Sherlock Story

Forgotten Memories, Chapter 177

*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?

"… 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 III … "Attack or Defend… Burn Baby Burn."

"Live every day like it's your last, because one day you'll be right." ~ Frank Sinatra.

Current Day

Undisclosed Location

Holmes and Moriarty stared at each other. Neither one moved. Holmes had two cars and five agents surrounding him. Moriarty had twelve gunmen beside him. And that was what he could see.

It was an isolated area. There were two cars, which could be seen. The two black cars were parked in the opposite direction; the warehouse was only a few meters away.

"You weren't supposed to bring anyone with you." Moriarty said casually.

Mild impatience colored Holmes' voice. It contradicted his expressionless face. "Life's full of disappointments, isn't it?" There was a moment of silence.

"I'm here," was Holmes cool reply. "I will uphold my end of the bargain, I expect you to uphold yours."

"Do you really?" Moriarty asked unperturbed. "I'm afraid that I did not get that memo."

221B Baker Street

Current Day

Mrs. Hudson frantic voice floated down to Mrs. Hudson's flat. He immediately stood and ascended toward the door hurriedly. He heard John moving as well. A flood of man pushed their way through the door with urgency. John reached for his gun but a firm hand on his arm stopped him.

John looked at the open frown on the normally stoic man's face, before following his eyes upward.

He ignored the chaos and ran up the stairs taking them two at a time. "Where's Mycroft," he whispered to himself as he continued to scan the room. A cold chill came in gripped him.

His phone, where was his mobile phone, he wondered in thought. Sherlock ran over to the table. His mobile was missing, in this place was Mycroft's mobile. He grabbed it.

He heard footsteps behind him. He knew by the pattern that it was John.

"Is everything okay?" John asked. One look at the taller man's face, and he knew that something was wrong. Everyone had been on edge.

He said nothing. He walked around the room, taking everything in. He wouldn't just leave without saying something, Sherlock thought, unless… A horrible thought came to his mind. He remembered Moriarty's words to him, 'You must know that the audiotape was only the beginning. Now that we've made a fire. Let's feed the flame.'

Several agents walked in. Four immediately ran up to 221B, several more ran into Mrs. Hudson apartment. One agent walked up to Sherlock and spoke rapidly. Sherlock recognized him. He was the agent that helped him when he was a hostage at the hospital. Sherlock recalled that Agent Pearson was his name.

He heard John's voice in the background. His voice was raised high in an effort to give himself and authoritative tone. Sherlock blocked it out. He blocked out Agent Pearson speech about his protection. His eyes glanced around 221B. Without listening to the rest of the agent's speech, he turned suddenly and walked quickly toward the kitchen table.

He heard an unfamiliar heavy gate. The person walked with authority. Without looking he asked, "Agent Pearson, where's Mycroft Holmes?"

"Sir I was told to protect you. And keep you out of harms way…"

Sherlock turned now to look as he spoke with a false calm, "I asked you a question Agent Pearson. I won't ask a second time."

Agent Pearson opened his mouth to recite protocol, but one look at the younger Holmes and he closed it. His limited experience with him told him one thing. If he didn't cooperate, but argued protocol with the man, and then procedures, he would disappear and try to find his brother on his own. Agent Pearson repressed a curse he wanted to express.

"It would appear that your brother have been abducted, Sir. I have agents who have gone to the drop-off location, however," there was a hesitation. "Mr. Holmes is no longer there."

He felt John before he saw him. The voices had grown quiet, all attention was on him. "Abducted? Are you insane," he laughed without humor, "this is Mycroft Holmes, no one can touch him. Don't you understand that?" Sherlock spit out through gritted teeth, as he started to pace. First slowly, then he picked up the pace as his movements became more animated. "This is ridiculous..., bonkers..., daft..."

When it came to Mycroft being hurt, it was amazing how outrageously vulnerable it made Sherlock feel. Muttering now joined his pacing. No one knew if he was muttering to himself, or to them.

"No one touches Mycroft… This is insane… No one…" He stopped suddenly. It was as if muddied water was purified. Everything became clear. He turned angry eyes toward Mycroft's phone, which he clutched in his hand more firmly, as he hissed, "If Moriarty doesn't kill you Myc, I will." He was too angry to see the hypocrisy of his own words.

Current Day

Undisclosed Location

"You've been rather knotty. You do realize that you almost killed me," Moriarty said in a voice that fluctuated between amusement and irritation.

"It was a mistake," Mycroft said with a false smile, "the almost part, of course."

"Please," Moriarty said as he gestured elegantly toward the black sedan, which had materialized.

Holmes smiled falsely. "First things first, don't you think."

"You really haven't thought this out have you?" Moriarty smiled. It was long, but thin; his face became longer at the bottom. "I'm surprised at you. Disappointed is more accurate of a word." He spoke a little more quietly, as if they were having an intimate talk. "Was this an emotional decision? It's so rare when I see the Iceman melt."

"There's no need for insults," Mycroft interjected without expression.

Moriarty ignored Mycroft's comment, as he walked closer to Holmes, "What's to stop me from forcing you into this car, from disregarding everything I've said to you, every promise that was made to you." His smile became broader, "Two Holmes is better than one. Of course, three is better than two. But four, now that's a party!" He yelled with his arms widely spread .

He added thoughtfully with a slight giggle. "I do enjoy my Holmes."

Mycroft's eyes snapped to Moriarty's dark shiny orbs. The implication was clear. Did his plans go wrong? Did they have William? Was Moriarty bluffing? He forced the rare panic that threatened to rise down, violently. He had to think. He silently looked in the madman's eyes, thinking, deducing.

Moriarty knew of William's existence, lovely, he thought with irritation. But… He did not have him. Not yet. Mycroft would not give any additional information away. Mycroft made his face impassive. He played a role he had never played in his life. He played dumb. He pretended that the comment was not understood.

Jim's face suddenly took on a deadly serious expression. "Would you like to walk to the car, or would you like to be carried? My men easily outnumber yours despite your little toy guns."

"Please," Mycroft Holmes said with a rare chuckle.

Jim Moriarty looked at the elder Holmes with a rare intensity and pure concentration. He raised an eyebrow when the pieces came together. "Bomb?"

"Bomb is such a nasty word, don't you think. That's your area, not mine. I prefer the use of the word explosives." Mycroft Holmes walked the short distance until he and Moriarty were eye-to-eye. "Do you care to test my resolve Mr. Moriarty?"

Moriarty inclined his head slightly. Within minutes, a tall elegant woman was being led out of the warehouse. She looked a little disheveled. It took all of Mycroft's considerable skill, to remain stonefaced. His knuckles became white, as he squeezed his umbrella tightly to control his expression.

Moriarty seemed to follow his eyes to Miranda spruced face and smiled. "Oh, one of my men got a little carried away. Disobeyed my orders." He looked at Mycroft with a mock look of pity. "I'll turn him over to your men if you like," he put a hand thoughtfully to his chin, "of course you will need a rubbish bag, possibly two."

Mycroft's eyes traveled silently over Jim Moriarty's face, but he said nothing. His eyes shifted to the left.

Miranda Holmes walked carefully one hand slightly in front of her. She did not trust her footing due to her blindfolded eyes.

"Wait," Mycroft's voice said as she came within reach.

"Mycroft?" Miranda asked with relief and apprehension.

"Yes," he answered simply as his eyes traveled across her, deducing. There was a bruise on her jaw. Mycroft's jaw clenched when he saw the bruises in the shape of hand prints on her wrist as well as the face. She had been slapped, and grabbed rather hard. Still, all things considered, she looked surprisingly good.

"Is Sherlock safe?" She hesitated not wanting to give secrets away but having to ask, "Is everyone safe?"

Mycroft knew she meant William, his mother Irene, and Thomas. "Yes," He answered.

He nodded to his men, who took her from Moriarty's men. She stopped abruptly. A horrible thought entered her mind.

"Mycroft…" Miranda's words were cut off.

"I shan't be long," Mycroft said with a subtle tone that warned her to stop talking.

She closed her mouth and frowned. She raised her chin bravely, "I'll see you shortly dear." An unease settled inside her heart. She trusted Mycroft and his judgment, but the feeling would not go away. She allowed herself to be lead away.

Mycroft watched without expression as all the agents left and drove his mother away.

Moriarty said almost pleasantly. "You really shouldn't lie to your mother. That's what most people say, isn't it."

Mycroft ignored Moriarty. He continued to look as the cars drove away, until they were out of sight. He then turned to Moriarty. Moriarty looked at him. He continued to look at the Consultant Criminal, when the sounds of gravel filled his ears. A second of Moriarty's cars pulled up beside him. The vehicle rested a few yards away, at best.

He walked toward Moriarty's car with his umbrella. Moriarty put one hand slowly on the umbrella, "May I?" Jim asked as he took the umbrella away. He looked at Mycroft as he examined the umbrella. A click on the handle revealed a blade. He looked at Mycroft with raised eyebrows. "That doesn't actually work, does it?"

"With everyone but you, in fact," Mycroft said slowly with a false smile.

Moriarty walked until he was practically touching Moriarty and whispered, "I'm not most people, Mr. Holmes." His normal manic look left. An eerie calm took its place as he said, "Shall we begin?"

221B Baker Street

Current Day

Agent Pearson was trying to reason with the younger Holmes. It was not working at all.

Sherlock looked into Agent Pearson's eyes. "Let's come to an understanding. I will be accompanying you to rescue my brother," John cleared his throat, Sherlock's eyes shifted to John and back to Agent Pearson. "As well as Doctor Watson. We really don't have time for a disagreement." Sherlock laughed humorlessly, "And if you think that you can somehow stop me, I think that my reputation speaks for itself."

Agent Pearson looked unhappy.

"You can simply tell him that I escaped, and you had no choice but to pursue." Sherlock folded his arms defiantly.

"I see," Agent Pearson said evenly. "You do realize that we don't even have an idea of where he is, Sir." Sherlock ignored everyone, as his fingers flew across Mycroft's phone. Sherlock punched in the codes. He waited a few seconds before coordinates appeared.

Sherlock closed his eyes then opened them. "Under the arm," he whispered. Relief showed clearly. His smile betrayed his pride in his brother's cleverness, as well as his annoyance in his brother's craftiness. "How long does it take the tracker to activate?"

"Thirty minutes, Sir." The agent said quickly as he pulled out his cell phone. His second-in-command started to give orders.

"That's too long," Sherlock hissed irritably. "Ten minutes with Moriarty is too long." Sherlock started to pace.

John came up to Sherlock, "I know an analysts that was very good. He assisted us when you were kidnapped." Sherlock nodded. John ran off to talk to one of the agents.

The ring of Mycroft's mobile caught everyone's attention. The room suddenly became quiet. The loud ambient noise shifted into quiet, hushed whispers.

An agent clicked on a machine, and took up his mobile as he nodded at Sherlock with his head.

The mobile rang again. Sherlock connected.

"You've been rather busy," Sherlock said immediately knowing who it was. "

"Quite." There was amusement in Moriarty's voice. "By the way, don't bother to trace this. You'll only frustrate yourself."

Sherlock's voice was cool and steady. It did not betray the racing of his heart. "Two questions. Where is he? What do you want?"

"You. But guess who interfered. I wanted to play with you, but, big brother came in your place. I could not let the opportunity to have him pass. He's a rather difficult man to obtain. You understand don't you dear. It was quite a sentimental move on his part. I'm rather disappointed in the Iceman. As I said before..., Noble... Is... Boring!"

Sherlock's voice broke the moment of silence. "What happens now?"

"I get to feed the fire, my dear." There was a few more seconds of silence, as the sound of a car door slamming in the background was heard. "I'm afraid that I had unexpected business to take care of. But don't worry, I made sure that your brother was … comfortable before I left." Moriarty's voice took on a particularly evil tone. "I had a few things to say to your brother personally, before I left. I started with hello. When I get back, I'll end with – goodbye."

"What do I need to do to get him back?" Sherlock interjected quickly, "Alive, of course, just to be clear."

"Don't be so dramatic Sherlock. You'll get him back eventually. Personally, I didn't think of the alive part. But you might be able to convince me to give him back to you. Broken, of course." there was a giggle. "After all I gave you back Mummy Dearest, isn't that enough? Where's my thank you?"

Moriarty sighed dramatically.

"People nowadays just aren't as polite as they used to be." Moriarty's voice suddenly became all business.

Sherlock could not hide the loud exhaled breath that came unbidden from his mouth. John was by his side in a minute, his hand on his arm.

"If you hurt her. You will be taking an extended rest, and that's not a euphemism. I will kill you." Sherlock's voice had deepened with anger.

"I thought we discussed the do not be dramatic part already love. She's on her way to you. And before you get your knickers in a twist, she's unharmed, relatively." There was a moment of silence. "I won't promise the same thing about your brother, the lovely Mrs. Adler," he chuckled, "or anyone else that might be related to you, or, forgive the word, loved by you." he paused, "That includes that pet of yours. Tell him hello, by the way. Well, I'll be off."

It was a moment of silence. Sherlock's mind unbidden, deduced the sounds. He concluded that Moriarty was entering an airplane.

"Sherlock, Sherlock, I'm your only friend whether you know it or not. The people around you are lying to you, keeping secrets from you, the lot of them. They are not trustworthy, or worthy of you. You can feel it, can't you, my dear." Moriarty whispered so quietly it was barely audible, "Secrets, Secrets… Secrets"

Sherlock said nothing. His hands clenched the phone more firmly. He would not let Moriarty know, that he felt the truth in his words. It made the sting of those words more bitter.

Moriarty's voice became cold as ice. It was as if Sherlock could feel the lunatics breath on his cheek. Jim recited in an eerie, monotone cadence.

"Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall,
King Mycroft's Horses and King Mycroft's men
Couldn't put Sherlock together again… burn."

The line disconnected abruptly.

Sherlock blinked a few times. None of his thoughts were pleasant. He looked toward the agent who was trying to trace the call. He shook his head grimly once. Sherlock had not expected it to work. His eyes then shifted to John. The mobile phone was still in John's hand. He had been speaking quietly on his mobile to someone.

John studied his friend's face, without pausing his current conversation. He nodded at the look that Sherlock gave him, as he spoke into his mobile phone. "Mr. Patel. We need those coordinates," he looked into his best mate's eyes, "As soon as possible."

"I was contacted by Agent Thomas earlier Doctor Watson. I will have the exact coordinates in five minutes. In the meantime, I can point you in the right direction, Sir." Kevin Patel's voice floated in.

Within a minute, Sherlock, John, and several agents ran out the door. They called for backup, but Agent Pearson knew Holmes the younger well enough to know that he would not wait. There was no time.

A/N: Part B Saturday. Part C on Monday. Fun question and acknowledgments then. Lots of Love.