My sincerest apologies for the embarrassingly long holiday break. Travelling totally sucked up my time. I thought I would only lose a day or too. Not so. If you can understand this chapter without any necessary review, you're my new favorite person. But if not, it's okay to go back a few chapters and catch up on what's been happening. (Can't say I didn't.)

There are a few things that won't be explained until the next and final chapters so you don't have to worry if you're grasping for straws at the end, that was the point. Questions are good.

Enjoy.

I was determined to remain standing, biting my cheeks until I tasted copper instead of bile. The yellow lights began to fade back into white across the bare concrete. You gripped my hand firmly, guiding me along and refusing to let me fall more than two steps away. Two guards were ahead of us and one behind. Neither of us trusted them, and we fell into step with each other without realizing it.

Miranda remained at the head of the group regardless of Macie's warnings. In fact, Macie seemed like she was the one most eager to have her there. I wasn't sure what had happened to you and Miranda after Sholto and I had been separated, but she seemed even darker now, an air of mystery closing a cage around her. My trust in her had frayed around the edges, and by the clamminess of your hand, yours had too. But in all honesty she was our best option. It was beginning to look more and more like she was the only one who truly knew what was going on here, and that was terrifying in its own right.

We were brought into large rectangular room, taller than the rest, darker than the rest. Lights ran along the floor and streamed out from the various halls, but there were no overheads, and huge shadows criss-crossed along the ground. A machine that looked somewhat like an electric transformer was pushed up against the farthest wall. Men buzzed around like hornets, their eyes stinging at us, flexing to clear a path. A table made of sturdy metal stood between us and a tall Afghan man, whose large voice travelled well above the crowd. His table was draped with a huge red cloth, rolling up at the feet of his chair. The smell of roast meat and strong wine wafted from him. He was eating, obviously unhappy.

"You've come well-equipped with excuses, Grey," He growled, his lips against his wineglass. "And yet I've heard no apologies. This is your doing, your lack of adequacy."

"I am deeply sorry about any damages I might have been responsible for." Replied another, noticably softer. It pricked a familliar chord, and I searched for the owner of the voice. "Any loss of life or destruction of goods, I will replace three times over."

"And what about the invasion of security?"

He shifted his weight. "I'd like to point out again that was not by my order that your security was breached, and that I have benefitted in no way. I would have stopped it, if I had been able. But obviously there've been holes poked into my side, as well. Holes I'm also interested in fixing. Ones I'll gladly assist you in mending."

The mystery man glanced up at me, and I nearly hit the floor. His flat brown eyes remained completely expressionless, under tight guard, his dark hair dusted with salt. Colonel Franklin Guendolyn. I pulled on your arm, but you had already made the connection yourself. He had seen us. And he did not look happy.

"Well, here she is, your breach," Said the man at the table, motioning with his glass toward us. "Mend it."

Franklin glanced from us to Miranda. "Believe me, I will."

"I was starting to worry you'd forgotten about me," Miranda said, "It took you a long time to catch up."

He seethed. "You've made quite a mess of things, haven't you, Meer."

She turned to the man at the table. "I'm sure y-"

"I have no interest in hearing you speak," He declared, slamming his palm down beside his plate. "You have trespassed on my property, destroyed valuable goods, killed my men, threatened my sons, and injected yourself into my business. You are now my prisoner, and I would advise you act like one.

She rolled her jaw. "I am no one's prisoner. I came here to speak with you myself."

"You've lost that privledge." He snapped. "If you intend on keeping your skin, keep your mouth shut."

At the twist of his hand, a man appeared out of the swollen crowd and seized Miranda by the arm. At first she twisted away, but Franklin gave her a look of disgust, one that warned her to take the man's threats seriously. He continued to eat, guzzling down huge mouthfuls of wine while his hired men buzzed.

"I will take the responsibility upon myself to punish Miranda for her action against you." The colonel smoothed. "Any request of yours, I will grant. The last thing I want is for the reckless behavior of a third party to interrupt the good relations we've established. I am willing to do what you ask in return for peaceful resolution."

The man chewed, his heavy black eyes crossing over us. "Who are they?"

Franklin glanced at us, blank as a slate. "Consorts, possibly."

"They're here for me," Macie stated. "They're with me."

"All of them are also breaches, security threats." He spat. "What do you plan on doing about them? Or is your only interest in Miranda?"

"My interest is yours." He replied. "If you'll let me take them off your hands, I can assure you they'll be dealt with."

"Dealt with, how?"

Franklin paused, then smiled, hollow. "Firmly."

"Who are they? What is their importance?"

"They are of no consequence to you, I am sure. Ex-serviceman, physician. Chemist."

"I haven't attained my position by allowing unconsequential men walk free." He said, rising from his table. I felt my throat seize and released you, surprising you at first, but the fear of him sent me straight back to Afghanistan. Any visible weakness could be exploited. He was standing in front of me, the smell of wine even thicker. He was gigantic, leaning forward to sit at face level with me. "Do you know my name?" He asked.

Not a muscle would move. "No, sir."

His eyes grazed across my nose and mouth, lifting a hand to the bottom of my jaw to rotate my head, examining my neck, my shoulders. "What is my name."

His voice pricked the back of my neck. "I don't know, sir."

He brushed his finger against the collar of my shirt, wrinkled and dry with blood. "What is your name, then?"

"John," I answered.

"John, do you know how much a man of your size is worth?" He took my wrist to peer at my hand, turning it over. "More than you'd think."

Franklin gravitated toward us, moving slowly but purposefully, cutting around the table. "I'd be glad to take their inconvenience upon myself, Cemal."

He said nothing, instead moving toward you. You competed with him in height, but in gait, he overwhelmed you. "These two could be worth a desirable amount," He slurred, pulling off your scarf with a jerk. Your face was guarded, nearly plastic, but I could see hills of revulsion starting to build as he studied your neck, just like he had mine. "Stong figure, full shoulders. His face has nice form. He would bode well in an auction."

You gave no outward reaction, but I could feel the temperature around you change, plummeting into the negatives, your eyes losing all color. Sholto shifted himself to be within grabbing distance of me, in case I decided to leap for the man. But I doubted my limbs would follow through with any sort of order I gave them.

"Allow me to arrange for it." Franklin offered, staggering me. "I'll have both of them safely passed and allow you the payment, with interest."

"I'll consider it. But for the more important task at hand." He turned to face Franklin again, now only a few feet from him. "I want to be sure that Miranda does not attempt something like this again."

"I understand completely."

"Then explain to me how you will ensure her obedience."

"We have methods of dealing with incompliant people. We won't kill her; she might still be useful in some form or another. But she will be electrocuted. Depending on her actions thereafter, we also have torturers, dogs, and submersion techniques that have proven successful before. If she breaks agreement again, she will be executed immediately."

"Good. And what of the girl?"

"She knows too much for her own good, she is no longer acceptable as an ally or enemy." He stated. "I will take care of her myself."

"If it is not done, I will know," He warned.

"You have my word, sir, she will die. Her death will be a relief."

I stared at him. I had seen plenty of scams before, shows you put on to coax a delinquent or a victim into talking with you. I told myself that this was some kind of elaborate rescue mission, probably formulated by yourself and Mycroft years ago, just in case we happened to be used as the bargaining chips of a major criminal. But the longer I watched Franklin, the harder it was to determine what parts of him were familliar and which were counterfeit. He stood the way he had in Parliament, with the rain at his back and the light shining through his hair, but now his eyes were dark with malice, hatred and frustration boiling through to his tongue. I didn't know what, or who, to believe.

But Cemal had agreed, looking again toward us, specifically toward you, his eyes flickering with hunger that I recognized. The hole tore deeper into my chest while my muscles screamed both for and against motion. He stepped closer, mouth crooked, mind teetering with thoughts. "I'll show mercy on you this time, Grey, because I am a good man. You will punish the woman in whatever way you please as your assurance to me that you will not allow such behavior to continue. You will also dispose of these three as a personal favor for the sake of reestablishing mutual respect. In the meantime, I will keep this one, as compensation for all this inconvenience. This is my final decision. Now, leave."

Sholto's hands on my shoulders guided me toward Franklin, but I couldn't tear my eyes away from you, standing completely still in front of the man. Miranda was seized again by two men, more forcefully this time, bound at the wrists with thick rope. They then moved toward us, binding Macie first, then Sholto, then me. But you were left untouched, aside from Cemal's roaming hands, evaluating every inch of you he could reach.

There was no way in hell I was leaving without you. The thought kept ringing, kept shrieking in my head, but my body refused to respond. James watched me carefully, his still twisted, but he made no move to speak. He was too far in, and he was blind. Franklin seemed painfully agreeable, too, as if he hadn't even noticed that he was casting one of us aside. But there was no way in hell I was leaving without you, and my legs echoed back, stepping toward you only to be intercepted by the colonel's palm.

"Don't make a scene, John." He whispered. "You're getting out by the skin of your teeth already."

"We're not leaving him," I croaked.

"You say anything, and he'll take you instead."

"It's not a question, colonel!"

"This is Cemal's arena, not yours."

I watched, breathless with dread as he pulled at your hair. "I don't care."

"You know what he'll do. He'll have you tortured and raped until you are literally torn apart."

"And you're going to let him do it to Sherlock?!" I cried.

"We can't let him take Holmes." Miranda hissed. "He knows things, too. About us. He's an asshole, but he's a valuable asshole."

"Any value he might have is outweighed by your closure alone. We have no more bargaining chips. We need to go, now."

Miranda snarled at him, but was then pushed away from him by one of the hired men. Macie and Sholto followed, the two of them being hauled by rough hands toward the door while Franklin went back toward Cemal. I tried to follow him, but another took my wrists in his hand. I wrestled, turning to shout at the man, kicking my feet down toward his ankles. My heart was in my head, but I was not interested in remaining calm, and I was no longer conscerned with my own safety or escape. I swung as hard as I could toward his shin, throwing him briefly off-balance, and raced forward.

"No, wait, we're not finished!" I shouted, nearly tripping as the man grabbed my wrists again, tugging my arms painfully backward.

"Go, John. You'll accomplish nothing," Franklin said.

"Just listen to me." I snapped. "I'm John Watson, dammit, and that's Sherlock Holmes. I'm telling you right now, you can't have him."

Cemal studied me, his black eyes creaking.

"John, go back with Sholto," Franklin snarled.

"You don't know who you're dealing with." I continued. "You take him and I promise you'll have the entire fucking calvary on your heels. It won't just be a manhunt. We'll rip you up from the roots, every single one of you. There won't be one weed of you left."

Silence hung thick as tar. Cemal watched me, his nose and mouth curled up. Franklin had closed his eyes, still as a stone until Cemal turned to him, and he glanced back apologetically. My threats hung in the air, dangling like frozen stalactites above his head, my anger still stinging in my nostrils. You were staring at me, struggling to deduce Cemal's reaction before he moved.

But he stepped forward, the sound of his footsteps dancing along the walls, and the man holding my hands vanished in his wake. His eyes became small, his chest became huge.

"Tell me your name, cunt."

"My name is John Watson." I bit.

"Watson." He tsked. "I should have known."

He turned on his heel and walked briskly back to where you and Franklin were standing, both caught somewhere between awe and horror. My knees felt weak, but Cemal's burning voice shot out over my head.

"Take him." He turned to the colonel. "Consider it the suspension of our deal."

Franklin shared a glance with him, freezing over.

He kept you and Miranda at his side until we made it to the surface, where day was just beginning to shiver up the sky. As we arrived, a limousine pulled to the curb. I wasn't sure what surrounded us. All the light had started to blur together with the combination of stress, relief, and confusion. We had made it out, all of us. But how, exactly? And where were we headed now? Franklin had convinced Cemal to let him have hold of us, but only under the condition that he would sell us out himself. Do we trust him now?

As we entered the car, extra men inside helped us out of our bonds. Immediately as I felt my shoulders loosen, I reached for you. You caught me and cupped my face, easing me down beside you, your lips pressed against my forehead. My heart felt weak, and nausea swirled around me, as if I was about to vomit again. But, as I soon realized, it wasn't necessarily my fault.

"What the hell is that?" You demanded, pulling me closer to you. The man behind me was holding a syringe, an empty syringe. I hadn't even felt the needle prick my hand, but I could feel it now. I slumped against your arm, my eyes sliding halfway closed.

"Sedative," Franklin grumbled, sitting near the head of the car, flanked by his private staff. "I don't want him mouthing off, he's already fucked up enough for one day. I'll give it to you, too, if you're going to put up a fuss."

"How did you find us?" Miranda asked, massaging her wrists.

"I never lost you. I knew what you were trying to do, and I intercepted you."

"A little late," She added.

"I did what I could, but when you're chasing a whirlwind the best you can do is ride the wind." He narrowed his eyes toward her. "I'm not going to let you out easy this time."

"I didn't expect you to. But why save them?"

He kneaded his temple. "I chose to do what benefitted me the most. I have the authority to do such because I am in command. You are not. So watch your tongue."

"I think you're a bigger liar than I give you credit for," She replied, sitting back. He glowered at her, whispered threats under his breath, and passed out of vision.

Macie sat beside me, running her hand along my arm, her voice sweet although I could hardly understand her. Sholto watched from another seat, bent over onto his elbows with his hands wrung out in front of him, eyes closed. I wanted to talk to him, wanted to comfort him in some sort of way, but the way his head tilted away from me made me think he was at this point beyond helping. He still wouldn't look at me.

"I'm impressed," Miranda said. "Honestly, I didn't think John had a speech like that in him. He sure had Cemal's attention, didn't he."

"He was cornered," Sholto said. "Desperate."

"But who did he mean, we?" Macie said.

"My brother." You said, settling your hand at my waist. "Mycroft is his secret trump card."

"Brother?"

Miranda and Franklin shared the same expression - first of confusion, then of realization, then, as they turned toward each other, comprehension.

We had passed out of the shadow of the building, but I still felt crushed by the floors of buried concrete, and I could still feel the tingling residue of our captor's grimy hands under my clothes. I turned my head to press my face into your shoulder, sinking into the smell of your skin as I drifted out onto the water.

There's a million reasons why I should give you up, but the review wants what it wants.

Watch for the next update.