Chapter 4

Sherlock studied the images over and over on his laptop. "Damnit," he shouted and began to pace muttering to himself. Mary watched him without comment as she cleaned her gun. Sherlock racked his brain trying to figure out the connection between the outfits that were stolen from the Little Infant of Prague. The red from Christmas, the Gold from Easter, and the everyday Green Vestments were the ones that were missing. "There must be some connection," Sherlock whispered aloud. Ever since their contact with the Rosicrucian's had been killed, Sherlock had been on edge. Then yesterday he received a text from John's phone stating he was fine and that he could not make contact until after his initiation. Sherlock felt John was in terrible danger, however, the quickest way to help John was to figure what connection the missing Vestments had with Alchemy and Transmutation.

Mary looked up at Sherlock. "Sherlock, we have contacted Mycroft, and he has told us to wait for further instructions."

Sherlock rounded on Mary. "Mycroft could care less about John. If we wait for him, it could be too late." Sherlock's voice broke, betraying his anxiety.

Mary sighed. "Sherlock, do you think you are the only person who cares for John? If we don't follow Mycroft's instructions, John could be in more danger than he already is. For that matter, we don't even know he is in danger."

Sherlock could feel anger and frustration beginning to boil inside him. He wanted to scream and pound holes into the wall. Worry about the welfare of someone else was a new sensation for Sherlock. Maybe Mycroft was right about caring not being an advantage, after all he never felt this way until he started to care about John. "Care, hell, I'm in love with my Doctor." Sherlock mused. "No, caring is an advantage, Mycroft was wrong." Sherlock reflected as he began to scan his mind palace for the special place he reserved for his memories of John. Sherlock's chest began to feel tight, for in his mind palace John was there. Angry John, passionate John, brave John, John Hamish Watson, you are my love and I will find you with or without Mary and Mycroft's help. I will take on Hades itself to redeem you.

"Sherlock, Sherlock, SHERLOCK." Mary raised her voice in effort to catch Sherlock's attention.

Sherlock spun around. "What?" he snapped.

Mary sighed, "I just got a text from Mycroft, he's downstairs." Mary scrolled down further. "He says that we need to pack. He wants to put us in a safe house."

Sherlock whipped his head around to glare at Mary. "If Mycroft is taking us to a safe house, then John is in danger."

Sherlock and Mary packed quickly packed their things and ran downstairs to meet Mycroft. As, Mycroft came forward to meet them, he looked stressed. "Come on I'll update you in the car." Sherlock studied his brother's face and he knew that something had gone terribly wrong. Once they were in the car Mycroft took out a cigarette and lit up, he then reached in his pocket and handed one to Sherlock. He also held out a cigarette towards Mary. "Mary, would you like a cigarette?"

Mary shook her head. Both she and Sherlock waited for Mycroft to speak. Mycroft took a long drag on his cigarette. "As you know the contact that you were supposed to meet was shot. We found the other contact Sherwin, nailed to the front door of the Church of Our Lady Victorious, he had been tortured and his heart had been burned out." Mycroft took another long drag on cigarette. "We can't extract John that would only draw attention to the objective of the mission."

Sherlock leaned forward and grabbed Mycroft's wrist. "Fuck the mission; we need to get John out now."

Mycroft jerked his wrist free from Sherlock's grasp. "There is a lot more at stake, than your precious John, little brother. The safest action you can take for John is to get to the bottom of the mystery, which you won't be able to do if you let passion rule your head. Sherlock, get your head in the game. Solve the puzzle." Mycroft leaned back against the seat, he looked exhausted. No one said a word until they were in the safe house. The safe house was actually similar to Baker Street, except that downstairs was occupied by a security team, no Speedy's Café and no Mrs. Hudson. The safe house living quarters were located upstairs and Sherlock felt homesick as the wooden steps creaked under his weight. "Just like Baker Street," he thought. The living space was upstairs, it was sparsely decorated with two chairs and a table in the living room, the kitchen was a small nook off of the main room. Even though the room seemed empty it still reflected a hint of its formal elegance, through the floor length windows, and the ornate carved border around the ceiling. Without a word, Sherlock sat down and opened up his laptop. He studied the pictures of the vestments of the Little Infant, there had to be some sort of pattern besides the obvious one. "There has to be a pattern to these vestments, it is more than just a simple theft for the value, it must have something to do with the order. What, what is it?" Sherlock said as he began to pace the room. Sherlock's pacing reminded Mycroft of a caged lion he and Sherlock had seen at the zoo when they were children. Sherlock had stood outside the cage watching the lion, tears streaming down his childish plump cheeks.

Their mother had asked Sherlock what was wrong and Mycroft never forgot Sherlock's answer. "The Lion is alone and bored, he can't think."

Sherlock sat down and pounded the keys of his laptop. "What is it? Where is the pattern?"

Mycroft sighed. "Sherlock, I'm going to need you thinking straight, so that you can examine Sherwin's body. Mary, I am going to need you to interview the handler that had the last contact with Sherwin."

A Secret Morgue somewhere in Prague

Sherlock circled the table that Sherwin's body lay on. He examined the cuts that covered the body; however, it was the empty chest cavity that drew Sherlock's attention. There were strange looking burns around the chest cavity that Sherlock had never seen before. He bent closer, ignoring the smell of chemicals that assailed his nostrils. If was if the cut had been made by a laser, yet Sherlock had never seen a laser that made such perfect incisions. Sherlock bent down and smelled the area around Sherwin's mouth. "Just as I thought," Sherlock mused aloud. "The cuts on the body were made post mortem, due to the fact that they bled so heavily. However, it was not the cuts that killed Sherwin; he was drugged when the chest cavity was operated on. However, he was still alive when the heart was taken, due to the fact the aorta are fully open, which suggests that the blood was still flowing through them when the heart was removed. The man was drugged and then bled to death after the heart was cut away. However, I am not sure what kind of scalpel was used to do the surgery." Sherlock's mind was going a thousand miles per hour and for a moment he forgot the worry that was threatening to overtake him. What could have made that incision? Sherlock looked over at Mycroft. "Where are the items that were found on the body?" Mycroft came back a few minutes with a clear bag. Sherlock rifled through the contents of the bag. A wallet, nail clippers, pocket change, a money clip, and two iPhones. "Why two?" Sherlock asked to no one in particular. Sherlock turned the first phone on, it was locked. He then picked up the other phone and his whole heat sank so fast Sherlock felt dizzy. The other phone was John's. Sherlock looked over at Mycroft, trying to control his panicked expression. "This phone is John's," Sherlock whispered as he held up the phone. Sherlock put his hand up to his mouth like he always did when heavily stressed, as he wildly looked around the room, then his eye focused on a medical science poster. "Oh, my God, that's the pattern," Sherlock said as he pointed to the poster.