Chapter 14: And Desperate Wars~
The New York Armada came sweeping in off the streets, like a flock of angry ravens, come to devour the fallen beast.
"Terrorist." was the word passing up through the ranks of the NYPD. Sherlock had made his presence known before Mycroft could get to them, and had caused quite an uproar on the streets of Manhattan.
"Excuse me, general!" Mycroft cried, from somewhere across Riverside Park.
Police Chief Morgan Honors stood gaping up in horror at 20 notorious Crips, with their hair standing on end from partial electrocution, wrapped in Christmas lights. All of their criminal operations, for the last 10 years, had been solved, physical evidence such as notes, and phones with the pictures still on them, and actual bags full of illegal substances were littered on the ground beneath their feet, just for anybody to walk by and gawk at.
Within 3 hours New York City had been turned upside down, and all of their gangs bloody shirts and smoke stained laundry was lying just for passer by to see ,on the lawn in Riverside Park.
"Look who the Devil dug up!" Honors cried, with a low whistle. "Sandy Blanchard. We've been looking for you for 7 years, kid. So how is it that you show up hanging off the bridge today. Beginning to look a lot like Christmas ,boy!" the other cops started to laugh.
"It was Sherlock Holmes ,sir. And I'll answer any questions you have, come in without any fuss...I'm more afraid of that guy, and those guys he's crossed swords with than I am the entire United States Supreme Court."
"Oh, is that so? Yes, we've already heard others like you report that citing that terrorist this afternoon. Well rest assured, we're under orders to fire on him upon sight. We'd just like to know if you have any idea what he's here for!"
"Chief Honors!" Mycroft shouted.
All eyes turned to see him, as he came striding across the lawn, like a panther up from the shadows.
"Excuse me, don't think we've met? Also ,this is a crime scene. I'm going to have to ask you to leave, quietly. Don't want to make a scene do we?"
"I'm afraid my brother has already done that for me ,sir. "Mycroft gasped, with a bit of an indignant air at being treated like a civilian.
"Your brother?"
"I am Mycroft Holmes, an official in the security of the United Kingdom. You may not be aware but my brother, Sherlock Holmes, the only extant consulting detective, is my personal consultant in dealing with criminal activity that exceeds the capabilities and jurisdiction of the layman police officer, such as yourself, sir. I was hasting on my way to inform you of the nature of his current mission, but it seems as though America does not operate under so strict policies of protocol as we do in my country. Sir,I would advise you to send word up the chain of command that Sherlock Holmes is -shocking as it may seem-not a hostile, and should not be fired upon. As a matter of severe fact, his elimination could start a World War."
The police chief blanched. "What...are you trying to tell me, Mr. Holmes?"
Just then Greg Lestrade came running up behind them, dressed now in normal clothes, his wife hand cuffed to him. Sally Donovan came running up, a mobile phone lit up in her hand.
"Mycroft!" she cried, "Anderson has sent you a voice mail. It turns out Sherlock was right about Appledore, about all of it! And its worse-far worse, than anybody dared believe!"
Mycroft turned to her, brows drawn tightly. The police chief was shaking his head. Greg took opportunity,and reached and shook his hand.
"Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade, New Scotland Yard, at your service ,sir. Sherlock is my consultant on more run-of-the mill business,and I'll be happy to give you the crash course on how to work with him. Basically he's pretty easy to work with-does most of the hard work for you and all-you just have to resist the urge to punch him, ...rather frequently."
"Yeah-right. World Wars-personal consultants- Appledore end of the world something and-WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!"
Everyone paused trying to catch their breath, some of them looking not so certain themselves. Mycroft cleared his throat.
"Chief Honors...when you became the police chief of the whole of New York City, I am right in assuming, that you had to do a great many required tests and studies on the fields of different illegal drugs floating about the Metropolis, is this correct?"
"Well, yeah, I mean it'd be crazy not to know that! What does that got to do with anything?!"
"How much , if anything, do you know about Serum 51?"
The Police Chief turned green around the gills.
"Oh...my God..."
Mycroft swallowed, "The thief that broke into Area 51 and stole the ingredients that would make up the serum? The same thief that was reported sighted in Cancun? If I am right, then there would have been a warning from higher up sent to all the U.S major cities to prepare for a full-scale drug-induced terrorist attack. Am I wrong in assuming this?"
" No. You are right. But still...what is going on, Mr. Holmes? What does all of this have to do with your brother?
Mycroft seemed suddenly agitated, as if he was trying to keep the ice of his demeanor from thinning around a hot and grievous offence he has recently received.
"Only that I must require it of you not to eliminate the man that is responsible for diverting that would-be terrorist attack. Sherlock was investigating the notorious self-appointed King of the World Wide Mafia, James Moriarty at the time this thief broke out of Area 51. My people sent Sherlock to Mexico to locate the thief's whereabouts, and to solve the criminal intent behind his actions. Our people lost surveillance of this doomed mission when my brother arrived in Cancun. We only recovered him afterwards, when he made his way somehow to Guadalajara. He later reported that he had "tricked" the thief into revealing his intentions, and we were able to neutralize the current problem. The man was intending to cause an epidemic of what is called Hyper Induced Sclerosis, a drug-induced disease that renders the tissue egg shell like,making it very susceptible to breakage like bones. He tested it on my brother, and proved that it would indeed be possible. And thus would have rendered the full-scale populace of the United States, a "porcelain doll"people. We were able to release a chemical derived at one of our own military test sites called Baskerville, that would chemically react with the drug he intended to release, and so render it benign. We left off pursuing the Area 51 thief because he had stolen chemicals that were confidential to US security,and our meddling would have been a breach of confidence to this information, and so could potentially cause a war between us. It was for this reason, and also because my brother believed that he had killed the thief, (who is sometimes in gang circles referred to as "The Exterminator" for his skills in harvesting super-toxins) whilst he was attempting to escape him, that he we left off pursuit of him at that time.
What my brother did not tell me at that time, because it would have compromised the security of the United Kingdom, as well as my life, and the lives of others of our personal contacts, was that the Exterminator had been making deals with a rogue MI6 assassin, and influential member of the feminist cult "Pandora" , known to us by the alias of "Mary Morstan", for their mutual gain of confidential information, locked away by technique, within my brother's mind. The stolen drugs from the American base were mixed together into a potion known by the name of the "Akhlys Serum".
So it was that my brother actually had not "tricked" the thief into revealing his intentions, but had rather made deals with him,and with the assassin that had devised so devious a plot,to play a sort of contest of skill sets for this confidential information. It has served the purpose of diverting these mentioned acts of terrorism and murder of those he loves,but it came to him with a price. What you witness in your city today, is that price...
The assassin returned yesterday afternoon,and injected the Akhyls serum directly into my brother's heart. Many hours have passed since then, and 33 hours remain before the poison reaches its full potency, what is known by toxin-mixers as the "Akhlys Hour." My brother has and will have moments of lucidity and moments of sheer madness leading up to this hour of truth, as you may call it. His lucid moments have been hyper aware, and, as the nature of my brother's skill set works, he thus has been able to solve the criminal activity that has plagued your city for going on 10 years, in a matter of 3 hours. That should tell you two things, 1) the extremity of my brother's abilities, and 2) the nature of the poison that he is under.
If we do not act in a means to accommodate my brother's exploits, in his poison weakened state , we run the risk of forfeiting information of security to one of the most notorious psychopaths the world has ever been misfortunate enough to harbor, as well as the clever assassin that is his puppet, though she herself is unaware of it. What is more this Exterminator, known in the public sector by the alias of Charles Augustus Magnusson, has entrenched himself in media, and has taken his accrued information of confidence,and mentally, (and possibly in a physical storage file as well) stock-piled it, to use in ultimate blackmail. If we don't assist my brother in his mission,we run the risk of being responsible for World War 3...These are the facts, Chief Honors...Now,...what are we going to do about them?"
Honors stood blinking for a moment, trying to process all that he was hearing.
"Sounds like we're going to War, Mr. Holmes. A street war, a desperate one...But it's either Manhattan or our battlefield is the World...I choose Manhattan, maybe because this is home."
And with that he started shouting orders to his men on a megaphone.
"I would like to speak to you privately ,Sergeant, about Anderson's message." Mycroft gasped, taking Sally aside.