A/N Rated M for swearing, adult themes.
Spoiler Alert. I make references to events from The Great Game.
Credits: For quotes and timelines, I borrowed from the fantastic transcript of The Great Game provided by Ariane DeVere
The Obligatory safety notice:
As always, do not read fanfic while imbibing tea, lattes and especially icy cold frappuccinos (accidentally snorting a frappuccino can result in iced nasal passages AND a simultaneous brain freeze which hurts like the dickens. Also it would waste your tasty, over-priced frappuccino.)
Acronyms
MOD- minder of the day, used by Mycroft's agents to denote the lucky agent(s) assigned to protect Sherlock Holmes.
ISS-International Space Station
*#*#*-is supposed to look like fireworks.
All errors are my own.
Mrs. Hudson and John persuaded me (nicely) to take responsibility for my errors. They sat me down with tea and biscuits and showed me the error of my ways. Sherlock of course wasn't nice about it. He immediately resorted to threats. He threatened to upset my sock index, which was rather an empty threat since I don't have a sock index. Heck, I own very few socks, since his last set of experiments.
And what exactly is a sock index anyway? Socks sorted by color or date of purchase? Or is the index a list, actually printed out on a card or something? I would really like to know what a sock index is, and would it make a good Christmas present for my dad? Because he is really hard to shop for, and it's never too early to start shopping for next Christmas.
It's a bit late in the game but I should remind you that I'm not British (WOW, no one has guessed that by now, right?). And this fic is not Brit-picked (Again, no one's noticed, right? Am I right? Or not.)
However, I will happily accept corrections or advice re British-speak vs. American-speak. Also, please let me know if you spot other errors (grammatical, spelling, typos, or otherwise). Seriously, please let me know about any errors so that I can fix them. Thank you.
And thank you for reading my fic.
Oh yeah, I suppose I should stop wasting your time with endless author's notes and actually post Chapter 49.
So without further ado….
*#*#*Chapter 49*#*#*
John limped into the conference room closely followed by Oscar Morrison; they were nearly ten minutes late. Lestrade gave them each a friendly nod, while Mycroft glared coldly at them. The woman sometimes known as Anthea, never even looked up from her phone, which was quite normal.
"How nice of you to join us, Doctor Watson," drawled Mycroft, with a pained and patently insincere grin. "And Mister Morrison."
"I'm sorry we're late, Sir." apologized Oscar. "It's entirely my fault. It took me longer than expected to return here, after I dropped your brother off at his flat."
"Yes. Quite," said the British Government. "And I'm sure that it took some time to convince Doctor Watson to leave his room since he has been so very busy in it today."
"Did you have a nice sulk, John?" asked Mycroft, still wearing his barracuda smile, which accessorized well with Mycroft's charcoal-grey, hand-tailored suit.
John felt an angry half-smile forming. Actually, he felt like throttling the so-called minor government official, but somehow the doctor restrained himself. Secretly, John was rather proud that he was able to resist his homicidal urges.
Greg frowned at his partner but was prevented from making any protest, when Mycroft held up his hand to imperiously demand silence.
Mycroft smirked at everyone gathered at the table and began, "I am pleased to announce that my brother is now in possession of the missing missile plans, which he proposes to use as bait to attract Moriarty."
"As most of you know, Moriarty wants these plans to sell to other interested parties. Sherlock and I believe that the so-called games were a distraction from Moriarty's search for the plans. No one in their right mind would plan such elaborate crimes just to attract the attention of Sherlock…"
"Moriarty isn't in his right mind," John reminded him.
"Yes, but still as a matter of policy…"
"I don't pretend to understand Jim's motivations," said John, interrupting again. "but I'm pretty sure he wouldn't hesitate to commit any number of crimes just to…what was it he said…just to make Sherlock dance? See, he's insane. He does crazy things...'cause he's insane."
"Yes. Well, thank you for your insight, John. And John, please remember that you are only here as at my brother's request…"
"At your brother's insistence," corrected John. "which was based on my insistence to him, because I want to see Sherlock walk out of all of this alive."
The evil Emperor Mycroft, ruler of the known universe and the free world glared at the scarred veteran who was once a Jedi…John reined in his unruly thoughts and concentrated on glaring back, although it was a shame that he couldn't throttle Mycroft with the force.
Undaunted, John glared up at the tall man from under his lowered brows.
"Regardless," said Mycroft. He was not put off by John's dark scowl. However, John had spoken the truth, and Mycroft could lose Sherlock's coöperation if he rejected John's participation, so Mycroft relented just a bit, "Regardless of the reasons, you are here, John. And I appreciate your input," lied the British government. His smile had sent more than one general into a hasty retreat, however John held his position. "Now, I would also prefer not to be interrupted as I provide the background for our policy and discuss…
John huffed and immediately went on the offensive by interrupting, "I think we all know the score. You and your mad brother think Moriarty will be enticed by the offer of the missile defense plans. You and Sherlock want to lure him in with the plans as bait. Oh yeah, and Sherlock too-he's the rest of the bait. And after their little tete a tete, you're gonna let him go scot-free, because you think Sherlock and your agents will be able to follow Jim around to get more 'data' on his activities. You think this will work because your agents will be able to tag the cars with more tracking devices, to put the bell on the cats as it were," John raised his hands in surrender, before the Emperor Mycroft could interject. "No, it's fine, I won't raise my objections yet again, because I know it won't change a thing. Never mind the jamming devices that are going to make the trackers unreliable and never mind the risk to Sherlock and never mind that more innocent people will suffer or even die as long as that demon Moriarty is on the loose."
Mycroft raised his brows as John reiterated his major objections after promising not to.
"Let's just assume that you're right," said John bitterly, "We'll just assume that you'll be able to track a mad genius like Jim and that you'll gain a treasure trove of information and that it will be worth all the suffering."
John lowered his brows in a challenging glare and continued, "I think that's enough background. And I know you don't want my 'input'. Your policy has been decided. The confrontation is going to happen. But…you and your brother promised that you'd allow agents to back him up. My, uhh...your agents are ready to provide that back up. They're ready to protect Sherlock. So what I want to know, what your agents need to know, is the where and the when. So, Mister Holmes…where and when will this meeting between the Two Great Geniuses of London occur. Because we'll need to get our team in place…"
"Ah, about this team," said Mycroft slipping his words in like the accomplished diplomat that he was. "Sherlock is concerned that too many agents may disrupt our plan. And I must concur. We will allow only one agent to be present in the pool area…"
"The pool? The pool where it all started with Carl Powers?" muttered John, shaking his head. "That's fitting, I suppose, considering the obsession your brother has with that madman Mori-…
"Never mind that!" snapped Lestrade. "Mycroft, you and your brother did agree to protection. You both agreed that we'd have multiple agents safeguarding Sherlock," protested Greg Lestrade, his face reddening with anger.
"Change of plans," said Mycroft simply. "There will be one agent in the pool area and one in the halls outside the pool. In addition, no one will accompany my brother to the meeting. He must appear to be defenseless…"
"He will be defenseless!" yelled Lestrade, who looked expectantly at John. However, the blond just sat, staring into space and breathing slowly and deeply. Lestrade shook his head in frustration. "This is gonna be a suicide mission both for Sherlock and the poor sod who's in there to protect him."
"I strongly disagree, Gregory," said the British Government. "We feel that as long as Sherlock does not present a threat, Moriarty will, for lack of better words, want to continue playing his games with Sherlock. He's the one who is obviously obsessed with my brother, and it's possible he'll come to trust Sherlock…"
"Oh bloody hell, they're obsessed with each other," interrupted the former army captain. "But I have to respectfully point out, that you and Sherlock are both idiots if you think James Moriarty will trust Sherlock or anyone else, unless they've been brainwashed by that madman first," said John, ignoring Mycroft's look of outrage "I keep telling you; Jim is crazy. He's paranoid, and he doesn't trust anyone who hasn't been reconditioned first."
"Sherlock is a genius and would be highly resistant to such…conditioning," said Mycroft confidently. "But I trust it won't come down to that…"
"You use that word trust a lot, Mycroft," said John, frowning up at Mycroft through dark lashes. "I wish you wouldn't, because I don't think you or your brother have any understanding of what it means."
John held his hand up as both Mycroft and Lestrade began to talk at the same time.
"No. Don't interrupt me, Mycroft. And Greg, you're right, of course, but it's no use arguing. They've made up their overly intelligent minds. I admit it is possible that Jim will let Sherlock walk away. We can hope so. Unfortunately, Jim might decide to kidnap Sherlock instead. However, I think it's even more likely that Moriarty will try to kill Sherlock tonight. Actually, he'll probably order Sebastian or one of his other goons to do it, because he doesn't like getting his hands dirty."
"Jesus, John," complained Lestrade. "You sound awfully cold-blooded about all this."
"Greg, maybe the guns haven't started firing yet, but the battle's already started," said John harshly. "Oh come on, detective inspector. You can't tell me that you're not cold-blooded yourself, once you and your team are in action. Am I right?"
Greg pinched the bridge of his nose before conceding the point with a nod.
For just one moment, Anthea stopped texting and looked up first at the detective inspector and then the army captain. John caught her eye, flashing her a tight, blood-thirsty grin.
"Alright, let's stop wasting time. Anthea or Medea or whatever your name is today," said John. "Who did you and your boss select for the two agents inside the building?"
"Clancy in the pool arena because he's demonstrated his skills in marksmanship and Oscar in the halls because of his all around talents," said Mycroft, jumping in before she could answer.
"You should have chosen me for the pool," said John softly. "I'm the best gunman you have."
"And, as for the timing…" began Mycroft.
"I repeat, I'm your best gunman," John said loudly. Then he sighed at Mycroft's hard, cold stare. "But… if that's a no-go, I want Christine posted in the pool area, and Clancy'll patrol the halls."
"Now wait a minute…" protested Oscar, his face becoming thunderous.
"Yeah! And what about me?" demanded Lestrade.
"You are not going in there, Gregory. You are not trained…" said Mycroft.
"Everyone shut it!" snapped Captain Watson. "I'm tired of wasting time. I'm guessing we don't have much time before Sherlock makes his move. Am I right?"
John was met with silence and another raised brow from the ginger-headed politician.
"Yeah, that's what I thought," said John nodding. "Look, Greg, we're going with your plan. You designed it. Hell, we even had the pool pegged as one of the possible meeting sites. We've trained for the pool."
"You're the one who guessed it might be the pool, John," said Oscar speaking up again.
"Well, that doesn't matter," said John smiling shyly at the huge bodyguard. Mycroft noted this interaction for future reference. "As I was saying, Greg," continued the little blond soldier, "this is basically your plan, even if there'll be fewer agents on the inside. That makes you the general. And the general stays off the frontlines ready to deploy his forces when the shite hits the fan."
"That's true, but we'll want the best agents on the inside, and that includes me," growled Oscar.
Lestrade and Mycroft began trying to speak over the burly agent, and John slammed his hands on the table. "Will you all just listen. Greg, you have to be in charge. When this all goes pear-shaped, and I can promise you that it will, someone has to give the right orders at the right time, yeah? And I don't trust anyone in that role but you. And you gotta be on the outside to give orders 'cause a) I guarantee you the phones won't be working and b) you can't see the whole picture when you're blanketed by the fog of battle." John added with a wry smile, "And c) as you yourself noted a couple days ago, you are by far the best possible choice to liaison, when the police become involved."
"We do not want the police involved," murmured Mycroft.
"Of course we don't want them involved," said John turning his dark scowl on the British Government. "But there's always the chance that someone'll hear the gunshots and…"
"Maybe there won't be any gunshots," said Oscar unhappily.
"And suppressors might help…"
"Oh for God's sake, no one can guarantee that there won't be an exchange of gunfire and the bloody suppressors only muffle the sound a bit, it'll still be damn loud. And then too, ricochets make noise: metal rings when it's struck, cement explodes and glass shatters. Then too, sooner or later someone who's been shot'll probably start screaming…"
"I doubt it will come to that," said Mycroft repressively. "Obviously, the goal is no gunfire, and we shall endeavor to keep the police away from this rendezvous at all costs," said Mycroft. "However, John's basic reasoning is sound, Gregory. You will do the most good, by remaining outside of the pool complex."
"And you, Oscar, you are in charge my...of Mycroft's teams," added John. "Which means you have to be outside of the complex and away from Moriarty's jamming device too. Bloody hell, Oscar, we've been over all of this at least a dozen times." John and Oscar's eyes locked, until Oscar finally looked away as he ruffled his short hair viciously.
"All right, John, have it your way," sighed Oscar, looking at the detective inspector.
"Yeah, I agree too," said Lestrade giving John and Oscar a hard look. "So, Christine'll be at the pool and Clancy''ll be in the halls for backup."
Mycroft's eyebrow tried to climb up his forehead as everyone, even Anthea, ignored him in favor of the disabled blond soldier, who was supposedly relegated to the sidelines.
"Well, if everything is arranged to John Watson's satisfaction?" said Mycroft acerbically. He did not appreciate deferring to anyone, especially a former army captain who…
"Now as to the timing…" suggested John.
"Yes, well," interrupted the British Government, re-taking command of the meeting. He rolled his shoulders, as if to settle ruffled feathers. "in approximately two hours, my brother will offer up the Bruce-Partington plans via his little website. He will suggest a meeting at the pool at midnight tonight."
"Bloody Hell! Tonight?" snapped John his blue eyes wide. "We have two bloody hours before he goes online? I knew it! I just bloody knew it'd be a rush job on top of everything else!" His hand rose to tug at his lip again.
"Maybe Sherlock could hold off sending the message 'till tomorrow?" suggested Greg Lestrade, who looked as outraged as the former army doctor.
"No," said Mycroft, as if simply denying a child their request to stay up late.
"Bloody hell!" repeated the former soldier, staring into nothing again.
"We feel that it is necessary to keep up the pace of the game," said Mycroft with his air of superiority. "After all we want to hold Moriarty's interest, hmm?"
"Bloody hell," said John, who was reduced to repetition.
"John, I thought you and Greg would approve of an early meeting, especially since it should prevent the final hostage-taking, which Moriarty undoubtedly has planned for his fifth puzzle. Think of the life or lives saved," suggested the glib politician.
"Bloody…" Began the blond doctor.
"John, we can do it," said Oscar, "We've been planning and training for weeks. It's just a matter of adjusting plan C-squared to fit fewer operatives in theater, right?"
The tall bodyguard leaned over and gripped John's shoulder. The shorter man reached up and briefly laid his hand over Oscars, before muttering unintelligibly under his breath. Mycroft sneered at the gesture, wondering whether to inform Sherlock now or whether to hold onto this touching incident as a negotiating chip.
John looked up at Oscar and then over to Lestrade, who once more nodded his reluctant agreement.
"Right. You are absolutely right, Oscar," said John. "We can do it, because we have to do it."
"Ours is not to reason why…" began the agent.
"Ours is but to do or die," finished John with a faint, rather predatory smile.
"If we are finished with the maudlin histrionics and bad poetry recitations…" began the British Government only to be interrupted yet again by the ex-captain.
"Right, Once more unto the breech, dear friends..." said John, looking at Mycroft with raised brows. Then he turned toward the detective inspector, "Greg can you call up the layout of the sports complex again? Blueprints would be best. I'll need to be…to have…I'll want Christine positioned with a clear view of the entire pool deck. She'll especially need a clear line of sight to where ever Sebastian posts himself and his backup snipers."
"I can send those to your laptop, detective inspector," said the lovely and very helpful woman with no name. Greg nodded.
"Oscar, the whole sodding team has to be in place before HE posts his bloody invite for that devil's spawn on his bloody Science of Deduction web site," said Captain Watson, rubbing his forehead, "Christ, you'll need to move out as soon as possible, no later than 45 minutes from now. We have to get Clancy and Christine ready at once. Thank God the equipment is ready in the armory and…"
"I will need to speak with both of our inside agents before they depart," demanded Mycroft, softly but firmly. "In fact, I should speak to everyone."
"Fine. Oscar call them all down here right now!" barked the captain. Then he glared at Mycroft. "Say what ever you have to say quickly. You get five minutes tops, and then let 'em go. They need time to prepare," John stood to leave, "And once they are ready to go, I don't want them interrupted for any more complex and confusing instructions or a misguided pep-talk. Is that understood, Mycroft Holmes? They need to concentrate on the mission from here on out." John glared fiercely from under his dark lashes.
John got as far as the doorway before Mycroft called after him. "John, I realize that it is difficult for you to not be involved in the action. I realize that…"
"I realize that you realize less than you think you do and don't realize what I realize…" Everyone in the room, including the army doctor, frowned as they tried to interpret John's statement. Mycroft's brows lowered as he decided that the statement was an insult to his intelligence, which was not to be borne.
However, before the de facto leader of the free world (and Emperor of the heretofore undeclared galactic empire) could protest, John continued, "Look I get it," said the blond, "I am not needed or included in this action. And I do not want to talk about it…I suppose you'll be going along to monitor the situation, Mister Holmes?"
"Actually, I had planned on monitoring the situation from an inconspicuous van…"
"Yeah, I thought so," said John, snarling his lip again. "You can go and I can't. Makes bloody good sense to me. Y'know what? Fine. Observe all you want. Just don't plan on giving orders to your agents once the meeting is taking place, because like I told you before, Jim likes to use jamming devices and no one will be getting any signals in or out of there. You'll just have to put your trust in the men and women going into battle."
Captain John Watson, leaned wearily against the door, resting his bad leg leg. "Look, you could do me one favor, Mycroft, since my special phone for idiots won't let me call out," said John softly, "Tell Sherlock, 'Good Luck' for me. Tell him…tell him to be careful…Right," said Captain Watson sharply, and he stood up straight. "Greg, Oscar, I'll be in the armory. Send Chris and Clancy there as soon as they finish with Mister Holmes. After that, I'll be in my room. Maybe I'll try blogging about my newest recipe for risotto, and then there's this new book I've been meaning to read. If you need me, text me, but do not come and visit me. 'Cause obviously I'll be very busy keeping busy."
"John, I'll keep you posted," said Lestrade.
"Yeah, you do that," snapped John bitterly. Then he bit off a terse, "Thanks mate."
Swinging his right leg wide and leaning heavily on his cane, the former soldier marched off, head held high and whistling the theme song from The Bridge over the River Kwai.
Mycroft, tall, slim and coolly authoritative, stood in front of the gathered agents in the break room. Mycroft refused to call it a mess hall. Only one person besides John would remain in the bunker, he informed them all. The youngest agent, Derek had been 'volunteered' to stay with John. Derek would also man the ersatz control center although the real control center would travel with Anthea and Mycroft Holmes. Derek leaned against the back wall, sulking just as bad as John Watson.
Mycroft informed the assembled agents that Moriarty was to be interviewed by Sherlock and then Moriarty was to depart unscathed. No one, and here Mycroft fixed Christine and Clancy with a sharp glance, no one was to shoot Moriarty or his henchmen, unless Sherlock was in imminent danger of death. Even then, Moriarty and his lieutenant were to be wounded and not killed.
Christine winked one of her heavily made up eyes at Clancy. Mycroft wondered if there was something going on between the two agents, especially after she smiled cheekily with her plum-painted lips. Dear Lord, these sorts of high jinks never occurred before John Watson arrived.
Unsuccessfully hiding his moue of distaste, Mycroft continued his briefing. He added that when Sherlock was distracting Moriarty, the agents not tasked as MOD's would tag Moriarty's vehicles with new, state-of-the-art tracking devices. The unharmed criminal mastermind and his associates would leave the natatorium...
Mycroft was interrupted when BJ raised his hand, to ask what a natatorium was. The minor government official frowned and proceeded with his prepared remarks as Paula whispered into BJ's ear. The idiot BJ then said 'Ohhhh,' very loudly. Several agents whispered among themselves like ill-behaved school children. Mycroft frowned harder and continued his speech.
John poked his head in the door, scowling as usual. Irritatingly, the men and women stood to attention, and then Gregory, the erstaz commander of this operation, politely but firmly interrupted Mycroft's briefing so that the agents could make their preparations. Presumably, Mycroft thought to himself, the little martinet called John Watson would accompany the team members to the armory or the barracks to assist the agents as they donned their uniforms and armed themselves. No doubt the little blond upstart would be free to give out his salutary advice the entire time.
In less than twenty minutes, Greg, who was overseeing plan C-square, notified Mycroft that the first team was departing now. The British government scoffed at the childish name of the plan. No doubt that Watson had cleverly named the operation in honor of Clancy and Christine.
Mycroft sent a courtesy text to John to inform him that the first team was set to leave.
John's answered swiftly.
Will you please allow me come too? John Watson
Not possible. Will you come out to bid your friends farewell? MH
No, but thank you. John Watson
Sulking ill becomes you. This is your last chance before they leave. MH
Thank you, but no. John Watson
I presume that you have at least responded to my brother's text? It's the first time that he's mentioned you to me all day, but if you wait much longer, he will be too busy to deal with you. MH
Yes, I have already wished Mr. Holmes 'Good Luck'. John Watson
Good luck? Mycroft sighed and slipped his mobile back into his pocket. John Watson was sulking like a child, thought the British Government, but for once, at least the soldier was polite and his texting did show marked improvement in spelling and grammar.
Still, it was no wonder that he and Sherlock got along so well, since they were both childish…but then again, perhaps they were not getting along quite so well.
What with Sherlock's jealous fits and his inevitable boredom coupled with John's need for attention and his willful insistence on befriending Sherlock's rival aka the ox...Well, perhaps the bloom was already off the rose. Perhaps Sherlock and John had already tired of one another, just as Mycroft had predicted from the very beginning.
Certainly, John seemed more concerned about being left out, then about Sherlock. And today, Sherlock had sent only one text to Mycroft which concerned John Watson and that one did not even demand that John be kept safe.
Perhaps, soon, maybe even after tonight, Mycroft could rid himself of the very annoying former army captain, by sending him into a witness protection program…preferably overseas. The U.S.A. might be a good spot for one John Watson.
The British Government dismissed the former army captain from his mind. There were more important things to deal with now.
Mycroft left his office so that he could honor his black clad agents when they passed by on their way to the lift.
Mycroft was annoyed to note that most of the lights in the main hall were malfunctioning again. No doubt John Watson had staged another short, impromptu Combat Sim this morning, impromptu because Mycroft had not received any memos regarding such an exercise today.
Possibly, America was too close for Watson's new residence and relations with Britain's American allies had been tense of late without the added burden of John Watson set loose somewhere across the pond.
Upon further reflection, New Zealand might be a better choice for Watson's exile.
As tempting as the base in Antarctica was, the isolated station was ill-equipped to deal with the likes of the troublesome little soldier. Ditto the ISS…
Mycroft heard the first team approaching. The British Government returned his thoughts to the men and women who were willing to risk their lives for England. Well, Mycroft and Sherlock both agreed that the risks were small, vanishingly small. Still, there was always some risk in these operations, and his agents deserved his full attention. Most especially tonight's MOD's, the two agents who would be in the building to protect his younger brother.
Clancy was easy to spot; he was tall and lean with ropey muscles, rather like Sherlock, and why in God's name was Clancy smirking? Perhaps he was pleased that he would be the man on the inside? Surely Mycroft's agents had never vied for the dubious honor of MOD before.
Mycroft could barely see Christine. At five foot six inches, she was all but hidden by the taller agents who surrounded her.
Her smaller stature did not deter her. The brief glimpses of her showed that she marched just as determinedly as any of the others. She too, wore a smirk on her plum-colored lips. Indeed, she almost swaggered, her hips swinging from side to side, despite the body armor and straps and guns. All of that combat paraphernalia made the stocky woman look rather heavier than before.. However Oscar, of all people, didn't seem to mind, as his gaze was fixed on Christine's swaying hips.
Really, once this was over, Mycroft was going to have to talk to his agents about propriety and the need to avoid personal entanglements while on the job. Indeed, the politician would have to single out Agent Morrison about the man's suddenly out-of-control libido. Perhaps… he should consider sending Morrison into exile with Watson…that is to say into the witness protection program. Yes, that could be arranged and would provide an elegant solution to two problems. Two birds with one stone...or was it two birds in a bush...Watson's ridiculous chatter had infected Mycroft's finely tuned brain.
Mycroft inadvertently frowned as Gregory, Clancy, Christine and five other agents crowded onto the lift, followed by the ox… that is to say, Oscar Morrison. Gregory met Mycroft's eyes and nodded at Mycroft.
They exchanged very brief, forced smiles as the lift doors shut.
Mycroft reminded himself that the risk of danger was low and that his partner would face almost no risk from his position outside the complex. Indeed, Mycroft had quietly assigned two agents to act as Gregory's MOD's for the duration. Yes, Gregory would be quite safe.
Twenty minutes and eleven texts later, Anthea touched his elbow, silently asking if he was ready to depart as well. He nodded to her. Paula and a second agent, who had been recalled from Berlin, escorted Mycroft and his PA to the lift.
Mycroft recalled Gregory's outline for tonight's operation. Gregory called it an outline because he insisted that no battle could be scripted. Obviously, the military reference was just another example of Watson's bad influence on people. The sooner the ex-captain was on his way to New Zealand, the better.
Mycroft and his team headed towards the waiting Vauxhall corsa. The car looked tiny to the politician, who was used to limousines. However, the black corsa, which was heavily reinforced and boasted bullet resistant glass, would blend in better than a limo. The third team had already assembled in the second van, waiting to accompany the British Government to a safe location near the natatorium, where Carl Powers had died so many years ago.
By this time, Oscar would have installed Christine in the pool area itself. Apparently, the woman planned to secrete herself in amongst the steel beams of the ceiling. According to Gregory, Christine was agile and could climb and rappel like a Chinese bird spider. Mycroft had not had an opportunity to ask his partner what exactly a Chinese bird spider was…well, that was of no importance just now.
Things were running smoothly. All of Mycroft's agents would be in place before Sherlock sent out his invitation and before Moriarty's henchman began to creep into the sports complex (henchmen if John's wild exaggerations were to be credited). Time would tell.
The principal players would not arrive for another two and a half hours.
Sherlock predicted that Moriarty would posture for the consulting detective, hopefully revealing hints about the Irishman's future plans. They might or might not plan another meeting. Moriarty would certainly take the memory stick, which contained the missile defense plans. No doubt the wily criminal would copy the data before discarding the memory stick, mistakenly thinking that it was bugged or trackable.
Mycroft allowed himself a small smile. Moriarty would suspect the memory stick and not his own vehicles.
Mycroft was satisfied. The operation was well-planned and low risk and held a high probability of success. In a matter of weeks, or months at the latest, they would have enough data to corner the awful Irishman and all of his awful cronies. It would be a relief for the minor government official to officially return to his minor government post.
Hopefully, James Moriarty would be brought in before Sherlock became too enamored of the criminal genius. In the privacy of his car, the politician allowed himself another tiny frown, as they waited for Gregory's signal.
He was concerned, as always, about his brother. It had not escaped Mycroft's notice that Sherlock enjoyed the criminal genius's puzzles. It only made sense that Sherlock would be attracted to another genius rather than that relatively ordinary and not very intelligent army doctor.
Still, it was too bad that Sherlock had grown tired of the little soldier quite so quickly. Even though John Watson had many undesirable traits, he was a much better person than James Moriarty. Ah, well, Sherlock will no doubt quickly lose interest in James, just as he had lost interest in John.
Mycroft remained unusually pensive, as the corsa sped through nighttime London. Still, all in all, things were proceeding apace. Once again, things would fall out just as Mycroft had arranged. It was so predictable, it was almost dull.
A/N While we are finally switching to high-speed internet at my house, the installation itself is NOT high-speed. So I have a few more days before my e-mail gets messed up, and so I posted this chapter a few days early. I'd like to think of it as a Fourth of July present, even though this has nothing to do with July Fourth celebrations in the USA. Still, I suppose I can think of it anyway I want. (Insert your own pictures of the American flag, parades, picnics or fireworks here) (Or not) *#*#*
Seriously, thank you to everyone who has kept up with this very long fic.
Thank you for reading, following or favoriting this fic. You've made me so happy! Please have some virtual blueberry muffins on me. (What? It's berry season and I love blueberry muffins. I mean scones are good too but I just like muffins better.) (And blueberry muffins are as American as mom's apple pie...July Fourth, remember?) *#*#*
Thank you so much to those who have sent me reviews. I owe you so much, virtual cakes in addition to the blueberry muffins at the very least! Thank you for the recent reviews from: kmyzbtcc, 107602, dana-san, JC Black, Quiet Time and (just under the proverbial wire) Wing of Darkness! (Insert more fireworks here. *#*#* Really big ones. *#*#*#* To celebrate reviews!) ;D
Disclaimer-I must confess that I do not own the rights to Sherlock, John or any characters from ACD's Sherlock or BBC's Sherlock.
Oh well, perhaps I own these rights in some alternate universe? That would be awesome! :D
*#*#* HAPPY FOURTH OF JULY TO EVERYONE WHO COMMEMORATES THE SIGNING OF THE DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE IN PHILADELPHIA IN 1776 *#*#*
TO EVERYONE ELSE, HAVE A NICE DAY AND SEE YOU SOON (hopefully) WITH CHAPTER 50 :D