Sherlock story
Forgotten Memories, Chapter 26
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.
** Thank you for your reviews and PMs of the last post. Guest (I could not respond back but you are appreciated), eohippus, Puky2012, Prothoe, hJohn302, Warm-Glow, and Jenna Yemowa. I hope you enjoy the next chapters.
Thanks everyone for your support.
Thank you ; Taylor501, socalrose, Lunita28, Nietzsches, ShiverandShamy , briongloid fiodoir, Isaldaria, hanging in there, Warm-Glow, Voldemort101, Tammy, Taylor501, bruderlein, Esstell, Lunita28, Burning Phoenix, bruderlein, danishprince, drpaz, April29Roses, ShiverandShamy, christistina, waterbaby, 84, and Peacefreakx3 for your review and PMs. Cyber Hugs! **
T rated but some future chapters may be M.
"The soul that has conceived one wickedness can nurse no good thereafter." ~ SOPHOCLES, Philoctetes
Current Day
He looked out the window as they approached the ground. His body was pulled heavily by gravity as the plane descended. His hands gripped the sides of his seat as he placed his feet firmly to the floor of the aircraft. It was a particularly windy day and the pilot of the small aircraft adjusted to the conditions as he landed.
Mr. Moriarty would not take any delays nor wait for conditions to be more favorable. There were slight bumps as the airplane landed and slowed, then came to a stop. Moriarty stretched his shoulder as he stifled a yawn. He waited for his men to get his luggage with a bored look.
Soon he would not be bored. He pulled out his mobile and tapped the phone on his cheek thinking. A slow smile spread on his face.
Moriarty looked at his mobile and texted a message on the plane. Jim Moriarty took a moment to stretch again. He pushed more buttons and now looked at the screen.
It was about to be a long but enjoyable night. He smiled in anticipation as he turned his face to look out the window of the airplane.
"Love knows no limit to its endurance, no end to its trust, no fading of its hope; it can outlast anything. Love still stands when all else has fallen." ~ Anonymous
Doctor John Watson was doing a terrible job of pretending not to listen to Mycroft's conversation. Mycroft finally disconnected the call. He frowned.
"I knew that she was on assignment why didn't you tell me that she was involved with Sherlock rescue," John asked.
"Why, because you get off with her?" Mycroft glanced over a report.
"How…" John started to ask.
"Are you really going to insult me by asking me how I knew? Despite your attempts of being discreet, it was obvious that you and Mary Myers were involved." Mycroft turned the report in his hand to the next page, "I am not obligated to tell you every time I send one of my operatives on assignment."
John looked at him.
"Do not be concerned John," His voice softened. "She's one of my best freelance agents. She can easily take down men twice her size…" Mycroft smirked "… or do you know that already."
John's eyes narrowed as he looked at Mycroft without blinking. "Actually, I do know that Mycroft. In fact I quite enjoy it when she takes me down."
Mycroft looked up from his report now then stared strangely at John wordlessly for a moment before saying, "A little too much information, don't you think?"
"You started it," John folded his arms and glared somewhat childishly.
Both men stared in silence before John looked down sighing then looked back to Mycroft. They were both worried and probably a little irritable from the lack of sleep, John thought. He did have to admit that Mycroft however, was doing a good job hiding that fact.
"I don't care about the fact that she is there, as you pointed out she could probably kick my arse. I want the very best when it comes to Sherlock. I am however wondering what else you're keeping from me Mycroft."
They were interrupted by the click of Anthea's heels.
"Sir, Intel has come in. Agent Myers came in possession of a vial of a sample drug and a microchip. There have been complications at the mansion. Mr. Moriarty will be back in three days," Anthea said, then returned her eyes to her mobile phone screen.
"I thought the implanted agent said he wasn't to return for three weeks." John commented.
"Plans change," Mycroft said already distracted and deep in thought.
"We're not prepared to go in. We could without much difficulty invade the mansion, but not without substantial bloodshed. They would kill Sherlock before we attain him. They'll be no aid from that government, the government is not cooperative."
"The message was from Adler. She passed it on to agent Myers." Mycroft glance at John as he pushed in keys on his phone.
"You don't look surprised John." Mycroft said calmly, still texting.
"I didn't know Mycroft." John said quietly with a frown. "I do admit to the fact that I am not surprised."
"She has to be removed before Moriarty returns." Mycroft put his phone down and spoke not just to John now but Anthea and the room full of agents that had materialized.
"Sir, it would appear that they are not allowing anyone to leave the mansion. They've given them all rooms. From what I understand, it was not a request." An agent spoke that John did not know the name of.
Mycroft stared ahead and blinked rapidly then stilled as he quieted his mind. He processed the current data based on what was known of Moriarty and the information retrieved from Sherlock's USB storage device. Everyone knew not to speak until he spoke.
Mycroft blinked then opened his eyes.
"He's being deceptive," Mycroft said almost absently.
"Who, Moriarty?" John asked.
Mycroft nodded in affirmation.
"Sherlock is his one obsession. He would not be able to resist playing with him, even if he feels he's taking a risk in doing so, so soon. He… shall we say… get pleasure from taking the risk. Also, Sherlock is no longer being treated in a… friendly manner. I am afraid we can no longer delay."
Mycroft closed his eyes. "He's on his way back now, not in three days." Mycroft said more quietly, "He may already be arriving as we speak."
He got up and stood now. John noticed a rare show of irritation as it flashed on his face. It was quickly replaced with his normal icy exterior. "I need to know Thomas's ETA. Tell him that unless there is an imminent threat of life; stand down."
"Relay this information to all of the agents and operatives in place," Mycroft ordered.
"It's already been done by the analyst, Mr. Patel." Anthea said as her fingers danced across the screen."
Mycroft nodded as he looked grim.
Get the jet ready. I want to move and be on the ground personally. My movements are to be discreet. No one is to be aware that I've left the country. We have to be in and out in five days, no longer. Before the government is aware of our presence. Our plants in the government will keep our movements to a minimum and alert us to danger.
"When do we leave?" John asked.
"Packed are you?" Mycroft said frostily, "Who else is going, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson?"
He's being a smart arse, John thought to himself. He would not say it however.
"Lestrade did say to tell you that he's due holiday time. With Mrs. Hudson's hip, it may be best if she stays." He was serious about Greg.
Mycroft stared. He did not always understand sentiment, emotions, or jokes. He hoped that this was the latter, a bad joke.
"We don't, I do." The elder Holmes said finally.
John looked at him, arms folded now.
"You don't seriously think that I am taking you along." Mycroft said calmly but underneath the surface, John knew he was angry. He had become an expert at reading the Holmes brothers. He doubted anyone else could tell.
"I have military friends who are standing by. I am owed a few favors and have called them all in." John folded his arms. He did not mean for it to sound like an ultimatum, but it was.
"Is that why you're been practicing your hand-to-hand combat for over a week." John did not bother to ask how he knew.
Mycroft raised himself to his full height. He stood over him glaring openly now. That was a bit not good, John thought to himself as he held his ground.
"Really John," Mycroft voice was slightly mocking, "… how old are you? You think you're going next door to play toy soldiers with the other children? I already have to worry about Adler as an unknown factor. Do you really think that I am going to add you to the equation?"
John held his ground and refused to drop his eyes. He did have to admit to himself that Mycroft could be intimidating.
Neither said a word for a brief time.
Mycroft eyes became dangerous. John had seen him give Sherlock the look a few times. This was the first time that the look was directed at him.
"You know I can stop you John." His voice lowered. "Easily."
"Yes, yes you can." John admitted quickly. "And that's what it will take to stop me. I'll be a headache, you know I will. I'll try to escape at every turn. Couldn't you watch me better if I am right next to you?"
He took Mycroft's silence as an invitation to continue. "Mycroft I am a combat experience soldier. For four years, I manage to stay alive and save the lives of many men, all the while with someone shooting and determine to kill me and my men on a daily base. I am not fragile."
Mycroft slowly smiled despite himself. John was loyal to his brother. He was also a bit of an idiot to willingly walk into hell. Whether the doctor realized it or not, that is what he would be doing. Mycroft decided to try a different approach. Of course, he already deduced that it would not work.
"John It's come to my attention that Moriarty has a desire to reacquaint himself to you. I've stopped five attempted abductions on you in this short time John. Five. I need you safe and as far away from that criminal as possible. There's no telling what he has in mind. If you were to be captured trying to free Sherlock…"
John nodded. Mycroft was trying to keep him safe not trying to keep him away from the rescue mission, but in typical Holmes tradition. He could not come out directly and say that. He used his action to convey emotions.
John nodded. He raised his eyebrow then a slow smile crept along his face. "If he wants me…"
Mycroft looked at his face and frowned. He instantly knew what he was suggesting. His frown deepened; he turned his back to everyone. He stood still and thought. "I do not say this lightly. He is clever. We may be playing right into his hands, John."
"It's a chance that I am willing to take. Sherlock would, and have done the same for me," John said easily.
"I suppose you're right. You two would walk into hell for each other, hopefully, to pull the other person out." Mycroft's back was still to John. John knew the moment that Mycroft agreed to let him try to help. His shoulders stiffened. When he turned around the iceman was back.
"John, I made concession in the event that you insisted on coming."
Mycroft nodded. An agent brought in a briefcase. "I will not allow you to come without tracking."
"Mycroft, I doubt that if captured, they won't go through my clothing. Possible even strip me of them and all phones and devices," John said thinking.
"They won't be able to remove this one. It is under the skin. It is the size of a grain of rice. It is virtually undetectable by all but the most sensitive equipment. We'll be able to locate your position to an accuracy of forty yards, and we can enable cryptography data flow that can pick up voice wave, scramble it, then it is interpreted by a computer. In other words, in a sense, we'll be able to hear what you hear within a few yards of your body. It has its drawbacks; you will not be able to hear us. In addition, any direct blow, if it is violent enough can disable it permanently. In addition, it has a life of only two months.
"I don't plan to be gone that long if taken." John interrupted.
"No one ever plans to be gone that long John." Mycroft warned for the last time. A medical shotgun was taken out.
John did not hesitate, "Anything else that I need to know."
Mycroft sighed.
"The body breaks it down and absorbs it after three months. To prevent that it can be taken out after two."
"Alright, let's do it." John thought for a moment. "You said a direct blow can disable it. Where exactly do you plan to put it?"
Mycroft raised his eyebrows and looked.
"Bloody hell," John whispered.
A/N: Comments are my cookie, I like cookies. :)