycroft looked for his phone. "We need to get a hold of Dad. Now!" He looked up at Sherlock and took a deep breath. "Think we can still call him?"

"Loyal? Right. That's why I have his little girl in my arms," Sherlock replied bitterly. Even though he didn't watch the video, it was obvious what had happened based on the audio that went with it. He was still staring at the wall. "If he still has his phone or if it is even on." He was quiet for a few moments after that. "The heroine will probably slow down his heart rate and breathing, so at least his heart won't be working as hard. Won't pump as much blood, so the blood loss and rate will go down. Not really comforting when you take into account the other side effects. Vomiting, where he could choke on it and die. Depending on how pure it is he could have violent reaction and have heart failure and die." His gaze remained resolutely on the wall. "At this point, we should just assume John is going to die and work on making sure Shevchenko doesn't get what he wants." It was easier to be cold and detached when all he could think about was that the army doctor had cheated on him.

While Mycroft had told Sherlock to keep himself as detached from the case as possible it was obvious that the doctor had gotten to him. "You can care a little more," he whispered, struggling to get the words out. It was suddenly serious. John had an obviously serious wound to his right shoulder and now was injected with drugs. Drugs that he knew the side effects of given his experience with Sherlock. "You are letting that doctor get to you. You think you are detached but you aren't. You are upset and not caring which, honestly, is worse." He stood and glanced at his brother. "So John made a mistake. All humans do. When do you think you will let him know that you actually rescued Irene? Hmm? Ever going to talk to him about how you really feel about that little girl in your arms? Or are you going to continue to lie to him? Step up, Sherlock, and act like an adult." He pulled his phone from his pocket and quickly dialed their father's mobile number, praying he would pick up.

"I'll probably never tell him about Irene. The fewer people who know she is still alive, the better. 'Step up and act like an adult?' I have done everything for John and this little girl! Changed everything." Sherlock finally tore his gaze away from the wall and fixed his brother with an icy glare.

The reply on the other end was less than pleasant and he was already on edge. "They are moving. No longer in Konjak. John's drugged," Mycroft snapped, clearly tense. "I have no idea if they are heading to Bastion." He ended the call and glanced at his younger brother right as Amy let out a soft cry. "Yes, Sherlock, you have and that is the most admirable thing I have ever seen you do. So stop letting that man's words get to you and care a little bit."

A faint smirk crossed his lips. Sherlock had never seen his older brother snap at their father like that before. He looked down to little Sandi when she started crying. "I do care. That's the problem." He began rocking Amy back and forth in an effort to calm the child in his arms. "No need to cry. The adults are done arguing." He glanced up to his brother. "Right Uncle Mycroft?"

Mycroft opened his mouth once before snapping it shut, grimacing, and falling into John's chair with a hand resting on his forehead. "Fine," he muttered.

"See little Sandi? Everything is fine. Let's get you Dad's dog tags." Sherlock said as he walked into his bedroom, removed the chain from the mobile and offered them to Amy.

Amy just stared at Sherlock, blank and exhausted her eyes red. One hand moved lazily to grip at the chain of the dog tags and she yawned.

"New e-mail from Blair," Mycroft muttered as he stood from John's chair. "Shevchenko answered a call from Dad. He's telling Blair to keep chasing them to Bastion." He moved into Sherlock's bedroom, clearly a bit calmer than he had been a few minutes ago.

"Go back to sleep little Sandi," Sherlock said to the infant in his arms. He sat down on the bed, to get off his feet but continued to rock Amy gently. He lifted his gaze to his brother. "Dad in a showdown with some idiot Russian. I almost feel sorry for the other guy."

Mycroft laughed softly and gently sat beside Sherlock, studying Amy. "Let's hope he doesn't have John with him."

Sherlock couldn't help but cringe at Mycroft's words. "Do you think Dad would kill John himself to keep the secrets safe?"

Mycroft swallowed hard in fear of answering. Their Dad was uncontrollable at best. "I... don't know," he whispered as he glanced down at Amy. "I hope not."

Sherlock fell quiet, as he stared down at little Sandi in his arms. It was frustrating to think that John's life rested in the hands of his father.

"Bastion is on fire," Mycroft whispered in shock as he turned to look at Sherlock. "It's... completely destroyed." What did he say? Dad had obviously done something. Now it was waiting to see how everything turned out.

"That sounds like Dad. Any news on...survivors? If any?" Sherlock was worried now. He wouldn't put it past his father to sacrifice everyone to keep the weapons plan a secret. He stared down at little Sandi still sleeping in his arms. John had to come home. He couldn't raise Amy alone.

Sherlock nodded slightly. Great. All they could do was sit and wait. He got up from the bed and placed little Sandi down into the crib gently. "I'm going outside to smoke." He left the room, found a pack of 'hidden' cigarettes, and then went outside. He lit up, resting the back of his head on the door. He inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly.

Mycroft watched his brother with a small nod. At a time like this even he thought he might want a smoke. He was sure they had just lost their Father. How was Mummy going to handle that? And if John was gone... he swallowed hard and glanced at the sleeping infant in the crib. John wouldn't just give up like that.

"Sher...lock?" Lestrade had run out to get some food for he and Mycroft, standing back a bit when he noticed the consulting detective against the door. "You alright?"

Sherlock was lost in thought and it took a moment for Lestrade's voice to register. "Just waiting to hear news." He shrugged a bit, finished the cigarette, flicked the butt to the ground despite the Detective Inspector standing there. He opened the door to the flat, holding it open for the other man and then trailed after him up the stairs.

Lestrade didn't question Sherlock after that, going up the stairs and stopping in the living room. It took him a moment before he realized Mycroft was in Sherlock's room. The other man was clearly struggling and Lestrade dropped to his knees in front of him, pulling him into a tight hug. "Shhh, Mycroft, it's alright." he placed a soft kiss on his lover's temple. He turned slightly to look at Sherlock, raising a brow in questioning.

Sherlock frowned and shrugged a bit. "Probably worried about Dad." He didn't feel like watching Lestrade comforting Mycroft, so he went to the couch and laid down with his back to everything. Partly to be off his feet but mostly because he just wanted to be alone.