References to suicide, murder and sexual abuse.

Chapter Twenty Nine

Robinson manhandled Sherlock through the Groom's Door, into Moran's presence and held him in place, by one arm and the back of his jacket.

'Alright, Robinson, you can go. Hawkins, you stay. Over there.' Moran indicated, with a movement of his head, where Hawkins should stand.

Robinson gave Sherlock a final shove, in the small of his back, and left the room. Sherlock staggered forward but regained his composure quickly, shrugged his jacket back into place on his shoulders and brushed some imaginary lint from his lapels, as Hawkins took up his position, in the corner of the room.

'Mr Holmes, please sit down,' Moran gestured toward a chair that matched his own. 'Can I offer you anything? A brandy, perhaps?'

'Yes, thank you,' Sherlock replied, unfastening the bottom button on his jacket and taking the seat.

Moran took two brandy balloons from the cabinet to his right and poured two measures of Tesseron Vintage brandy, offering one to his guest and taking the other himself. He settled back in his seat and swirled the spirit in the glass, eyeing Sherlock with an expression of mild amusement, waiting for the detective to open the batting.

Sherlock sniffed the amber liquid, rolling the glass between the palms of his hands to release the aroma, then took a small sip and said,

'Why Arthur?'

Moran looked moderately surprised but answered,

'Isn't that obvious?'

'Not to me,' Sherlock replied.

'Well, your brother obviously thinks highly of the man. He's willing to pay for his education and he recently asked him to be his…husband? I'm not terribly sure of the correct terminology, gay marriage being such a recent phenomenon.'

'And, on that evidence you decided…what? That Arthur was the most important person in my brother's life?'

'Well, obviously not as important as his children but, Mr Holmes, really! Even I would not kidnap children!'

'No? It wouldn't be the first time, surely?'

'That was not my idea. I was merely following orders.'

'Well, either way, you clearly don't know my brother very well.'

'And do you intend to enlighten me, or just sit there, looking smug and drinking my sixty year old brandy?'

Sherlock took another sip of the Tesseron and said,

'My brother is a man of discerning taste and Arthur is a very special person – unique, even, in my opinion. But Mycroft is cursed with a very short attention span. Right now, I'm sure he imagines himself to be in love with Arthur and is, more than likely, beside himself with worry about his welfare but, if Arthur were to die – today, tomorrow, next month – Mycroft would be upset, initially, but he would recover.'

A pause for another sip of brandy, then,

'You see, my brother thinks of his fellow humans as…goldfish. Arthur is probably a very special kind of goldfish but a goldfish, none the less, and therefore easily replaced. So, if you think you can use Arthur as leverage against my brother then, I'm afraid, you are barking up the wrong tree…or fishing in the wrong pond, or whatever.'

'So, what are you suggesting? Shall I just have Hawkins, here, go and shoot him and his feisty sister, right now?'

'Well, you could. But if you did, you would lose the best chance you have of hitting the Iceman exactly where it hurts.'

'And where might that be?' Moran asked, his bland expression beginning to tighten up around the mouth and eyes, at Sherlock's dismissive arrogance.

'The only human being that my brother really cares about – apart from his children, as we have already established – is me. I'm the only non-goldfish in his life and it would damage him irreparably if anything were to happen to me.'

'I find that hard to believe. After all, he sent you off round the world for three years, taking down my old boss's empire. He didn't seem very concerned for your welfare, then.'

'That was a calculated risk and he always made sure I was very well-supported. I was never in any real danger,' Sherlock lied, with perfect equanimity.

'I'm not convinced, Mr Holmes. You're going to have to do a lot better than that.'

'Look here, Mycroft is singularly self-obsessed. When Arthur disappeared, he was immediately convinced that this was aimed at him.'

'Well, it was.'

'Yes, but he ignored the Northern Connection. He wasn't even prepared to give it house room. That's why I came to Stalybridge. I came because I really do care about Arthur.'

'What? You have the hots for your brother's boyfriend? That must make for a cosy Christmas Dinner!'

'Colonel Moran, I'm a married man!' Sherlock retorted, in mock outrage. 'But I knew Arthur before my brother did. I suppose I introduced them. And I would not wish for anything bad to happen to him. If that were to occur, I would withdraw my co-operation and, as previously stated, you would lose your best shot at Mr Minor Official and all his British Government cronies.'

'Are you offering me a deal, Mr Holmes?'

'I suppose I am.'

'And what are your terms and conditions?'

'I will assist you in your efforts to bring down my brother and the British Government in return for you letting Arthur and his sister go free, unharmed.'

'And why would you do that?' Moran sneered, sceptically.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed, for added effect.

'I'm sure you are aware that there is no love lost between me and my brother – not on my side, at least. We have never seen eye to eye. He has an annoying habit of always wanting to run my life and stop me doing the things I really want to do. He achieves this by retaining control of my endowment, even now, when I'm married with a young family to support. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to see my brother publicly humiliated.'

Moran looked singularly unconvinced.

'Why should I believe you? How do I know you won't renege on your agreement, as soon as I let Arthur and his sister go?'

Sherlock pursed his lips and wrinkled his brow, as though giving this question serious consideration.

'Tell me what you had in mind for Arthur.'

'Mr Holmes, do you think I'm an idiot? Why should I tell you anything?'

'Fine, don't tell me. You go ahead with your little plan and don't say I didn't warn you when Mycroft just laughs in your face.'

Sherlock sat back in his chair, with a petulant shrug and sipped his brandy some more.

Moran was in a quandary. He did not trust this man at all but he was aware of the long-standing feud between the Holmes brothers and he also believed that Sherlock's testimony would be far more damning that that of Arthur, if he could obtain it.

'Suppose I do accept your offer to work with me against your brother, what assurances can you give me that you won't withdraw your co-operation as soon as I let the other two go?'

'Well, you'll still have me in your clutches, won't you? If I don't play ball, you can always kill me. And, believe me, Colonel, I have absolutely no desire to die.'

Moran was thinking. They had the film which appeared to show Mycroft Holmes sexually abusing his own brother. If he could back this up with a public statement by the brother himself that this was in fact true, what a devastating effect that would have on not only the Iceman but the elected Government of Britain! If the great British public believed that the architect of Westminster's response to the latest historical sex abuse scandal was an abuser himself, how disastrous would that be?

His plans for Arthur had been simple. Destabilise him with drugs and depravation, show him evidence of his lover's infidelity and depravity, video him denouncing his former lover and then push him off the roof of the hospital, the very hospital where he had volunteered as a school boy - a suitably personalised place to which one might return, in despair, in order to end one's life.

But with Sherlock in the starring role, how much more powerful a message might that send to the populace, already disenchanted with the old guard? And if the price for his co-operation was the safe return of Arthur and the young woman, surely that was of small consideration. Having to accommodate three hostages was a burden and killing the other two would alienate the very members of the public they were hoping to influence.

Moran looked across at the other man. Holmes was savouring his drink, with a sort of detached boredom that the Colonel found all too familiar. It was so reminiscent of Jim Moriarty, as to be painful. And he was thus reminded why he so needed to destroy Mycroft Holmes – politically, professionally, personally, psychologically. Yes, he would accept the offer made by this spoilt brat of a man, sitting opposite him, and once his purpose had been served, he would kill him anyway, and send his body back to his brother, one piece at a time.

Sherlock noticed that he was being observed and returned Moran's gaze.

'Mr Holmes, you have a deal,' the Colonel declared, offering his hand.

'I will require irrefutable evidence that Arthur and Josie have been returned, safe and sound, to their family or the deal is off.'

'What would you consider that to be?'

'Skype.'

'I beg your pardon?'

'I will speak to them on Skype, so I can verify by their surroundings that they are at home, and they will tell me themselves that they are safe and unhurt.'

'I suppose that can be arranged,' Moran confirmed.

'and I will know, if they are being coerced, believe me.'

Moran nodded.

Sherlock took his hand and gave it a firm shake.

The Colonel got up and opened an access door to the driver's cab, where he addressed the man riding shotgun.

Where are we?' he asked.

'Peak District National Park, sir,' came the reply.

'Be more precise,' he demanded.

'On the A635, just south of Wessenden Head, just approaching the junction with the Wessenden Head Road,' the man corrected himself.

'Perfect. Pull over.'

As the horse box slowed to a stop, Moran crossed the Groom's Hole and opened the Groom's Door. Robinson jumped out of the Audi, at the appearance of his commander, and listened attentively to his orders.

'Get the boyfriend and his sister out of the car,' Moran instructed, opening the side door of the horse box and stepping down onto the road. 'Bring them to me,' he added.

Robinson went back round the car and opened the passenger door on Arthur's side. He reached in and pulled Arthur out by his arm.

Josie hung on to her brother's other arm, terrified that they were to be separated.

'Get her out, too,' Robinson barked at Josie's guard.

The other man dragged Josie out and the two siblings were bundled out of the side door and down onto the road. Josie looked around. They were in the middle of nowhere, somewhere high up on the moor, on a bare, two lane highway, the only light coming from the headlamps of the horse box and the big, bright moon, in the western sky.

Josie caught hold of Arthur's arm again, trying to control the rising panic, wondering what fate these men had in store for them. The Big Cheese was staring at them, but she could not see his features well enough, in the dark, to gauge his expression. Her gaze kept sliding to the man with the gun and her heart pounded in her chest.

'Well, Miss Brocklehurst, may I say it has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance. You are a woman after my own heart and, I feel, under different circumstances, we could have been good friends but, c'est la vie.'

He looked around at the stark, barren land scape.

'I'm afraid this is where we must part company…'

'No!' Josie screeched, wrapping her arms around Arthur's upper body, in an attempt to shield him from the bullets that she expected to start flying, at any moment.

'Well, I can't say I'm not surprised. I would have thought you'ld be glad to see the back of us. However, places to go, people to see. Goodbye, Miss Brocklehurst and do, please, give my regards to your brother when he eventually regains his senses.'

The guard kept his assault rifle trained on the brother and sister while Moran and Robinson climbed back into the horse box, then he reversed over to the side door and climbed in himself. The door closed, the engine picked up and the horse box drew away, into the night.

Stunned by this completely unexpected change of circumstance, Josie stood gaping at the retreating tail lights of the getaway vehicle then she came, suddenly, to a full understanding of the situation and screamed,

'Sherlock!'

ooOoo