Sherlock Story

Forgotten Memories, Chapter 173

*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.

Warning Moriarty*****. *** T rated ****. ****Need I Say More?

A/N: Hi everyone. After today there will be four more post, and then, an epilogue. I have decided it would be fun to title these last posts.

1 It Begins.

2. Feed the Fire. (This week's post.)

3. Burn Baby Burn.

4. Ashes.

5. Epilogue

"… I can't count the times I have lagged seemingly hopelessly far behind, and nobody except myself thinks I can win. But I have pulled myself in from desperate [situations]. When you are behind there are two strategies – counter-attack or all men to the defenses… " chess strategy - Magnus Carlsen

Final Moves… Part II…"Attack or Defend… Feed the Fire.

"No risk attends the meed that silence brings." Augustus Caesar

Thirty-eight Hours Earlier

Airflight, Unknown Location

He saw him as he walked toward him, but said nothing.

Sebastian Moran's that down next to his boss. He unbuttoned his suit jacket, before clicking on his seatbelts. The sky was darkened. The airplane slid in and out of the angry gray clouds. A sudden bump of the aircraft caused everyone to lift then lower in their seats. The few unfortunate persons who were walking around, stumbled, and held onto the seats in the private, luxury, aircraft.

Moran notice Moriarty out of the corner of his eye. Moriarty had both hands firmly clasped on his seats. Moran pretended not to notice as he looked down at his shoes and waited. Eventually, he closed his eyes. After a few minutes, he heard the Consultant Criminal's voice.

"Do you have good news for me Seb," Moriarty asked. His voice was a little higher pitched than normal.

"Yes Mr. Moriarty." Sebastian turned to look at him fully now. "You once asked me what was in Dubai. We can answer that for you now, Sir."

Moran put on a slick smile. "We have located Adler. She seems to be going back and forth from that one location. We have taken steps to abduct her. But, she has always slipped past us. She was too well protected. The best opportunity will be in several days. Our sources say that she should be leaving in ten days. An older woman is there with her, two of her employees, a man, a woman, and their child. Also, an agent seems to be with them as well. It should not be difficult to get them in ten days when they travel."

Moran now, for the first time, noticed how Moriarty seem to be paying attention and deep in thought. He had taken off his sunglasses. "Since when does Irene travel with employees who have children…"

A thought into Jim's mind. It started as small suspicion, and quickly blossomed into an idea, an idea that would not be quieted.

"Describe this child to me," Moriarty said with as much of an even voice tone as he could.

A slight frown came to a Moran's face. "We only have one picture of the child. He was seen when he first entered the villa. He was seen with the older lady, playing. They were outside for only five minutes, before a younger man escorted them inside again." As Moran was speaking, his fingers flew across his smart phone. Within two minutes, he pulled up a picture. When Moran saw the picture, his mouth opened. He wordlessly gave his phone to his boss.

Moriarty was still for a minute as he stared at the image on the phone. The old woman could not be seen clearly, however, the camera seemed to have focus on the younger child. The younger smiling child. That dark curly hair, and the eyes, those incredible eyes. He had inherited his father's eyes.

Jim's eyes darted manically about as his mouth hung partially open. His eyes came to rest on the phone screen again. An odd sort of the sound burst out of his mouth. He alternated between manic laughter, and childlike giggles.

"Damn," he whispered slowly. "It's the quiet ones that surprised you," he whispered again.

Moriarty suddenly sat up straight. Even the slight turbulence of the airplane, escaped his attention. He pulled out the phone that was attached to the wall and spoke into the phone. "Change of location," he said quietly. "Dubai." He hung up the phone.

Moriarty smiled at Moran. Moran smiled back suddenly cheerful. "Bring me some champagne Seb. I feel like celebrating." Jim had a toothy grin on his face.

Thirty-eight Hours Earlier

221 B Baker Street

The brothers sat across from each other. Sherlock tried to pretend that he did not notice Mycroft looking at him. No, not looking at him, Mycroft never simply looked at anyone. He was assessing him, evaluating him, deducing him. It was annoying.

Sherlock sighed. "Mycroft I'm fine. You're being more irritating than usual. And that's saying quite a lot. I don't need to be mollycoddled."

Mycroft sighed. His only acknowledgment was a slight, and graceful, tilt of the head. "Everything will arrive for your memory treatments later. I hesitate given it to you. But unfortunately, dear brother, certain situations have become quite desperate. I am, however, still," Mycroft search for word, "concerned," is the word he settled on.

"No need for the treatments, I remember." Sherlock commented casually.

At Mycroft's questioning gaze, Sherlock commented further. "I remember everything including the last two months before I was kidnapped."

Mycroft could not hide his relief. After all that Sherlock had been through, he was not looking forward to three days of his brother undergoing more painful treatments, mind manipulations, or intravenous drug therapy.

"What country did you hide the computer file in. We need it immediately. It is critical to decoding the information that you've already given us." Mycroft asked as he pulled out his mobile and started texting Anthea to prepare the plane.

"England." A self-satisfied smile found its way to Sherlock's face. "I need to go to the manor."

Mycroft stopped texting instantly. A part of him was proud of his brother's cleverness. Another part was quite annoyed beyond belief. "You mean to tell me that I was searching the world, and it was here the entire time? Right under my nose, so to speak?"

"Yes," Sherlock smirked. "I quite enjoyed the idea of it."

Sherlock scolded. "Really Mycroft! With your superior mind, you should have known that I would have done something unexpected." Sherlock raised an eyebrow, "I left you several clues."

Mycroft simply raised an eyebrow as well. "I have been a tad bit busy, brother dear."

Sherlock conceded with a slight nod of his head.

"Where is it," Mycroft asked curiously.

"You'll find it in the manor. There is a panel behind the plasterboard." Sherlock's smile widened. "In my bedroom."

Sherlock started to move toward the door. Mycroft's long legs kept up with his stride, easily. Sherlock could not resist adding as he pulled on his overcoat, "That was your biggest clue Mycroft. You know how much I… Dislike my childhood bedroom. Why would I suddenly start sleeping in it when I visited?" Sherlock chuckled as he took the stairs quickly. His feet tapping in rhythm on the wooden floor as he descended. "And really Mycroft, did you think that I suddenly wanted to redecorate my old room, and put up new walls?"

Sherlock was enjoying the fact that he had so completely fooled his brother. Mycroft simply rolled his eyes. He bit his inner cheek, to keep from commenting, and remained silent.

Both brothers easily slid into the back seat of the Mercedes-Benz. The doors slammed hurriedly. After sending a quick text to John, Sherlock laid back his head on the leather car seat. His face turned toward the window, but he paid the images which past quickly no attention. He was deep in thought.

"What now," Mycroft said quietly, while looking at his Smartphone with burning intensity. His fingers did not slow down movement.

Sherlock glanced at Mycroft before shifting his reclined head and closing his eyes. "I think I know how to predict three possible locations that he might be at today. The list that I will give you has the names of several of his employees. Maybe persuade one," he corrected his thinking, this was his brother, "maybe all of them to cooperate. I also have several locations of property that he owns, that you are probably unaware of."

Mycroft raised his eyebrows impressed. "And they say Christmas only comes once a year."

Sherlock opened one eye and peered at his brother oddly, before closing it again.

"He is trying to distract me. Let's use his obsession against him." Sherlock paused thinking. "Use me as a distraction to him. Take the smug bastard down, Mycroft."

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. He was about to lecture his little brother on the need to not use profanity. He had noticed him uncharacteristically cursing several time in the last few days. He smiled instead and said. "One smug bastard it is."

"By the way, the audiotape was recovered and I personally destroyed it, along with the videotape." He frowned. "However, the rumors were already out."

Sherlock looked at Mycroft with a rare display of gratitude. He suddenly frowned.

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "No one was harmed."

Sherlock deduced his brother and raised an eyebrow, staring.

"No one was harmed... permanently," Mycroft clarified without apology.

Sherlock closed his eyes, satisfied.

Mycroft returned his full attention to his mobile phone screen, as he sent texts back and forth. A warm silence settled between the two brothers. The motor car turned quickly, gaining speed, as it sped through the streets of London, and headed for the Highway.

Thirty Hours Earlier

Just Outside of 221 B Baker Street

He blinked.

Short bursts of lights exploded in his eyes. He had Mycroft called the press conference. If information was going to come out, it was going to come out on his terms. He would not have someone take control of his life. It was also a proper distraction, while Mycroft did what Mycroft did best. At least that is what he had told himself for the past hour.

He walked up to the microphone. He had expected a turnout, but perhaps, not quite so many. He had been in front of news cameras many times before. Today was no different.

The burst of lights from news cameras, continued to flicker. Sherlock stood with 221B as his background.

Well dress television personalities stood with their cameramen beside them. Their practiced faces turned toward the cameras. Most had not heard the rumor. He had been careful to call the conference before the rumors could spread further.

A glare from the setting sun reflected off of one of the cameras, and momentarily blinded Sherlock's eyes, before it quickly diminished, as the cameramen adjusted his instruments.

Everyone was up in John and Sherlock's flat. Earlier, he had told them that he wanted to do this alone. He had been the one who had stressed that point, hadn't he? He did not regret it. That is what he told himself now.

Sherlock's eyes shifted. He noticed Kitty Riley in the background.

Riley's face was contorted with conflicting emotions. Holmes had surprised her by calling the conference. Ruining her story. She pouted in the background. The audiotape had disappeared. This was supposed to have been her story. Instead, she was in the background like an ordinary reporter. She comforted herself with the fact, that she was finally doing what she's tried to do for years, humiliate him.

Sherlock's eyes shifted away. He was sure Moriarty was watching with interest, and curiosity.

He sighed quietly.

Sherlock's eyes turned away and looked at the black microphone in front of him. Several pairs of eyes were glancing at each other. They were starting to look at him oddly. Sherlock wondered how long he had been standing in front of them silently. He supposed that he really should have been saying something. He was the one to call the press conference after all, wasn't he.

He glanced at the setting sun. The sky was ablaze with golden- orange shafts of light, which framed the clouds. The beautiful display disappeared behind the walls of the buildings in front of him. London skies had grown slightly darker.

His eyes returned to the microphone. He should say something. He reminded himself of this fact for the second time. His body remained still, but his eyes traveled to the back of the crowd, and slightly to the left. He noticed a small knowing smirk on Riley's face. The pout had left. There was some quiet mumbling among the newspaper, and television reporters now.

The mumbling suddenly stopped. The flashing of the cameras started again in earnest. The camera operators' shoulders became rigid, as they pointed the cameras to the left of the Consultant Detective.

There were people coming out of the door of 221B. Without looking, he felt John beside him. Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Molly, even Mycroft who normally would never be found in front of any type of media, was there. Sherlock's phone vibrated. He partially pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the text message. He pushed it back into his pocket.

John stepped closer to Sherlock, but did not touch. He had to speak. He reminded himself for the third time now. He should know, he was keeping count.

Some of the news reporter were starting to look at each other curiously again. Sherlock heard John clear his throat subtly. He turned his head and looked at John. John gave a brief glance and a slight nod. Sherlock gained strength.

He took a deep breath and started to speak. His voice was surprisingly strong and steady "I'll take no questions, this will be brief. I'd like to present the facts…"

Everyone was glued to Sherlock's every word. No one noticed the tall man standing close to Sherlock. There was one other fact that no one noticed, it was a small fact, but an important one. No one noticed when Mycroft took out his mobile and texted one word. It was, "Hello."