Reference made to torture and non-consensual drug abuse.

Chapter Thirty One

Anthea closed her phone.

'We need to go to the main building. Agent Richmond will take us to the hospital.'

She and Dr Watson walked briskly down the path together and arrived at the main entrance to the hospital just as Mycroft and Richmond came outside. They all climbed into the agent's car, with John in the front passenger seat, Mycroft and Anthea sitting in the back.

'So, pardon my ignorance, but who exactly is this Colonel Moran?' John asked.

'He was Moriarty's secret weapon,' Mycroft explained. 'He was an officer in the British Army, working in Special Ops. Made quite a name for himself during the invasion of Iraq. He was a sniper, by profession, excellent shot. His men came to refer to him as 'the colonel' and the title stuck but he never actually achieved that rank, officially. When he left the service, he was recruited by Moriarty, who kept him for special occasions – tricky jobs, that required a certain degree of audacity, which was and is Moran's signature quality.'

'OK. So how did he manage to escape the pogrom, when Sherlock and your lot were dismantling Moriarty's organisation and neutralising all his operatives?' John asked, quite reasonably.

'Well, so far as we were aware, he didn't,' Anthea took up the narrative. 'Moran was actually Sherlock's last assignment for that operation. Our people had tracked Moran to Pecs, in Hungary, and we had been monitoring his activities, there. He had established himself as a primary importer/exporter of illegal drugs.

It had come to our attention that there was a particular restaurant that Moran frequented, usually after hours, so we set up a meeting between him and Sherlock – or rather his alter ego, Lars Sigerson, the representative of a consortium who specialised in sourcing and importing Class A drugs, direct from the producers, in this case, the poppy farmers of Afghanistan.

Prior to the date and time of the meeting, our people gained access to the restaurant, posing as regular customers, and planted a number of explosive devices. On the night of the meeting, a few moments after Moran entered the building after it closed, when there were no ordinary members of the public present, the explosives were detonated by remote control.

It had been rigged to look like a gas explosion and to ensure that the entire building was gutted – demolished, in fact. After the conflagration had been doused, the remains of four bodies were found in the rubble – they were identified as the chef, two henchmen and Moran himself. So, as far as we were concerned, Moran had been terminated.'

'So the chef didn't count as a member of the public?'

'Collateral damage, Dr Watson,' Anthea replied. 'Unfortunate but unavoidable.'

'Well, no wonder Sherlock was so shocked when he saw the man alive,' John exclaimed.

'No, John,' Mycroft interjected. 'I don't doubt he was surprised but I doubt he was as shocked as he made out.'

'Mycroft, trust me, I saw him and he was stupefied!' John insisted.

'That's what he would have wanted you and everyone else present to think,' Mycroft replied. 'but I believe that when he became aware that Moran was leading the operation, it was a game changer. For him, the main objective became the eradication of Moran. And, in order to achieve that, he had to go wherever Moran went. He had to be taken prisoner.'

'So you think he let them take him on purpose?' John snorted.

'No, I don't think, I know he did. He would also know that, whatever use Moran had in mind for Arthur, it would most definitely end in his demise. So, he had to create an opportunity to make a bargain for Arthur's – and, of course, his sister's - freedom. Offering himself as an alternative would be the best option available.'

'But Moran already had him - and the other two! So why would he need to make a deal?' John argued.

'I have no idea,' Mycroft replied. 'But, whatever it was he needed, Sherlock obviously deduced it because it worked. He let Arthur and Josie go.'

John could not argue with the logic of that. He did feel a little miffed that he had been taken in by his friend's acting skills, yet again, but there were more pressing issues to address.

'Er, Mycroft, speaking of Arthur, I think I should warn you, he's in a bit of a state.'

Mycroft looked away for a moment then said,

'Please elaborate, Dr Watson.'

'Well, I'm sure you are aware of the sort of methods these so-called Reparation Therapists use in order to affect their 'conversions'.'

'I am…acquainted with their methods, yes.'

'Well, Arthur was really not himself. I think he'd been drugged, certainly tortured and there was a television in the room with an inbuilt DVD player and no cable or satellite feed, so I can only assume they had been showing him DVD's of some sort or another, presumably whilst under the influence of the drugs. And he did have a rather bizarre reaction to Sherlock.'

'Please explain, doctor,' Mycroft prompted.

'Well, he was fine with me but when I told him Sherlock was there, he went a bit crazy. He jumped off the bed and told Sherlock not to touch him or even look at him. Said something about him being 'contaminated'. When Sherlock tried to reason with him, he called him 'corrupted' and said he'd seen it, whatever 'it' was. I told Sherlock to back off and spoke to Arthur myself and, again, he was fine with me. But he said something really strange. He said,

'…he lied to me. He cheated. He used me and…the children!' And then he said, 'We have to save them. We must!'

I was trying to get him out of that place so I told him I would help him save the children and he was keen to come with me, but then Moran showed up and it all went pear-shaped.'

As John finished relating his version of events, Mycroft looked extremely pensive and made no response. Moments later, the vehicle in which they were riding turned into the driveway to the Tameside Hospital and the time for talking was over.

ooOoo

Once inside the Reception Area of the A and E department, Agent Richmond approached the book-in desk, on behalf of the party. He showed the Receptionist his ID and explained that the people with him needed to speak urgently with the man and woman who had been found on the moors. The Receptionist rang through to the Treatment Area and was given the go-ahead to admit them.

They passed through the security door and were met, on the other side, by a Nurse Practitioner who introduced himself as Robert. He checked Richmond's ID, again, then said,

'You can certainly speak to the young lady. She is not too badly off and is alert and lucid. The young man, however, is not so good. He's currently in the Emergency Room, being treated by one of our Trauma specialists.'

John sneaked a glance at Mycroft to see how he was taking this news but his face remained impassive and the Nurse Practitioner led them between two rows of curtained treatment cubicles until they came to the one that contained Josie.

She was reclining on a treatment couch and a uniformed WPC, sitting on a chair beside her, stood up when they walked in but Agent Richmond showed her his ID, too, and asked her to wait outside the cubicle.

As soon as Josie saw John, she shot upright and said,

'Oh, John! 'E saved us! 'E traded 'imself for us! I don't know what 'e said to that man, bu' 'e persuaded 'im to le' us go an' then they took 'im away wi' 'em!'

John hurried to her side and took her hand, employing his best bedside manner to sooth and calm her.

'It's OK, Josie, we know. We know what he did.'

''Ow do you know? Why? 'Ave they let 'im go, too?'

'No, no, they haven't let him go. He sent a text, telling us that he had made a deal, that you and Arthur had been freed and that we should come and get you. And we were able to find your location from the mobile phone signal – the masts that picked up and relayed the text. That's how we found you.'

'Oh, so that's wha' t' policeman meant. I see,' she murmured. 'I wondered 'ow they found us so quickly. We weren't there much more th'n an hour.'

Josie then noticed the other people standing behind John. She looked from one to the other and her eyes settled on Mycroft.

'Oo are these people?' she asked.

'Oh,' John exclaimed, as though he had only just remembered that the others were there, too. 'This is Mycroft, Arthur's fiancé and Sherlock's brother. And this is Anthea, his PA and…'

He petered out, there, because it was obvious that Josie was no longer listening. She was staring at Mycroft, looking rather bemused, as though he wasn't exactly what she had been expecting.

He ignored her reaction and stepped forward, offering his hand.

'Miss Brocklehurst, I'm delighted to make your acquaintance, though one would have preferred that the circumstances had been different.'

Josie took his hand, automatically, but said nothing.

Mycroft released her hand and tuned to Agent Richmond.

'Please take a statement from Miss Brocklehurst. Endeavour to obtain as much information as possible to advise us in our search for my brother and his abductors. Dr Watson, please assist in that, if you wouldn't mind.'

He then turned to the Nurse Practitioner and said,

'I wish to see my fiancé.'

The man called Robert was about to give a negative response but there was something about the almost pleading look in the eye of this man who, quite obviously, never pleaded for anything that changed his shake of the head into a nod and he led Mycroft and Anthea from the Treatment Area, through some double doors, to a Family Room.

'Please take a seat, Mr..?'

'Holmes,' said Mycroft.

'Mr Holmes. I will go and speak to the doctor on duty. I won't be a moment.'

Mycroft and Anthea sat down and then Anthea got up again and went to the nearby vending machine, returning with two Styrofoam cups of black coffee. She handed one to Mycroft, who sniffed it, grimaced, but then decided to drink it anyway.

After about fifteen minutes, the door opened and a man in scrubs entered the room. He looked from Mycroft to Anthea then addressed the latter, offering his hand.

'Miss Holmes? I believe you are Mr Brocklehurst's fiancé?'

'No,' Mycroft interjected. 'I am Mr Brocklehurst's fiancé, Mr Holmes. This is Miss Smith, my PA.'

The doctor looked embarrassed but soon recovered, apologised for his faux pas and addressed the correct person.

'Mr Holmes, we were advised by the police that there is a news blackout on the circumstances of your fiancé's abduction and they have refused to share any information with me or my staff.'

Mycroft nodded.

'As you must understand, that makes it rather difficult to make decisions about his treatment.'

Mycroft nodded, again.

'Do you have any information you can give me that might help me in the treatment of my patient?'

Mycroft nodded yet again and said,

'He was abducted for the purpose of being treated for homosexuality by a Reparation Therapist.'

The doctor gave a nod of understanding.

'Well, that makes more sense of everything,' he replied. 'He has a number of different traumas.'

'Could you be more specific, doctor?' Mycroft asked.

'I can but I must warn you, it will not be pleasant to hear.'

'I understand that. Please elaborate.'

The doctor proceeded to describe Arthur's various traumas, including the beatings, the poisoning, the cocktail of different drugs that he had been tricked into ingesting and the hypothermia, caused by his abandonment on the moor.

'He hasn't spoken since he arrived here but his sister says he's not himself. She seems to think they 'messed with his head', if you will pardon the expression. Some of the drugs he has been given might well account for his confusion and delusional - even paranoid – perception.'

That certainly fitted with what John had already disclosed.

'Is he conscious?' Mycroft enquired.

'Yes, but rather withdrawn. As I say, he hasn't spoken at all since he arrived.'

'May I see him?' Mycroft asked.

'Yes, but do be aware that he may not respond to you.'

Mycroft nodded and, rising from his seat, followed the doctor out of the Family Room.

ooOoo