Sherlock Story
Forgotten Memories, Chapter 179
*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?
Note: Radionuclide Identification Device (RID) measures radiation.
1 It Begins.
2. Feed the Fire.
3. Burn Baby Burn. (This week's post.) Part A today/ Part B Saturday/ Part C Monday-Tuesday.
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 III … "Attack or Defend… Burn Baby Burn."
Part B
"We dance round in a ring and suppose, While the secret sits in the middle and knows" ~ Robert Frost
The United States of America
Undisclosed Location
Current Day
Soldiers with automatic weapons were standing at attention throughout the building. The man in the suit walked with a determined stride. Two armed men in suits walked beside him.
He glanced at his watch and quickened his stride.
Within a few minutes, they reached a huge, open space. There was an odd, rectangular glass room, located in the middle of the secure, undisclosed military facility. It was a short walk ahead now. They walked to the glass room. It was long, but not very wide. The armed escorts walked the man up to the door, but did not enter.
Mycroft watched, as a man was escorted into the room. The German representative had been the last to arrive. The clear glass became suddenly opaque when the door was closed. No one could see, or hear what was occurring in the room.
The only thing the room contained was one very long table. It filled the room. Twelve chairs were positioned on one side of the table, and twelve on the other. Silver colored microphones were positioned directly in front of each chair.
After the initial introductions were made, the representative from the United States spoke. "Most of you have traveled far, so let's get to the matter at hand. Four scientists are missing. They were killed when a private chartered airplane crashed off the coast of the Moneron Island. It was an unfortunate event for Russia."
"It was... reported that they were stationed in a secret laboratory on the Island." The speaker paused briefly, as he considered the best way to express his point. "It has come to our attention that what they were… experimenting with, and investigating have international consequences. What was an unfortunate event for Russia has turned into an unfortunate event for the world."
"I cannot confirm the existence of such a place." The Russian Representative blurted out a little too quickly.
"Yes. Well, the British Representative will take over from here, since it was he who requested this gathering." The United States representative walked quickly to his seat and sat. They were already behind schedule.
Mycroft was quiet. He looked at the table, his finger traced circles on the table for a few minutes. He waited for everyone to settle down.
"Everyone in this room is intelligent. There are four missing Russian scientist. And I do believe them to be missing, not dead. Doctor Petrov, and Doctor Ivanov are experts in detonators, boosters, and bursting charges. Doctor Tarasovis, is an expert in the casing of the explosives. And Doctor Alekseevis, a mathematician. He is an expert in the geometry of high explosives, and assisted in the design of warheads, including nuclear warheads." He smiled falsely, as he turned toward the Russian representative, and added before he could speak, "These facts are confirmed."
"It was rumored that the experimental weaponry, which we named, were not just theoretical, and fully functional, but tested. And some of the technology might have been, shall we say, borrowed." Mycroft put a false smile on his face, "Of course, I am not implying that the Russian government had anything to do with their disappearance. I am saying that all insight into the experiments are necessary not only for the protection of your country, but the protection of us all."
The false smile left Mycroft's face. "One Jim Moriarty has come in possession of this technology. Again confirmed. It is the perfect recipe for disaster. Those of you, who know me, know that I am not one for emotional displays, or exaggerations. If we do not put our suspicions and dislikes aside, and work together; we will all find out, too late, that Jim Moriarty is no one to be underestimated, or ignored."
The Russian representative frowned. He wondered how the man in front of him could know so much, as he wrestled within himself as to whether to deny, or play along.
What he did not know, what he was not aware of, was that the man in front of him knew more than he thought he did. Because of Irene Adler, and her Russian informant, and the brilliance of his little brother, the British representative already knew ninety percent of what he was about to say. Still, there were a few critical pieces of information that were missing.
Mycroft sat back and elegantly crossed his long legs, as he rested his crossed fingers on his thigh. He looked intently at the Russian, saying nothing for a few seconds. Mycroft's normal diplomatic side sat down.
The one who was referred to as, The British Government, looked at the Russia representative. His eyes held fire. His smile was sharp, it could cut glass. "It's time to share all, don't you think?"
221B
Current Day
Anthea had just left less than forty minutes ago. She would be returning in four hours. Sherlock had noticed the exhaustion that was etched on both of their faces. Mycroft, Anthea, and several agents had literally flown from England, to America, and back to England again without rest. There was a double detail of agents that surrounded the flat, as well as a police car.
Sherlock sighed with irritation as his pacing increased in speed. He was missing something. Something important; there was no time. They had located several of Moriarty's little surprises. But he was not foolish enough to think that he had discovered the entire complicated man's plots. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and squeezed slightly before letting go. It was quiet now except for the slight tapping sound of Mycroft's fingers.
The younger Holmes gave his mind a rest, as he looked around. His brother looked tired. He frowned but decided not to comment. It would not be helpful.
Everyone was gone from 221B. There were agents who were working around-the-clock in government offices in Britain, and several countries around the world. Analysis, computer and military experts, as well as weapons experts, all worked to decode and decrypt Sherlock's files. They were stationed in Mrs. Hudson's flat. Mr. Patel had arrived, and was being picked up at the airport by an agent, and escorted to the government building, which contained Mycroft's main office. He was to shadow Thomas.
Sherlock's mind traveled to those who he considered his family, as he continued to move. He had personally spoken to everyone; in person, or by mobile. He noted that Molly's voice had appeared cheerful despite her circumstances. He marveled at the fact that he could have missed the courage that was contained within such a petite size person, whom he once thought to be a mouse. Now, he realized she had the heart of a lion.
Mrs. Hudson called just to make sure that he was eating. Lestrade refused protective custody, but chose to continue to work to protect England. His mother had refused protection, and was determined to remain. Adler was determined to remain by his side no matter the danger. He knew that she would. He would do the same. His brother should be laying in a hospital bed, instead he was flying around the world in an attempt to save it. His deep dark secret was that he was proud of his brother. Even his homeless network refused to lay low for five days as instructed. they were looking for anything unusual and reporting any leads to him.
And then there was John. Always by his side, through hell or high waters, he was steady and faithful. He was proud of his family. Of course he would never admit this out loud. He would never hear the end of it, if he ever verbalized such a sugary sweet, sentimental statement. Perhaps Mycroft was not the only one who was tired.
Mycroft sat quietly, as his tired eyes shifted between his computer, and his Smartphone screen. His only break had been to take and receive phone calls. John had given up two hours ago. He had surrendered to fatigue and made his way to bed. His mother was asleep downstairs. Mrs. Hudson had generously offered unlimited use of her flat, in her absence. Adler and Agent Myers would be arriving in a few hours. Agent Thomas and several men would be arriving an hour after that.
"Sit Sherlock, your constant motion is making me dizzy," Mycroft said with a rough voice.
Sherlock ignored him and continued to pace.
Mycroft listened as the muttering started again. He sighed to himself as he continued to work.
Sherlock entered his Mind Palace after he walked over to the window. He stilled his body, as his hand moved in small synchronized motions.
Time was lost to him. Sherlock blinked several times as he exited his mind. He looked around. He suddenly noticed that he did not hear Mycroft's fingers tapping anymore.
He turned around, as he wondered if Mycroft had left while he was in his Mind Palace. It was not like his brother to not indicate when he was leaving. He looked around the room until he came to his chair. His eyebrows rose. He walked away from his chair to the couch, but returned quickly. Within a few minutes, designer shoes were removed, and a blanket was placed carefully over the British Government. Mycroft did not even stir.
He examined Mycroft's face. His brother had washed off the makeup, which had been applied over the discolorations when he returned. Sherlock scrutinized both the face and the man. He deduced every act, which would have brought the bruises about. His jaws clinched with anger.
As he was about to turn, Sherlock noticed a strand of hair that fell in his brother's face. Sherlock's fingers brushed the strand back in place. And if his fingers lingered a little longer than necessary, he pretended not to notice.
He considered sleeping in the chair opposite his brother, but decided against it. Mycroft would be embarrassed when he realized that he was watching him all night. He would pretend to get up to get tea, but check on him instead. He eyed the chair once again before turning away and walking toward his bedroom. He considered the fact that he had never known Mycroft to fall asleep unless it was planned, or scheduled.
Three Hours Later
Current Day
John yawned as he walked down the stairs to get to Mrs. Hudson's flat. He looked at the clock frowning. Six forty-five in the morning. A ring from Mycroft had awaken him. He was curious. The pleasing aroma of fresh brewed coffee became stronger the closer he got to the door of 221A. It was opened. He entered, and followed his nose, as he walked the short distance to the kitchen. He assumed that Sherlock had been up most of the night; still he assumed that Sherlock would soon be awake and fully dressed.
John trudged toward the living room after pouring himself a cup of coffee.
John heard muffled sounds from the living room as he drew closer to the living area. It sounded as if a large group was talking quietly among themselves.
"Here we go," John commented to himself.
As he exited the hallway, he noticed several agents and Yarders including Donovan, in the adjoining room. They all seem to be talking in low and whispered tones. A few looked up briefly, but returned to their work quickly. Agent Thomas looked up and gave a quick nod which was returned by John. There was a thin framed, young man beside him who he had never seen before.
John's attention was immediately drawn away again. He paused for a moment as he saw Mary Myers in the corner. He could not help the smile that lit his face. She was on her mobile. She continued to talk but sent him a warm smile and a quick wink of the eye. He noticed a slight bruise on her jaw and sighed. She silently mouthed that she was okay. He nodded his understanding and smiled back. She returned her full attention to her conversation on her mobile. John resumed walking.
He locked eyes with Sally briefly without slowing his movements. She seemed to search his eyes with question for a few seconds before turning away. He noticed that Sally had a shocked look on her face. He frowned but continued to move. He wondered if something important had been discovered.
His hair was still damp. He ignored the drop of water that fell on the neck of his jumper, as he turned into the living room. Several bodies were scattered on the couch, and chairs around the dining room table, as well is chairs that appeared to have been brought in from the kitchen. Mycroft sat in one of those chairs as his eyes silently followed John.
John walked up to Mycroft and handed him two more pills. He had hoped to be more discreet, but, he was more interested in keeping him upright. Mycroft didn't argue but immediately took the pills. He downed them with a large sip of tea. His hand immediately returned to the tip of his umbrella. That was odd, John thought, Mycroft rarely holds the umbrella while he's inside with them, unless... Mycroft, was prepared for some sort of battle.
John frowned.
"Molly is on her way," Mrs. Hudson said before looking around and shutting her mouth, as if she has said something she should not have.
Curiosity now danced with apprehension in his mind.
Alert eyes traveled around the room. Mrs. Hudson had returned. Mrs. Holmes, Lestrade, and Irene were there. John greeted everyone quickly and gave Irene a hurried kiss. Irene seemed strangely quiet. This concerned him more. There was a man, and a woman with their child, who sat in the back of the room, on the couch. Something about the child caught his attention. He briefly wondered who they were, but his focus was on Mycroft at the moment.
John looked at Mycroft as he sat cross-legged. One hand rubbed back and forth on the chair, while the other held the umbrella, if anything, more firmly.
Mycroft's behavior even for Mycroft, was odd. Now that he thought about it, everyone was acting strangely. John did not know what to do, so he wrapped his free hand around the mug of coffee, and took another slow sip, as he looked around.
John's eyes came to rest again on the child. He was sleeping on the chest of the woman in the corner. He frowned without noticing that he took a few steps closer. He stopped and looked down as his mind shifted. An impossible thought came to his mind. He almost laughed out loud. It was ridiculous. It was…
He looked again, his eyes traveled over the sleeping child.
His head snapped back to the right. "Mycroft?"
John turned toward Irene and dumbly repeated her name as well. "Irene?" She silently nodded once.
Mycroft gestured with one hand toward the chair opposite himself. John sat quietly. He did not notice when his cup of coffee was taken to prevent it from spilling.
Mycroft said nothing for a few seconds. "Your reaction has been consistent with everyone else's."
"What would make him keep something like this from me?" John wondered out loud. "We tell each other everything, why this?" John suddenly looked into Mycroft's eyes. Mycroft confirmed his suspicions.
"Oh my God." John became quiet.
He looked around the room. John stood and walked over to the sleeping child. He glanced at the woman. She stood and handed the child over. John held the child in his arms protectively.
"What's his name?" He could not help running his fingers through the child's hair. The child shifted in sleep, and pulled his forgotten thumb back into his mouth.
"William," Mycroft answered. "William Boswell Holmes."
"He is named after my father," Mrs. Holmes spoke quietly, for the first time.
He felt Lestrade beside him. "He's a cute little fellow." Lestrade touched his head softly before removing his hand.
"He has to be told," John said quietly in an attempt not to wake the sleeping child. He noticed that everyone's eyes traveled to the entrance to the hallway. That is why he was not surprised.
"I have to be told about what John?" Sherlock asked curiously. He was fully dressed and held a cup of tea in his hand.
No one said a word. His brother stood slowly and said, "Sit Sherlock."
Sherlock looked at the child. He looked at the man and the woman in the corner, married, he noted to himself. They looked from one face to another. They were all hiding something. More specifically, they were hiding something from him.
Moriarty's words came back to him, "You can feel it, can't you, my dear… Secrets, Secrets… Secrets"
Sherlock realized that his mind was shielding him from something, he took another sip of tea slowly. The warm fragrant beverage slipped easily down his throat. Piercing eyes traveled around the room deducing.
It rested back on the child. His mouth opened as his eyes widened. Sherlock swallowed as his eyes darted back and forth, deducing and calculating, before coming to a conclusion.
Sherlock placed his tea on the table. His eyes traveled to the child before he found the floor. His eyes flickered rapidly between the child and the floor, as if he were trying to form a coherent thought. John looked at him wordlessly but remained quiet as he held the child.
"Sherlock," he heard Irene start to say.
Sherlock's body became rigid. He moved his eyes only to her. The look in his eyes was so primal that it caused her to close her mouth. She, however refused to look away from his eyes. "Is there anything that you want to tell me Ms. Adler?"
Irene remained quiet. Everyone in the room eyes traveled between the two.
"No?" He asked coolly. He looked her up and down with venom.
"Well then, I'll leave you to it." He said. He turned quickly, as he headed for 221B. Within a few seconds footsteps were heard again, this time going toward the door.
Sherlock ignored several voices that had followed him to the door and was calling out for him. He felt a hand on his arm before he could open the door.
"Sherlock, let's calm down shall we, and think this through. It's too dangerous. Besides, this isn't something that you can bloody run away from. He's not an experiment gone bad." John took a moment to control his growing irritation. He imagined what must be quite a shock on anyone, much less Sherlock Holmes.
John looked into Sherlock's eyes as he spoke. "His name is William, William Boswell Holmes, and he is your…"
"Don't," Sherlock hissed as he pulled his arm free from John and opened the door.
John lost his temper. He got nose to nose with Sherlock and whispered with anger. "You can't run away. She did not make this child alone, or is this one of those neat little facts that you've deleted along with the solar system?"
Sherlock whispered back, "Watch me. I run rather fast."
"Sherlock please…" John pleaded more loudly.
"Don't follow me, I need to think," his eyes travel to Irene before he added, "Alone."
The small group had gathered in Mrs. Hudson's doorway. Mrs. Hudson, and Mrs. Holmes, put their arms around Irene, as they led her back into the apartment.
Mycroft watched without comment from the corner of the room.
"I'd like to kick his arse," Lestrade said irritably.
John hissed, "Get in line, mate."