I don't sleep much that night, preparing the questioning of Benjamin Jesterton that Janine has organized. Go through pictures and videos of that former business partner of hers. Thirty-two, looking twenty-one. Not only because of his tedious youthful hair style. Wears modern horn-rims and expensive tattered jeans. Has been in love with her. Unrequited. Unnoticed. (I try not to sympathise with him.)

Well, meeting him makes not sympathising easier. Turns out he is a real arsehole. And lies almost every time he opens his mouth.

He welcomes me and Janine (who has agreed to serve as a intermediary) with an easy-going "Nice to meet you!" (Lie. He hates to see us.) and lets us into his (expressively understated) home. Tells Janine that she is as beautiful as always. (Lie. Thinks that her bottom has got fatter.) Shakes my hand and makes it clear that he is sure that I will be able to prove his innocence. (Lie. Scared I might find out something about him. What? Need to investigate further.)

When we talk about the "Miss me" video he gets nervous (slight trembling of his hands, quickly hidden frown, holds eye contact a bit too long). (Is hiding something big, and nervous about it.) When I mention his past involvement with Janine, he avoids answering my questions with evasive comments (and thinks that I do not notice).

After eight minutes I am sure that he has something to do with broadcasting the video. Problem: Mycroft had his minions check Jesterton's online traffic as well as his mobile and that of everybody probably involved with him. There was no hint he might be involved at all.

A riddle. One of the annoying ones. Janine and Jesterton continue to prattle while I consider our next steps. How can his reactions be so at odds with Mycroft's research? Could it be that one of Mycroft's minions has been bribed? Unlikely. Could Mycroft have initiated the broadcast and used Jesterton as a scapegoat? No, my brother's surprise about the video had been real. Could Jesterton be using channels that Mycroft is completely unaware of?

Disturbing, but possible.

Lacking John to talk to, I use Janine instead. Once we are out of Jesterton's home, I tell her what I think. The idea of channels Mycroft does not know of does not surprise her at all. She pats my arm (again!) and smiles, "Sherlock, I think it is time for you to meet Yasmin." When I fail to react, she explains (with the same voice teachers use with nice but slow pupils), "Yasmin is the one person to go to if you want to avoid Mycroft Holmes' attention. She can provide you with anything without your brother noticing. Contacts, identities, weapons, … And she is a real darling."

"Then why should she be willing to talk to me?", I wonder.

Janine laughs. "Oh, she owes me a favour. Besides," she goes on, dragging me towards the cab she has stopped, "she reads John's blog regularly. Real crush."

Well, the idea of people having a crush on me is nothing new, though incomprehensible to me. And if this crush is big enough to make that woman provide me with information she would otherwise keep secret, who am I to reject that?

"You will like her," Janine says, and it turns out that she is absolutely right.

When we enter "Yasmin's Laundrette" (nice little business to cover her illegal activities), Yasmin is already expecting us, thanks to Janine having texted her. She is beaming, radiating benevolence and cordiality. It takes only one glance to deduce that she was not Yasmin when she was born, but rather Yasin or Yusuf.

"Oh, look," she beams, "the infamous Sherlock Holmes, standing in my laundrette!" She gives me a hug that leaves little doubt about the artificial nature of her breasts and the genuine nature of the stubbles. when she stands back, she's so elated that her ponytail and her dress continue swinging for a while. Her heavy perfume remains with me.

She greets Janine just as cordially and gives me the warmest smile I have ever received (besides when John smiles at me) and starts chatting about the Miss Me video and what a terrible person Jesterton is. Tells me that unfortunately she does not know anything about it at all (genuine regret). When I cannot help but sigh at that, she hugs me again. "I am really sorry, Sherlock," she tells me, and means it. Probably due to the crush on me Janine mentioned before.

Before I can object, there is peppermint tea standing on the counter in front of us and some sweets, and we are talking about anything and everything. Well, mostly it's Yasmin and Janine talking, and I am listening. Intensely. Because on the one hand Yasmin is a fascinating person.

And on the other hand she is deliberately avoiding a certain topic. I am intrigued. What can it be? It becomes even more interesting when I deduce that Janine is always trying to make her talk about it. And I still don't know what it is all about. Feels a bit like watching a fencing match without seeing the rapier.

Finally it happens. They tattle about a criminal who managed to disappear from Mycroft's radar after breaking into the Bank of Scotland only to get caught at commiting fiscal fraud in Germany.

"I really shouldn't mention him," Yasmin smiles at me, "with your brother still angry at losing track of him."

"Oh," I assure her, "I am perfectly fine with the idea of people outwitting my brother. Especially when he is outsmarted by a lovely lady like you."

She beams at the compliment. "Aw, you are really as charming as the good doctor always states on his blog."

Of course she likes the blog. Everybody does. Feel a surge of pride at that thought. Strange that I have been jealous of John's success once.

"Check it for updates every day," she explains. "But there is very little to read, lately." She hesitates. Wants to say something but does not. Instead she asks, "Tell me, how is he in real life?" Subconsciously licks her lips. Touches her hair. She is …

Oh.

She doesn't have a crush on me.

Out of the corner of my eyes I see Janine suppressing a giggle. Of course she knew that Yasmin has a crush on John and not on me. And of course she knew I would naturally assume that she had a crush on me. I do my best not to blush with embarrassment.

"He's … " I start and have to stop again instantly. How can you find the words to describe someone like John? Impossible. "He's warm and loyal and honest," I go on then, my words a shallow effigy of the man I love, "a brilliant marksman and the most patient man on earth."

Something in Yasmin's expression changes (and also in Janine's, but in a different way. Need to watch it again later to analyse). "Oh," Yasmin breathes, "oh poor dear, you're in love with him."

Again, I don't know what to say. Somehow I must have missed the fact that today it the international "Embarrass Sherlock Holmes" day.

Yasmin does not seem to realize my abashment. Instead she goes on, "And he is stuck with this mean bitch, instead of being free for you." She also misses the meaningful look Janine gives me over the rim of her tea cup. "Oh, dear, you would make such a lovely couple. It's really a shame that he married that cunt. Especially now that she's ..."

She stops in mid-sentence and bites her lips. Now that is the topic the two were dancing around earlier. "Now that Mary is what?" I ask, because there must be something bigger going on than the pregnancy.

Janine nods encouragingly, "Now that Mary is what, Yasmin?"

There is an awkward silence for a while. Then she disappears into the back of her laundrette and returns with an envelope. Still hesitates to hand it to me. "Mary is relentless, Sherlock dear," she says with gravity, "If I give you this, you need to promise me that you will protect me from her."

Our eyes lock, and I see serious fear in her eyes. "Promised," I agree. I know how it feels to fear Mary. I know it perfectly well.

Yasmin is still reluctant. Then she looks into my eyes for a long time. Finally, she hands me the envelope. "She asked me to do this for her, and you don't usually get the chance to say no to her." she explains. "Please, be gentle when you tell John. This will surely break his heart."

Inside the envelope there is a passport with Mary's picture on it, claiming her to be Christine Holden from Canada. And a return ticket for a flight from London to Vancouver, in a bit more than six weeks. (Clever, really. Returning to Canada is a lot more inconspicuous than entering Canada.)

And there is an additional reservation for a certain Denise Holden. Age: ten days.

For a second it feels like my world is tilting to the side. She is planning on taking GraceNotEmilia away from John. She is planning to leave him and take GraceNotEmilia with her. She is planning to take the baby and disappear for good. After all the hurt she has caused already, she is planning to take the baby away from John.

I can feel my cheeks burning with anger. Tell myself to stay calm. Tell myself that it will not happen anyway because John has asked Mycroft to have her arrested right after giving birth. Tell myself that Mary will not be able to take away the baby. Remind myself that I need to breathe.

"This will not happen," I tell Yasmin, and she nods.

"Take everything," she says, "and make sure that I'll be protected when Mary finds out. She wanted to pick up her papers one day before the plane leaves."

"Don't worry, she will be in prison by then," I do my best to reassure her.

On our way back to Baker Street, I tell myself that there is no reason to panic. Mary will not leave the country. John will not lose his daughter.

Janine gives me an unreadable glance. "Pretty much the same thing you were planning to do to her, isn't it? Taking the baby away from her?"

My clenched guts agree with her. My brain is trying to disagree. My heart is caught in between, and I feel misery mixing with anger and guilt. "You cannot compare that," I hiss, and when Janine continues to talk about it, I tune her out and think of how to break the news to John instead.

I need to be gentle, of course, Yasmin has been absolutely right about that. Better not to tell him at all, at least not until the baby is born and Mary locked up. Yes, that is the only reasonable course of action. Tell Mycroft, but not John or Mary, and then wait. Patiently. It won't be long now anyway.

When we get out of the cab I tell myself to calm down. When I open the door, I tell myself to conceal it until John and Mary have left. When I go upstairs I tell myself to be patient. When I open the door I tell myself to hide my anger. When I enter the living room I tell myself to calm down.

When my eyes fall on Mary (standing in the kitchen, her right arm loosely around John's hips, a completely innocent expression on her face, her left hand thoughtlessly placed on her immense belly), I tell myself to remain impassive.

When she says that she needs to go to the loo, I explode. "You are not going anywhere, Christine Holden!" Throw the envelope on the kitchen table. Watch her expression change from surprise to understanding to anger within a second. See her step away from John and instantly place myself between them, just to make sure.

"Where did you ..." Her eyes flicker from the envelope to me, then to Janine. "You took him to Yasmin," she hisses accusingly.

Janine doesn't even flinch. Out of the corner of my eye I see John and Mycroft checking the faked papers. Mycroft starts typing on his mobile instantly. John pales. "How long have you been planning this?", he asks, dangerously calm.

Mary takes another step away from us. Slowly approaching her coat that seems to be carelessly left on one of the kitchen chairs. "Oh, please, do you really think I don't know what is going on?" she laughs bitterly, taking one more step towards her coat. "Do you think I don't know that the two of you are fucking each other behind my back?" One more step. "Do you think I did not realize that you never really forgave me?" One more step. "That you are only waiting for me to have the child before taking her away from me and leaving me for good?"

Takes one more step towards her coat. "Do you really think I don't know that you have always loved him more than me?"

With surprising swiftness, Mycroft suddenly stands between her and that coat (and the weapon hidden inside). Grabs her by her arms (probably a bit harder than necessary), and lets his most annoying smug voice rain over her, "Amber Garrison, I am arresting you for illegal immigration, use of forged papers, burglary and attempted murder on at least one occasion, among other crimes. You will be arrested until the government has decided whether to punish you for your crimes against the crown, or to deliver you to one of the countries looking for you."

One of his minions takes over, handcuffs her. She's seething with anger, hatred emanating from her so thickly you can almost touch it. Mycroft remains unimpressed. "I have heard that there are some nasty charges against you in Liberia." He smiles, "Not the most eager advocate for human rights, that little country, but they really know how to handle prisoners."

Mary looks like she is ready to murder us all with a look right here. "You will not get away with that" she yells, "John, you will never be happy, I swear. You will all pay for this. I have got out of worse situations than this and ..."

There would surely have been a long list of threats, but she stops in mid-sentence, her face shifting to surprise, and then annoyance. Looks down on the ground where a little puddle of fluid is growing bigger and bigger with each passing second.

Her waters have broken, and quite spectacularly so. "We need to take them to hospital," John says, voice wavering with more emotions than I can decipher.

"Holloway Prison has the best maternity ward," Mycroft explains calmly, "and it is nearby. They are already expecting us."

All I can think of before paternal pre-birth panic sweeps my mind away is: I will surely love that baby girl to pieces, for her aptitude of dramatic entrances is as distinctive as mine.

###

Notes: I am sorry for the delay, but actually I am desperately looking for a native speaker who would be willing to beta this fic from here on. So, I shamelessly use this note to ask you all: Is there someone willing to jump in? I need help mainly with the finer details of grammar, like tenses and prepositions (evil little bastards). Input on the plot is not necessary, but always welcome.