By the time I reached the steps of Parliament, it had started to drizzle a bit, and I pulled my coat tighter against myself. I called for Colonel Guendolyn on the cab ride over, but had only gotten as far as his PA, who kindly let me know that the colonel was engaged in a meeting but could speak with me afterward. Of course, there was still an hour left until the meeting was scheduled to end, and even the scheduled end wasn't always met.

I took a seat in the hall outside his commitee-room, drumming my fingers against my legs and trying to prepare what I was going to tell him. It was a bit difficult, especially regarding how close I was to the case myself. Macie and I had been through more shit than I'd like to say, and, now, imagining her in danger? It was painful.

I racked my memory for any possible leads, but I was one of the people who discouraged her little missionary escapades in the first place. It was frustrating to know that I had warned her about this very situation years ago, but it was now, after she'd built a life, that she was dealing with the reprocussions. She was only trying to help people. Who would want to hurt her for doing that?

And what did Sholto have to do with any of this? He was friends with me, not necessarily with her. At least, that's what I saw. I had assumed that after my deportation things continued on in the camp in the same way they had always gone, but maybe I was wrong. I hoped not, but maybe Sholto was involved. Maybe there was something there, something I never noticed. Oh, but the thought of it made me sick. I didn't know why - I should've moved past it by now. But it made me a bit grievous.

I had to stop thinking about it. What time was it, anyway? I glanced down at my watch: three thirty-seven. I'd been sitting in that hall for an hour-and-a-half. Dammit. An hour-and-a-half, wasted.

Soon, to my luck, the doors opened, and out came Colonel Guendolyn. He was flanked by several other men with crisp suits and expensive phones, looking serious and particularly uninterested in me. I stood up and joining the passing group as they started down the hall, struggling to push myself closer to Franklin. I tried to ignore the men's conversation, but little words like "war" and "cost cuts" caught on my ears. Franklin waved them off and shooed them away whenever they came too close, remarking something about politics.

I broke through to the front of the line and reached out to touch Franklin's arm. He whipped around as if he were suddenly very offended, but as soon he realized who I was, his expression went soft.

"Is that John?" He asked, beaming my direction.

"Hello, colonel," I said, offering my hand.

"It's good to see you, son." He took my hand and nudged me gently from the group. He then scowled at the other men. "I already told you, this debate is over. I have more important things than the lot of you. The next meeting is at seven o'clock, sharp. We'll finish there."

The men complained at first, but, under the heat of Franklin's glare, they bowed out and scampered from the hall. Within a minute or so, he and I were left standing in the light of the rain-streaked window.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" Franklin said, chuckling. "A few months, yeah?"

"Yes, since January." I nodded. "You look like you're doing well."

"I am, I am. And you, too. Put on a few more pounds since last I saw you."

"Yeah, a few."

"Good for you." He patted my shoulder. "How's your mother doing?"

"She's getting by."

"I'm sure it must be hard for her, losing your father so quickly. She broke my heart at the funeral, her speech had me sobbing."

I nodded. "It was painful for all of us."

"Bless her heart. But, on to better things." He motioned for me to walk with him. "We'll head on down to my office. Rachel told me you had something important to talk to me about. Is there something you need? Haven't gotten yourself into trouble, have you?"

"No, nothing like that. It's not particularly about me."

He raised his eyebrow. "Is it that fiancé of yours? Wedding plans yet?"

"No, not that either."

"Then, what?"

I paused, taking a little breath. "Jahandar Dali came to my flat this morning, from Wales."

"Jahandar? Who is that?" I could see that as soon as he said it, he remembered. "Oh. That's the boy from Afghanistan, isn't it. He came to your flat? Why?"

"He told us that Macie had gone missing."

Franklin made a disappointed sort of noise. We turned a corner into an elevator, and while he pressed the key, I cleared my throat and continued.

"Macie had known that she was in danger, before she disappeared. She gave Jandi instructions to search out Major James Sholto. However, he wasn't able to reach him, and came to me instead. He's a bit worked up about it."

"I don't doubt that." Franklin nodded. "I would be."

"He didn't want to go to law enforcement, but I thought I could go to you. Is there any way I could get you to keep this quiet, for now?"

"Of course. I know the meaning of privacy," He nodded. "But, if Macie is really missing, that's a problem for the police, not a Parliament representative."

"There's a chance that she could have been kidnapped by members of an Afghan cartel," I said, quietly.

He hummed, folding his hands behind his back. "That changes things."

The elevator came to a stop, and Franklin led me down another hallway into his slice of Parliament. Rain pecked at the windows, and umbrellas began to dot the street below us, bobbing up and down along the roadway as cabs and buses pushed past. He opened the door for me, and we were greeted by his PA, seated behind her desk. He ushered me farther, behind a frosted half-wall and into his personal space, where stood tall bookshelves and a long oak-wood desk. He walked around to take his seat, and I took mine across from him, settling down into the chair and stretching out my leg.

"Don't worry about Rachel, she's signed plenty of confidentiality papers," He assured, first of all.

"Oh, that's fine. I assumed." I nodded.

"Yes. Well, John, I'll have to admit, this isn't really a shocking thing. You know that as well as I do."

"I think so."

"Macie knew what she was getting into when she went into that town. I tried to stop her - plenty of people did. We all knew what could happen if she was discovered. But she didn't care, for one reason or another. If she got herself mixed up with the wrong sort of people, the wrong sort of work, there isn't much I can do for her now."

"There's nothing?"

"I'm very limited."

"But, if-"

"The war is ending, John. The Americans are pulling out, and the elections are coming up fast. This is not the time for fighting, this is the time to let the Afghans have their country back. We can't be sending in teams now, it could turn into too much."

"Macie's life could be in danger."

"As the result of her own choices."

"So, because it's her fault, you won't help?"

"John, listen to me." Franklin leaned forward, folding his hands on his desk. "Things are tense right now. There's all kinds of chaos in Afghanistan. Sending in a team would be like throwing gasoline on a fire. It'd just give the terrorists more ammunition to toss right back at us. And, frankly, we can't risk the security of that country, or the security of ours, on one woman."

"I'm not saying to risk our security, just get someone in there." I pleaded. "You don't have to storm in, guns blazing. Talk to the ambassador. Talk to someone. Try to get word on her, anything. She's a British citizen, isn't she?"

He sat back. "I can talk to the ambassador. But we have a country to think about."

I wrung my wrists. As cold as the words were coming from Frankli's mouth, he seemed apologetic, and I could sense that he really did want to help. He reached over to his computer and woke it up, typing a few words into the keypad and shouting to his PA.

"Rachel, I want you to send a note to Stagg, tell him that I'd like to have some words with him. Soon, if possible."

She gave an affirmative, and he turned back to me.

"I'll see what I can do. In the meantime, maybe you should get in contact with the major."

"That'll be a bit difficult," I admitted. "He doesn't like to be bothered."

"I know that. But he may be of help. I'm not intimate with the things Macie was involved with, but I know that Sholto was assigned over her for a while, and she might have shared more information with him than she did with me. He might be able to remember details or get into contact with people that could help you. Do you have his contact?"

"Yeah, his e-mail."

"Alright. If that doesn't work, though, tell me, I can hunt him for you."

I sighed and nodded. "Thank you."

"I wish I could stay and discuss more with you, but I have another arrangement in, ah..." He glanced at his watch. "Fifteen minutes, and I have some e-mails to send. If you need anything else, don't hesitate to call."

"Alright, I will." I stood from my chair and reached forward to shake his hand.

He grapsed it firmly, giving me a stern look. "Be careful, John. And keep a close eye on that Jandi."

"I will." I gave him a nod, then turned. I could feel him watching me as I turned the corner.

"Now, tie that shoestring to the negative bracket on the third battery. Be careful. As soon as they make contact there's going to be heat exchange, so make sure those gloves are on properly. I've found that John doesn't particularly like the smell of burnt fingers."

I pulled myself up the stairs to the flat with my brow arched high. The door was left open, both the one to the sitting room and to the kitchen, and I could see your feet dipping from the edge of the sofa. You had taken the blankets and pillows from our bed and made yourself quite comfortable on the couch, while Jandi stood across the room, your huge rubber gloves hanging off his arms, two pairs of shoelaces in each hand. He seemed quite entertained by the set-up you had constructed between the two of you.

"Sherlock, I told you, no more experiments," I sighed, standing in the doorway.

"Jahandar is doing the experiment, I'm only watching." You defended. "And giving a bit of direction. Now, attatch the fourth shoe lace to the-"

"No, no, no. I'm not going to have anything blowing up today." I stepped around the mess and reached for a certain loose strand of shoelace, but you chirped loudly.

"Don't touch anything, John, those laces are live."

I looked at you. "Shoelaces don't conduct electricity, Sherlock."

You waved me off. "Let Jahandar dismantle it."

I put my hands in the air and stripped off my jacket. I was exhausted; running around London on a handful of hours of sleep was not turning out well for me. I folded my jacket and laid it across the back of my armchair, then braced my hands on it and leaned forward, stretching out my neck a little and taking a long, deep breath.

"How did it go?" You asked. "Untie the second negative bracket first."

"What?" I looked up.

"Jandi. Second negative bracket."

Jandi waddled towards one of the large car batteries situated along the desk and began working away at the shoelace. You turned back to me. "How did it go?"

"Not well." I sighed. "He said he would get in contact with the ambassador and see if anything could be done, but he didn't sound hopeful."

"Did you mention Sholto to him? Third positive bracket."

"Yes, I did. He said to get in contact with him, see if he knows anything. Speaking of which, I'll do that now."

I straightened, pausing just a second to let my muscles adjust, and then walked toward the desk. Your eyes fluttered along with me, and I could see your expression go a little cold, but I ignored it and grapped my laptop off the desk. You had left a few extra pages over the top, but I was gracious enough to clean them off for you. I sat down in my chair and set the computer on my knee.

"Is your leg hurting?" You asked.

"Hmm? Yeah, it's a little sore. Not much. I'm fine." I gave you a nod, then opened up my screen.

"I can massage it if you want. First positive bracket."

"It's probably just the rain, change of the weather."

"You should lay down."

"I'm fine."

Our eyes met. You looked very tired, but also stern. I felt bad that you had to worry every time I had a little limp, but, then again, it was a reminder to me, too, to look out for it. The limp had sort-of become my body's own way of telling me to slow down and relax. I rubbed my leg and stretched it out, balancing the laptop carefully between my thighs, opening my e-mail account.

"Take the closed end out of the fishbowl."

"Oh, Jesus Christ," I exclaimed, clicking on an e-mail. "I completely forgot."

"About what?"

"Greg wanted to see me in Hyde Park today. Oh, damn. He's there, right-" I glanced at my watch. "-right now, he's there and I'm supposed to be there. I totally forgot. Ugh, damn. Where's the dog? Gladstone!"

Our Basenji came trotting out of our bedroom, nuzzling his head into my hand and practically begging to be released from the flat. I closed my laptop and set it down on the floor, standing and grabbing for my jacket. A sharp pain went up from my knee, and I reached down to rub it, smoothing over the fabric of my trousers while simultaneously trying to play it off.

You wouldn't have it. "John, you should stay home. Rest your leg."

"I promised Greg I'd meet him, I don't want to-"

"John."

You weren't kidding. You let out a little sigh and pushed the blankets off your lap, sticking your lanky legs out over the floor and slowly standing up. You definitely looked pale - the medicine must've been wearing off, you were starting to feel the pain from the surgery.

"You can reschedule. You've hardly got any sleep, you've been stressed and running around all day. It's not good for you."

"But I feel-"

You stepped forward and set your hand against my shoulder.

"Reschedule."

My eyes flashed, but you were not interested in debating, and so I resigned. "Fine. I'll send him a text."

"Thank you."

I mumbled at you, walking back to my armchair and fishing my phone out of my jacket pocket. "I'll go tomorrow instead. But definitely tomorrow."

"I have no complaints." You said, laying back down on the sofa. "Second negative bracket."

I nodded and leaned into the spine of the armchair while I texted.

Hey, sorry, I couldn't make it. Something else came up. Could we meet tomorrow instead? - JW

You exchanged another glance with me, a softer one, this time. I knitted my eyebrows, and you softened your jaw. I was exhausted; you were exhausted, and in pain. But you were resting, at least. Laying down. I was running around London and getting myself worked up. I definitely needed sleep, and tea. Lots of tea.

"Sleeping will help," You said.

I nodded and stretched. "Maybe."

Can I lay by your side, next to review?

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