Sherlock Story
Forgotten Memories, Chapter 153
*Thanks so much for reading. Please do not forget to comment.
A disclaimer: Sherlock belongs to BBC along with the talented writers Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss; along with the 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.
*The first episode of Sherlock Series three is called the Empty Hearse. Thanks Voldemort101.*
Thank you for your recent post: mvignal (Thanks for your comments. I hope that you are well.), socalrose (Thanks for the multiple post. Put your dull spoon away, but keep it close.), Prothoe (Thanks for the multiple post. Get some tea love and enjoy.), HC (I am glad that you enjoyed the chapters. Moriarty ahead.), bruderlein (I agree that killing Anderson would have been too easy.), Kitiara88 ( Good guess. You're welcome for the quick update. More ahead I hope you enjoy.), kassandwich (More ahead. I hope that you are ready.), Esstell (Enjoy the read. :) ), Bookworm Gal (Good guess. You make a good point about John. He is the dangerous one.), hjohn302 (Thanks for your multiple post. Thanks love. Your word are always so encouraging.), lizzie1250 (You are correct. More ahead. :) ), nourss (Some answers ahead. Get ready.), Voldemort101 (Thanks for the information and help. :) ), gemstone1234 (I am glad that it was worth the wait. More ahead love.), Guest one (Calvin and Hobbes can be quite enlightening, Clears throat, or maybe I just like them.), Guest two (There is no such thing as too emotionally invested. Clears throat again. ) Guest three (Thank you for the multiple chapters. I am glad that Anderson's ending was satisfying.), Catie501 (Thanks for the multiple post. I am glad that you enjoyed the chapters.), danishprince (The only thing better than fluffy jumpers, is the soldier who wears them.), Natalia (thank you love, here is more. sexypurpleshirt ( I am glad that you liked it. More ahead.), Esstell (It is a hair raising chapter that you are on. Tea and biscuits are recommended.). To all other guest and PM's, thanks.
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*****. *** Warning drug reference T rated ****. ****
More soon.
Lots of Love.
**The answer to last week's fun question is #1. Pilot- A study in Pink. There were several good guesses. This one was difficult.
Congratulations: Socalrose, bruderlein, kassandwich, hjohn302, lizzie1250, nourss, Voldemort101, gemstone1234, Catie501 and Natalia. That was brilliant!
"…One trick is to put your king between the enemy's king and pawn-that's often enough for a draw. But do calculate a few moves ahead, because there's a big difference between drawing and almost drawing.."
… Drawing or almost drawing I…"
"Pawns: they are the soul of this game, they alone form the attack and defense"
~Philidor, quote about chess
Current Day
Current Time
The lines of the setting sun blurred and mixed with the yellow lazy haze of the atmosphere. Thin lines of dark gray clouds broke up the haze at set points in the sky. The United States Naval Aircraft Carrier rode the waves off the coast of San Diego, California. The large vessel rode the waves of the Pacific Ocean, as it headed out toward international waters.
The Admiral watched the man closely.
The man in the dark-blue suit walked on the deck of the naval carrier. His sunglass-clad eyes, gazed at the gray colored military fighter jets, as a steady northern breeze, blew. He walked slightly behind the secured fighter jets. Although it was kept quiet, some of the aircrafts had short-ranged nuclear capabilities. Several pairs of eyes followed the man. Several more glanced in his direction, and then quickly looked away. The sailors were used to men in suits, NSA, CIA, or a combination of agencies that were only rumored to exist. The inspectors, observers, visitors; whatever they were, always had impressive titles.
The British Government, America, Germany, along with several other countries, both major and several small but important ones, were all taking place in the practice exercises.
Five hours earlier, the Admiral had received the cryptic orders. He and his men were to set sail for an unknown destination. The Admiral would be told of their destination, only when they had reached international waters. He had done practice exercises many times before, but something about this one set his mind on edge, and caused his heart to beat a little faster.
The Admiral continued to watch the man as he looked carefully around the vessel. The man in the suit had already been through all the data. The man had spent hours going over every detail of the large vessels daily function, operation, and capabilities. The man was a strange one. The Admiral thought that he knew most of the regular observers, but not him. He was apparently taking the place of Evans. The poor man had a heart attack and died three days ago. The Admiral had known Evans for years. He was a good, and fair man.
The water was becoming more choppy. The vessel was starting to rock back and forth more. It was time to take the guest inside. He was not sure what the man was doing just staring at the fighter jets and looking at the flight deck for so long. It was almost as if he was memorizing the vessel.
The Admiral sighed impatiently. He put both hands in his uniform trouser pocket. The cool wind blew again and cooled his face. He took a deep breath and smelled the salt of the sea. It calmed his impatience slightly. The sea always did that for him. With Evans as the exception, those men from Washington were all a little strange in his opinion.
The Admiral watched impassively as they crossed into international waters. His secured mobile gave a special buzz to notify him of an incoming message. It was for his eyes only. Within minutes, the encrypted message was on his phone screen. He carefully hit several keys in the sequence that was memorized. The seasoned soldier frowned before carefully wiping all expression from his face.
The admiral looked at the man in the suit. He seemed to be finish doing whatever he was doing. He was simply watching the last rays of the sun disappear as it set.
The Admiral thought about the decrypted message. A chill ran through the Admiral, as he watched the man in the suit finally turn and walked toward him.
What the admiral did not know, was that in twenty-two countries around the world. On the ground, in the ocean, and in the air, various commanding officers were on alert. They had received the exact same message at the exact same time. The message once decrypted was short and to the point. The message caused their hearts to beat faster and their minds to race.
Yet, in truth, it was only two words. Activate J.A.N.D (Joint Arsenal and Nuclear Defense,) otherwise known to a chosen few as…
Project Lazarus.
Current Day
Current Time
They started to drive the moment the door closed. Mycroft sat across from John. He had to take a few minutes to steady himself. He was still angry and if he was honest, a little shaken from the meeting with Lestrade and the vile man, Anderson. It took every ounce of discipline not to attack the man right then and there.
John almost said the words, it's done. It would have sounded dramatic, but he knew that Mycroft could tell by one look on his face.
Instead, he said, "The security camera was a nice touch. Should I even ask you how you showed Anderson walking in, or moved him in there without being seen?"
Mycroft raised his eyebrows slightly. "That was rather a nice touch, was it not?"
John looked at the elder Holmes and now understood why Sherlock used to call him, "… the most dangerous man that you will ever meet…" If it was not for his strong love for England, and strong sense of principle, John had often thought that Mycroft had the potential to be more dangerous than even Moriarty.
"I just thought I'd say again how happy I am that you're on our side." John tried to smile. So did Mycroft. It was flat and hollow. There was a moment of silence before John repeated what Lestrade told him.
"The Yard found adequate grounds for disciplinary action based on the fact that Anderson withheld evidence, falsified documents, and was in possession of key evidence. Anderson was found to be not only negligent but have criminal intent."
John knew that Mycroft most likely already knew what he was saying, but he needed a distraction. "Anderson tampered with key Forensic evidence in a case that had international implications. He's behind bars now, there is to be a trial, but there is no doubt that he will be convicted and imprisoned for a long time. Sherlock stays completely out of it. He won't even be mentioned in the reports."
Mycroft Smartphone buzzed. He wordlessly took it out and read an incoming text as he opened an e-mail.
The former soldier looked at Mycroft. He understood the familiar expression. Critical information was coming to Mycroft, and was being issued from the same man. The elder Holmes had not said a word, yet, John knew that he not only heard everything he had said, but he could repeat it back to him verbatim, and tell him what he had for breakfast.
John looked more intently into Mycroft seemingly bored face. He had become proficient at reading the Holmes brothers. No one but Sherlock and he would notice, but Mycroft was tense. There was something happening, that Mycroft found unpleasant. And, it had nothing to do with Sherlock. Between Sherlock's abduction and the incoming text, Mycroft was stressed.
John smiled without humor. Neither Mycroft nor Sherlock would ever admit to that stress.
He waited patiently as he practiced his deductive skills.
Mycroft's fingers moved furiously across the keys of his secured Smartphone. John had noticed the absence of Anthea. At first, he thought it was to give them privacy to discuss Sherlock, but that was out of character. Anthea, and Agent Thomas were the only two people that were in Mycroft's inner circle, with Mary Myers close outside that circle.
John knew some of the facts but not all. Whatever had been of concern to Mycroft lately, Sherlock seemed to know what it was about. Whether he was told by Mycroft, or figured it out with his extraordinary mind alone, it did not matter. Sherlock had done everything, sacrificed everything to protect the delicate balance that Mycroft and Moriarty had, until a way to defeat the lunatic once and for all, could be worked out.
Mycroft finally finished and glanced out the window briefly before returning his gaze to John.
John looked at Mycroft and asked. "Everything alright then?"
Mycroft glanced at John. "I'm working toward that goal."
John changed the subject. "Am I correct to think that Anderson cannot get out of this?"
"The magistrate issued the search warrant. Double evidence has been collected and sent to two different locations as a precaution. The results of his blood test will also be submitted into evidence. I was careful to keep my name out of it. Moriarty's spies in Scotland Yard are being watched closely, and fed small amounts of false information. We've given no indication that we are even aware of their existence." Mycroft glanced at John. "Another officer was disciplined on a similar, but less severe matter, of negligence because of misplacing evidence. There are no triggers that would alert Moriarty. To anyone who cares to take notice, it would appear to be an internal Scotland Yard matter."
There was another moment of silence.
John spoke first. It could not be avoided any longer. "How is he?"
Mycroft put away his mobile, laced his fingers together as he rested them on his crossed legs, and spoke. "The results are back. There were no drugs in his system. No cocaine, heroin, or any other popular street drug, except for a dose of muscle relaxant mixed with a paralytic. The needle was clean. We don't have to worry about disease."
Mycroft stopped for a moment and looked out. A small smile graced his face. "He finally woke. He woke within minutes of you leaving. All the medical workers are afraid of him. You really must do something with him, John. Sherlock insists on going to Baker Street within the hour. He will not let anyone treat him since he woke up. I negotiated with him to keep the IV in place until you arrived."
"I see. Thank you." John looked at Mycroft and asked again.
"How is he?" They both knew what he meant.
Mycroft looked at John without saying a word. Concern appeared on his features but was gone within seconds. It was a slight movement and could easily have been missed. John did not miss it. He nodded.
"Take me to him," John turned and looked out the window.
Mycroft's voice floated over his shoulders, "We're already on our way, John."
Current Day
Current Time
Moran sat quietly in the plush armchair. This was one of the few times that he had not accompanied Moriarty… Jim. He took a sip of wine from Jim's private reserve. Sebastian did not notice that he had been getting bolder. This was the second time that he drank from Moriarty's private stock of wine.
He looked at the glass of wine. His fingers stroked the edge of the glass absently. It was cool but not cold. He smiled as he swirled it around the glass. Sebastian closed his eyes as he took a small gulp and held it in his mouth for a few minutes before swallowing it down. He sighed contently.
He glanced around his room as if someone could see him. What if they did? He did not fear anyone but Moriarty, and Moriarty was out the country.
Strong, slim fingers tightened around the wine bottle, as he poured the wine. The yellow fluid fell in beautiful liquid ribbons, filling the crystal wine glass. He knew he was not supposed to fill the glass to the rim, but it tasted good. Besides, who would know about it. He did not see the wine police anywhere in the room.
Sebastian chuckled at his own mental joke. He stopped himself after a few seconds. He frowned when he realized that he had finished almost half the bottle. Maybe this should be his last glass of wine. He pushed away the thought that he was taking a risk by drinking Moriarty's wine. He allowed staff to have wine, very good wine in fact, but none were from his private stock like this one. Besides, Moriarty preferred red wine most of the time, this was white.
Sebastian was not drunk enough to open one of his more expensive wines. Moriarty, he meant Jim, had a bottle of a 1787 Sauternes from Château d'Yquem. Jim had not even blinked when he was told that the wine would cost him £55,000. All for something, he would probably never drink. The wine that Sebastian was drinking only cost a few hundred pounds. That was nothing to a man like Jim.
One hand held the wine glass securely as the other hand ran along the plush armchair. He smiled contently.
Sebastian was unable to stifle a sudden yawn. He glanced at his watch. It was getting late in the day. He smiled a satisfied, contented sort of smile. By this time, Holmes should be so full of drugs in his system; he should not know the name of his friends, by morning, he would not know his own name.
An alcohol fueled giggle occurred. The normally reserved, former soldier allowed it. Holmes had been an irritating stress to his system, but that was all in the past now. Sebastian took a sloppy gulp. The sound of him swallowing was audible. The back of his slightly calloused hands, wiped away the few stray drops of wine.
His only regret was not being able to take part in Mr. Holmes education. And he would be educated. His thoughts receded into the darker corners of his mind, he lingered there briefly. Something pulled him away from his pleasure-filled thoughts. Holmes was resourceful; he had believed that he had him before. Surely, even the fool Anderson could not ruin such a detail and well thought out plan?
He took another gulp, barely noticing the moisture left on his lips. His tongue came out without thought and licked the moisture. He pushed the unpleasant thoughts away.
Moran looked at the wine glass and frowned. His frown soon left as a smile returned. He would not come within a meter of Holmes in the next three days. He had been careful to have a local drug addict, who was the brother of a man Holmes had imprisoned, to kidnap him. Every detail had been arranged. If the fool Anderson was not able to follow the plan, and he was arrested, it was of no concern to him. His only concern was the torture and edification of Mr. Holmes.
As the dark thoughts flooded his mind, his mood lightened again.
He took the last of the wine in two large gulps. He put the glass down on the table next to his chair as he sighed contently.
In four days, a drug induced Holmes would emerge so damaged, anyone who knew him would not recognize the man. Even Moriarty would lose interest. His mind was what Jim admired. There would not be much of any mind left, much less such a brilliant one.
Moran snickered as he turned his head. He stifled another yawn. Moriarty told him to distract the Consultant Detective, while he finalized the last of his preparation. He however was forbidden to touch him physically.
He smiled as he giggled. The sound seemed almost manufactured, odd, and out of place as it escaped the former soldier.
He had followed orders. He did not touch the Consultant Detective.
At least not with his own hands.
He stood as he stretched. He would have to be careful to distance himself for the next four days. He would not even risk contacting the spies that were in Scotland Yard. In four days, he would find out the fate of Sherlock Holmes along with the world.