There is now a legitimate chapter 11 so you should go back and read it.
I'm so sorry about the wait, but double update!
The pictures of Andrew had migrated. All the pictures of his son alone in that big house had moved from the dirt covered floor to the dust covered walls, but now it wasn't just Andrew in every frame that was haunting John's every waking moment. It was Sherlock, too. Sherlock now had his own growing stash of pictures.
Just him in his frames.
Just Andrew in his frames.
Just John in his cave.
"Can't you see what I've been trying to tell you, John? Now, please, answer my question and save yourself the heartache of seeing all this." John knew the deal, but he what he didn't know is what they were going to do with what they learned from him.
"Hadi, you know that I will never answer that question, nor anything you ask me." John spit out, though he was the one tied to the chair and Hadi was the one who could walk out whenever he wanted.
Hadi Harun chuckled as he pulled another photo out of the manila envelop of Andrew sitting in his room at Mycroft's crying at a wall of photos, just as John was.
"No. NO!" John strained against the ropes keeping him tied fast to the chair he loathed so much. He couldn't take this, he couldn't take his son crying in a room that was not his own while thinking his Dad was dead. He needed to get home, not John, Andrew. Andrew needed to get home to his Father.
"Answer my question, John, and my employer will get your son to his dad as-"
"I am his Dad." John was livid with Hadi, with Mycroft, with Sherlock, with anyone. Why would anyone let this happen to a poor boy who had just lost his Dad.
"My apologies, answer my question, John, and my employer will get you son back to his Father tomorrow." John's head was bowed, but when he brought his eyes up to meet Hadi's there was nothing weak about his features, if his hands weren't tied his captor would have been dead.
"How do I know you are telling the truth?" His words were measured, careful, and threatening. And after spending so much time with Sherlock John could see the fear in Hadi's eyes even though he did a spectacular job hiding it from his body language.
"My employer always makes good on his promises, so if you no longer want a sobbing son, I suggest you make good on your end, too." John pursed lips in concentration as he tried to come to a decision, "John, I don't have all day." He moved to leave.
"Wait! Promise me you will get my son to his Father tomorrow and I will answer your question. Just that ONE question." John called to Hadi's back, but finished as he turned around.
"Very well, answer, now."
"No, you are so good at pictures. I want photographic proof that Andrew is with Sherlock before I tell you anything."
"Fine." Hadi left to go have a chat with his mysterious employer to inform him that their captive had broken, they were getting their information.
Sherlock burst through the door of his brother's office ignoring the bothered look the official gave him as he threw himself into the chair opposite the intricately carved wooden desk.
"I miss him." Was all he said to his brother.
"I assume you would, I have been informed that you value your-it's gone." Mycroft's face drained of color as he turned his attention away from his paper work and focused fully on the computer to his right. Sherlock rolled his eyes and looked at the equally intricate paintings around him, just waiting for his brother to explain what cause his mini panic attack.
"What's gone? Those last three pounds you have been working on, oh I doubt it."
"Shut up a moment, Sherlock! I am talking about every article ever written about you and John! All of them. Every single one." Both men were quiet as Sherlock processed the information.
"What? How did that happen?" Sherlock leapt off the chair and invaded his brother's personal space as his eyes demanded to see what his ears refused to believe, "We have been trying for weeks to get them to take down all those articles and failed. How did this happen?"
"No way good." Mycroft commented as he scrolled through nothing.
"This means Andrew can come home." Sherlock's face was lit up with hope as he looked triumphantly at his brother.
Mycroft snorted, "No it doesn't." Sherlock's hopeful gaze morphed into a glare.
"Oh, and why not?"
"Sherlock, look at this! We have been trying for weeks to take down these articles and failed, us! So who did this? Someone powerful, and with you, probably someone bad. Next thought, why. Why take down these articles, what do they gain?" There was a pause, "Think, Sherlock."
"Odds are we need to give them what they want, Mycroft. You said it yourself Andrew could never live with me while the press was hounding me, but now that they aren't he is fit to come home." Mycroft pursed his lips in distaste.
"Are we giving them what they want or are we ignoring the situation and giving you what you want?" The government leaned back and steeped his fingers.
"I am getting him whether you like it or not, we had an agreement, Mycroft, Andrew would stay with you so long as the press was about me. Well, as you can plainly see the press is no longer about me! I am collecting my son and there is nothing you can do to stop me."
"There are many things I can do to stop you, Sherlock, you and I both know that." Sherlock rolled his eyes yet again, after living with Mycroft he had become the master of it.
"You saw what happened after you tried to separate me from John, just try to separate me from Andrew and I promise to be much much worse."
During the duration of this conversation the color had been returning to Mycroft's face, but at the mention of those incidents the color was once again gone from his cheeks.
"I'll send a car to pick up his things and take him to Baker Street."
"His home."