A/N hello again. Sadly we´re reaching the end of the story, after this chapter there´s one more left. Emma will tell her Story and we´ll take a look at the near future...Very special thanks to AngryHobbit, Raeya and Astrido. Appreciate your feedback a lot.

The small caravan consisting Sherlock, Carys and John, moved back into Mycroft's private rooms. Mr. Porter stood there, like ordered and not picked up and still couldn´t explain where to or why the highly respected member Mycroft Holmes vanished. A discreet search was already underway, he didn´t want to scare anyone.

Sherlock put Carys on the floor bend on his knees für her. "So, my little girl, now tell me, how did you get into the kitchen?"

The front door was closed. Sherlock figured out at once, his girl was still too small to reach the handle. She didn´t use a resource, Mycroft would have noticed that with certainty, despite the call.
Carys nodded and went straight to the secret door. She pressed an ornament on the baseboard. Completely silent, the door in the wall opened.
"Clever girl," John murmured appreciatively. "Mr. Porter? Wonder if you have some flashlights for us?"
Porter nodded and appeared a few minutes later with the desired. "Where does this passage lead?" Sherlock wanted to know. "Frankly, it is not only one passage, Sir. It is a real labyrinth, if I may say so. The first owner of this house, a Mr. Simpson Carlyle ... . "

"Also known as 'sticky Fingers'," added Sherlock. The man had been one of England's most wanted burglars in the 18th century and had been also very eccentric, obviously. "Exactly, Mr. Holmes. There are no plans of this maze, also not every room has access. Your brother might be anywhere, Mr. Holmes."
Sherlock nodded. "Let's go."
"Um, you want to take Carys along? We do not know what awaits us there, Sherlock."
The consulting detective thought for a moment, John was right. He would never forgive himself if his little girl got hurt, through his own fault. "I think Mrs. Bridges is happy to jump in again."

oOo

Mycroft awoke in total darkness. His head hurt, not to mention his other extremities. He swore loudly and sat up. The suit was ruined for sure, he thought angrily. He patted his pockets, for the lighter. Actually, Mycroft didn´t smoke anymore, but old habits were laid badly, so he still had his lighter. Luckily, Mycroft thought. He looked around, as best he could. Above his head he saw some kind of flap. Apparently the one, he had fallen through. The room might have had a height of about 2 meters, maybe a bit more. It was difficult to find orientation only by the glow of the lighter. He stood on tiptoe and he hardly reached the door. Not even close, how Mycroft noted frustrated. He swore again. He looked around, maybe there was something like a box, to use it to... "Holy Lord!" Mycroft hardly believed his eyes, in the left corner was a skeleton. He fervently hoped, Sherlock wasn´t mad at him, because he lost Carys. But Mycroft knew his bother. He was going to look for him, even if it was only for kicking his butt.

"Hello, my good man," he said to his already faded fellow, "I just hope, I won´t keep you company that long."

oOo

"Not very tingly in here, Sherlock." John fumbled behind his friend. Sherlock chuckled, "I'm sure Mycroft´s suit got dirty, he hates it."
They had very quickly discovered the door, Carys had slipped through into the kitchen. The little girl waved as she recognized her father and John. "Papa hungry?" She asked, handing him one half of her banana. Sherlock smiled. "Thank you, sweetheart. But John and I still have to look for My, you know? So you have to remain with Mrs. Bridges." Carys nodded, "Papa and John looking for My."
"Then fresh to work," John muttered, pulling Sherlock back into the dark passage. "What now, right or left?" John wanted to know, when the path forked.
"Left", Sherlock decided.
"Just like that, or is there something?" John blurted out, regretting it immediately again. Of course, Sherlock didn´t choose a direction just for fun.
"John, John, John. Maybe you had to eat this banana. Calcium. Good for the brain. Do you see the remains of the spider's web? I don´t think, there´s that much traffic around here. Must have been Mycroft. Moron. How far did he go? Carys isn´t a long distance runner, she´s a little girl. For God´s sake. Mycroft! Mycroft! Answer me, brother! "

Nothing ...

"Oh well." Sherlock snorted and they moved on. Porter didn´t exaggerate, it was a labyrinth of corridors and doors. They ended up in the library, which was now empty, in a storage room, the room of a house servant, another store-room ...
"Mycroft!" Sherlock shouted again, he had to be somewhere, his brother wouldn´t have the decency to vanish into thin air.

oOo

Emma, meanwhile, was horrified in her empty apartment. She had crept upstairs, very careful, she desperately needed some fresh clothing. "Good God," she whispered, what had happened here merely? Where did her clothes and her furniture go? Did O'Donnell vacate the apartment? Emma sobbed, now she had nothing.

"I thought I heard something!", O `Donnell snapped, he suddenly appeared behind her.

"What were you thinking, sending me that bashers? They hit me!"

"Which bashers? I dunno, what you´re talking about? Tell me where my stuff is! You had no right to vacate the apartment, you dirtbag! You´ll get your damn money, I just need some time."
"I didn´t vacate your apartment, bitch. Your friend, that basher did. And you don´t owe me any money. And don´t tell me again, you don´t know them, they knew you. A tall one and his fighting-dwarf. Got me a black eye and a broken rib, that bastard!"

Emma took a step back, O'Donnell looked really struck. Was Sherlock looking after her? The description from her landlord fitted. Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. She knew from the internet, he was a private investigator, so it might be. But why should he vacate her apartment?
"He had your brat and he has also taken care of your debts. So get lost! You're no longer welcome here." O `Donnell pushed Emma out of the apartment.

Emma was still speechless when she was back on the street. Why had he done that, paid her debts? Emma began to cry, the man barely knew her and Carys, but he cared.

Was everything turning out well, in the end?

Emma was sure he had no sexual interest in her, just like O'Donnell. Her impression was rather that he and his colleague were not only colleagues. Emma did not mind, on the contrary. It made him human and sympathetic. Emma decided to dare to trust him and John Watson. She never wanted to be a burden for anyone and take care of her business herself, but Emma finally realized, this was not always possible. She squared her shoulders and went on towards the tube. She also wanted see Carys again. She seemed to feel comfortable with Sherlock Holmes and his friend. Emma was still sure, she was missing her mom.

oOo

John and Sherlock still wandered through the hidden corridors of the club. By a hair Sherlock met at a bar. He checked with the flashlight and ran his fingers over the edge. "Blood, John."
"Mycroft! Where the hell are you!?"

The elder Holmes flinched in his dungeon. He was a little spaced out, probably a concussion, suspected Mycroft. Was anyone there? Or had he only dreamed that someone called his name?
"I'm here! HELP, whoever it might be!"
"Mycroft?"
"Sherlock!"
"Mycroft, damn it! Where are you?"
"There is a flap, Sherlock. In the soil. I fell through."
"All right, we will find you."

John and Sherlock looked around carefully and also reached the landing, Mycroft fell down.

"Careful," John said, who discovered the flap at first. It took a while until John and Sherlock found the mechanism. With a clunk, the trapdoor opened. Mycroft took a deep breath, as two flashlights were aimed at him.

"Oh thank God. I thought I would spend my last days here below. Maybe you should not pick me up, Sherlock. Carys...I lost her."
"She´s sitting in the kitchen with Mrs. Bridges, eating apple-pie, Mycroft. So don´t be an idiot. John, can you hold me?"
"As tight, as I can, Sherlock. That should you be clear to you, by now.", John stated seriously.
Sherlock smiled and decided that Mycroft deserved some more minutes down there. He turned to John and put his arms around him. "I know, John. ... And it ... for ..."

John put his finger on Sherlock´s lips. "We're talking at home, Sherlock. But I feel exactly the same." Their lips met in a deep kiss.

"Um? John? Sherlock? I do not want to jostle, but could someone get me out of here, please?"