Sherlock story
Forgotten Memories, Chapter 17
A disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to BBC along with the talented writers and amazing Martin Freeman and Benedict Cumberbatch. No money was made. The story however is my original thought, and comes out of my overactive imagination. Other characters introduced are also mine.
T rated but some future chapters may be M.
"Obstacles are great incentives."~Jules Michelet
Current Day
Forty-hours later, a lanky young man sighed as he glanced out the window. He thought to himself.
"Nature," he said bitterly with a mouth full of toast.
He looked out the window as he chewed. So much nature and clean air, he thought. It would be the death of him. He sighed. He was bored. There had been no activity for five weeks, except the normal daily check-ins.
He took another bite and sighed again more dramatically.
He graduated at the top of his class. He was one of the youngest analyst in his field. So where was he assigned? In the middle of God's the only one who can find it country.
He looked around the small sparingly furnished room that opened up into another similar room, which contained the door leading to the outside. He was assigned and lived in the average looking house, which was located in the middle of a very dull and average city.
No one could tell from the outside, of the vaulted doors in the basement; the interrogation room; or the mountain of weapons, passports and cash stored safely behind steel doors. It had everything that was necessary for operatives to get minor medical care, keep their targets safe, and interrogate suspects. It also contained enough weapons to fight a third world war.
If you have the proper security clearance of course.
He stuffed the last large piece of toast in his mouth and chewed a little quicker. He heard the telltale sound that alerted him to Intel coming in. He would save the information to an encrypted USB-portable storage device. It was not necessary with his photographic memory but it was protocol.
In a safe-house in a remote location. Intel came in on a secure line. The once bored man sitting back in a chair was instantly alert as he ran to the screen. A picture appeared as he studied it. His fingers danced across the screen as a series of codes symbols and numbers were typed enthusiastically, appearing instantly on the screen. White colored words blurred across a blackened screen. His brilliant mind quickly interpreted. Fingers raced across the blackened screen in answer.
Thirty-two minutes later a conference call was scheduled to two continents and twelve different countries within those continents. Eight different countries' agencies would act in cooperation. The name of Mycroft Holmes carried weight. That name had called into agencies in several countries that owed the Ice Man or the Ghost as he was sometimes called; favors.
The purpose of the conference was to make plans and shared information.
The once bored young man quickly changed into a suit as the secured connections came up one-by-one. He was the man who suddenly had everyone's attention and was enjoying it. He quickly checked his hair in the reflection of the computer screen and smoothed it down. He waited excitedly for the secure conference that would occur in fifteen minutes.
He paced back and forth with nervous energy. Earlier, he considered only wearing his suit and a dress shirt and tie on the top and blue jeans on his bottom half but reconsidered. It would be disastrous if he had to get up for some reason and it was discovered that he had jeans and not trousers on. He looked at his watch and smiled.
Show time, he thought. He took a deep breath.
"Good morning and also night for some of you. Ladies and gentlemen, we have a rescue mission. Priority one, repeat, priority one. A picture and general information is being downloaded by secure encryption. He is not to be harmed under any circumstances. However, he is to be retrieved by any means necessary. It is reported that the abductee may be confused and or combative. The abductee's name is one Sherlock M. Holmes. Broad shoulders, slim build, six feet-two and a half inches or one point nine meters, pale complexion, dark hair. He is a thirty-one year old male, may be suffering from injuries…"
He began what would be a four-hour conference. It was only the beginning of the combined efforts of people who were very determined to find the missing Consultant Detective, brother, and friend.
A/N: Hope that you enjoyed, let me know. :)