Two hours earlier...

"Don' listen to 'im, Inspector!" Wiggins shouted, glaring around Bryce's broad frame at Moran. " 'E's a dirty liar! What did yer do t' the guv'nor?!"

"Wiggins, be quiet!" snapped Lestrade. How was a chap supposed to think straight on less than an hour's sleep, with all that yelling in their ear to boot? "I want to hear what he has to say."

"Ask 'im what 'appened to 'is other arm, then!" the Irregular snarled. " 'E weren't 'oldin' it like that on the roof!"

Moran raised an amused eyebrow. "Sharp eyes on this one, Inspector. No need to turn yourself inside out, boy. Your 'guv'nor' was still kicking when we parted ways, at least."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lestrade frowned.

"Meaning your protégé there is absolutely right," the Colonel drawled. "I had every intention of murdering Holmes before he got to the ship."

Wiggins's reaction was exactly what a horrified Lestrade would have expected, trying to lunge at Moran with a yell of rage; luckily for all of them, Bryce had seen it coming as well. Still holding the front of Wiggins's jacket, the captain lifted the boy right off the ground, and bellowed into his face, "Mr. Wiggins! Do not try my patience, sir, or you'll be in the brig! And then you'll have no idea of what's going on – is that what you want?"

Lestrade sagged in relief as Wiggins scowled ferociously, though looking more than a little intimidated, and then turned back to a smirking Moran, who hadn't moved. "Why? Why risk your life to disobey orders?"

"Whatever you may think of me, Inspector, I've always been particular about the men I take orders from. Moriarty, I'm sorry to say, is no longer one of them."

"...Dare I ask what changed?"

"He did." Moran scowled suddenly. "I should've knifed that rum-soaked fossil before we ever left the pub!"

"You mean... Mr. Smee?" Lestrade exclaimed. "You brought the two of them together?"

"Worst mistake I ever made!" the Colonel growled. "Moriarty didn't even believe the old sot's tale to start with, until he dug deeper into Holmes's past, and found out about his first adoption. Then the report came in that the wreck of a ship called the Jolly Roger had been found, because of actual flying fish... Ever read Jekyll and Hyde, Inspector?"

"Not as such, but I think I know what you mean," Lestrade said slowly. A man of science suddenly granted complete freedom to act without consequence, or fear of the law... "Why does Moriarty want Holmes, then, if he already knows how to fly?"

"Because there was one very important thing Smee couldn't tell him: the way to Neverland."

"...Bloody hell." To escape the law by disappearing from human ken entirely... "So that's what he's been playing at all this time – jogging Holmes's memory! Oh Lord, and we've all been helping him..."

Moran nodded with a grim smile. "He knew you would."

"And you planned to make sure he never got what he wanted." By murdering Holmes in mid-air, up close and personal, with no one to interfere. "Didn't the idea of cheating death appeal?"

The Colonel snorted. "Death by hanging, I'll happily leave to someone else! But cheating death entirely? Nothing good's ever come of a man thinking he's immortal."

Especially not Moriarty... "All right, fair enough. So what made you spare Holmes in the end?"

Moran spared a rueful glance down at his left arm. "Let's just say... I owed him one."


"You're not seriously thinking of trusting him, are you?" Gregson bit back a yawn; Lestrade had reluctantly woken the more cynical of his two colleagues for a hasty conference. "We're talking about Moriarty's right-hand man, for God's sake!"

"Moran's a bastard, I'm not denying that." Lestrade shook his head and gulped down more coffee. He seemed to have passed right through exhaustion and out the other side. "But he is an honourable bastard, in his own way. Something happened during that fight to make him think Holmes deserved a chance to face the Professor. Whatever it was, I'm not about to argue with his reasoning!"

"That doesn't explain why he's here, though! What does he want from Scotland Yard?"

"Oh, you'll love this: amnesty."

"What?!"

"In exchange for helping us, he wants a pardon for everything he's done." The Inspector frowned. "But only for Moriarty, he was very clear about that."

Gregson brightened. "So we can still arrest him for anything else? Sounds like a bargain to me! Help us how, though?"

"You must still be half-asleep, Gregson! The man can fly!"


Returning to the bridge, the two Yarders found Moran already discussing strategy with Captain Bryce, Wiggins still skulking in the corner. "The hostages will mostly be locked in the cages in the stern, the rest in the brig at the bow. Once your ship has been sighted, most of the crew, if not all of them, should be up on deck. I can deal with whoever's left easily enough."

"But won't their seeing you raise any kind of alarm?" the captain asked.

"It's possible... but I have a feeling the Professor would want to keep any news of my... desertion to himself. Oh, and we'll need your crew to time their shots very carefully – no less than a minute between each one."

"All right... Why, though?"

"Because Moriarty doesn't do so well when he's forced to think on his feet. A minute's long enough for him to react to the damage you're doing, but not to consider every outcome. Now, two ranging shots should give me enough time to get everyone forward before you hole the stern with the third. Be sure to hit below the waterline, but only after the ship has lifted off. With the hull breached, Moriarty won't be able to land again, and you can rip the sails to rags at your convenience."

"What do you mean, 'lifted off'?" frowned Gregson.

"Weren't you paying attention earlier?" Lestrade answered. "Fairy dust can make objects fly, as well as people. That's how Holmes and the other children got back from Neverland, they made the pirate ship fly."

"Damn," Gregson breathed. "Now, that's a sight I'd like to see!"

"If Moriarty doesn't intend to surrender, you probably will," Bryce remarked, rubbing his hands together. "This should be an interesting exercise for the artillery crew!"

"Well, try not to hit the masts," Moran grunted. "The last thing I'll need while below is the deck caving in! Which reminds me, Inspector, you've had plenty of time to consider my proposal. Do we, in fact, have a deal?"

"Your help to get the hostages off the ship, in exchange for a pardon for your crimes under Moriarty's command? My colleagues and I are indeed prepared to accept your offer – but," Lestrade held up a hand as Moran started to smile; "we have two conditions, and you probably won't like either of them."

The Colonel stopped smiling. "Well?"

"The first condition is exile," Gregson answered grimly. "Total amnesty is too damn lenient by half. You've already made England too hot to hold you, anyhow, so we're extending that to include all British-held territory once this case is over. Set foot in any lands belonging to the Empire, and the deal's off."

Moran nodded slowly; Lestrade could practically see the list of countries still open to him compiling behind his eyes. "And the second condition?"

"One of us goes with you to the Lady Godiva. It's not that we don't trust you, but as far as we know, none of the prisoners has any reason to believe a word you say, and every second will count."

Moran's scowl suddenly became a grin. "Fine. The boy, then."

"What? No, we meant..."

"He is 'one of you', isn't he? He's also the smallest, which means he's harder to catch, and he needs less dust to fly. With that many hostages, every grain will count, too!"

Lestrade sighed, trying not to scowl himself. They'd walked right into that one! "Only if Wiggins agrees."

"Are yer joshin' me?!" Wiggins burst out, running up to Lestrade, his eyes practically bulging out of his head. "I get to fly?"

"Yes... but you will need practice, lad, quite a bit of it. Oh, and they'll need some bolt cutters," Lestrade said to Bryce. "They can't waste any time looking for keys."

"The engine room will have at least one pair." Bryce leaned over the side and shouted orders down.

"And as many pistols as you can spare," Moran added, reaching into his waistcoat pocket and drawing out the silver thimble and chain. "Let's hope there's enough dust for you to reach the ship at all, boy! We'll need to climb at least a mile to see her, then fly in low to avoid being spotted ourselves."

Wiggins made a face at him. "Watch me!" Then the boy's eyes narrowed. "Why're yer 'elpin' us, guv', really? When yer coulda jus' left Mr. 'Olmes alive to face yer boss."

Moran shrugged. "I suppose I've always preferred underdogs to have a fighting chance. Though it remains to be seen if Holmes has stayed alive long enough to seize it!"


"Ten years! Ten years, you lying bastard! I'll kill you!"

Long after Holmes had left the hold, Watson remained kneeling at the door to his and Mary's prison, staring bleakly at the floor; it was fractionally less painful than looking towards the stern, where Holmes had been carried away in the company of Moriarty, without so much as a backward glance... "I'm sorry, Holmes..." he whispered, the ache in his chest making it hard to breathe, let alone speak.

"All those years... Lying to my face and laughing behind my back, you bloody coward!"

It was over... all over... just as he'd known it would be, one day... and the dreaded moment had been so much worse than he'd ever imagined... Holmes's snarling face... the blazing, hate-filled eyes... He had done that to his brother, not Moriarty...

"I won't have him coming near me, or any of my family, ever again!" "Very well..."

It seemed that Moriarty had succeeded in sinking his claws into Holmes, after all; Holmes would probably do whatever the Professor wanted now. The very best Watson could hope for was to be set free by default with everyone else once Holmes had complied, the detective still seemed to think somewhat kindly of Mary...

"Ohhh..."

The faint groan drove everything else from Watson's mind. Mary was coming back round... and thank God, no one else down here seemed to have noticed yet! He hurried to lie next to her on the straw tick, shielding her from view as best he could. Placing a trembling hand over her mouth, he made shushing noises in her ear as he stroked her hair. "I'm here, Mary, it's all right," he breathed. "Listen to me, you must stay quiet!"

"...J'hn?"

"Please, love, don't make a sound!" Watson hissed urgently. "They'll hear and fetch Nichols!" His heart broke at the involuntary whimper that escaped his wife, she had begged him last time not to send her under again... but with Moriarty's puppet doctor the only alternative, injecting Mary himself had been all the mercy he could give... "Just lie still and listen to my voice, dearest," he whispered, grateful beyond words for the solid, comforting warmth of her in his arms. "You don't have to talk, I know you're feeling ill just now. It'll pass soon, I promise."

Mary frowned, one of her hands coming up to rest on his chest. "...shaking..." she murmured in concern, suddenly looking decidedly less heavy-eyed.

"...I-I'm cold, that's all... I'll be fine..."

"John... don't lie... please..."

Watson swallowed hard, the pain in his chest redoubling, then whispered brokenly, "H-Holmes..."

His wife gasped softly. "Sherlock? Is he... all right? You said... last time..."

"Oh... yes, he... he seems to be better... He c-came down just now... with M-Mor..." He couldn't bring himself to so much as whisper that hateful name.

"...oh, John… What happened?"

"He... oh, Mary! I... I had to sh-show him..." Unable even to whisper now as his gorge rose and choked him, Watson fumbled for Mary's hand and moved it to his left shoulder, his whole body trembling as he forced back the sobs that seemed determined to break free. He couldn't... not here, not now! Then Mary's arms were around his neck, gentle hands stroking his hair, and Watson was suddenly too exhausted to swim against the tide any longer. He curled into her embrace as he shook, biting down on the lapel of the coat that he'd given her to muffle his sobs, though he feared it wasn't nearly enough... but it didn't seem to matter just now so much as the feeling of his heart, lungs and ribs being slowly, inexorably squeezed in a giant fist...

"Ahem..."

Watson gulped for air as Mary gasped in dismay, hastily turning over to see Dr. Nichols a few feet away, a burly crewman standing behind him. "I... I'm so sorry, doctor... ma'am..." Nichols stammered, looking like he wanted the deck boards to swallow him up as he came forward with the ring of keys. "I... I don't have any choice!"

"Like hell!" Watson growled, scrambling to his feet. "You come near her again, and I'll thrash the hide off you!" Somewhere in the back of his mind, a familiar voice was pointedly wondering whether this was really a good idea... but the fury coursing through the doctor was much louder just now, and so much more welcome... At least Nichols was backing away in alarm to hide behind his grinning escort, although the off-duty crewmen were starting to look round at the commotion and get out of their hammocks. Let them come, then! All of them!

"SHIP AHOY!"

"Aaall haaands! Up anchor, ahooy!"

There was a sound overhead like stampeding cattle, and in a few seconds, everyone below had scurried up the ladders and out the hatches. Everyone, that is, except for Nichols and his bodyguard, looking at each other uncertainly.

"Go on," Nichols ventured timidly. "I shan't need to let anyone out now."

The other crewman looked torn, but then shook his head. "The captain said you wasn't to be left alone down here with this lot."

"He won't be." Watson's heart plummeted as Colonel Moran came down the forehatch ladder. So much for taking advantage of all the commotion! "You can go on up, Shaw. The captain's put me in charge down here while you chaps deal with the Navy."

"Thanks, Colonel!" Shaw raced up the ladder and banged the hatch down.

"Idiot," Moran grunted, looking sharply all around, then turned and drove his fist straight into Nichols's jaw!

Mary gave a little gasping shriek as the doctor slumped to the boards, and Watson jumped in front of her, fists raised. "Lay a hand on either one of us, you evil bastard, and you'll wish you'd never been born!" What the hell was going on?!

"Keep your shako on, soldier," came the dry retort. "Believe it or not, this is a rescue, not playtime. Here."

Watson stared at what the Colonel was thrusting at him through the bars – the thimble! "Wh-What...?"

"I don't have time for long explanations!" Moran growled, dropping the thimble and chain on the floor of the brig. He produced what appeared to be a large pair of bolt cutters from his pocket, slicing through the padlock on the door with seemingly minimal effort, and undid the bolt. "That ship they've spotted out there? It's Scotland Yard with a Navy gunboat, and they're about to start using us for target practice! Do what you like, the pair of you, but I've got cages to open!" Then to Watson's further astonishment, Moran lifted off the floor and flew towards the stern!

"John..." Mary sounded almost as stunned as Watson felt, slowly sitting up on the mattress. "I-I think he means it!"

"...It's not possible..."

"John!" Mary reached up and shook her husband vigorously by the sleeve. "You have a brother who can fly like a bird and talks to fairies! Don't tell me what's impossible!" She shoved hard at his legs, almost making his knees buckle. "Now, go on and help him get everyone out!"

"...Right." Still in something of a daze, Watson scooped up the thimble and watch chain and tucked them into his waistcoat pocket, before cautiously swinging the brig door open. He could still hardly believe that this wasn't some kind of elaborate trick of Moriarty's. "You stay here, just in case." In case of what, though, he couldn't have said for the life of him.

When Watson reached the stern, he saw that Moran had only opened Mycroft's cage so far, who was still unconscious – a wise choice, the doctor decided, as both the other two cages held people who were already awake, and looked ready to commit murder with their bare hands!

"Get 'im, Doctor!" Charlie shouted, pointing at the Colonel, while the younger boys beside him yelled and jeered savagely, baring their teeth. Meanwhile, Mrs. Hudson was crouched protectively over the smallest boys in the second cage, her expression much the same as a she-wolf defending her cubs.

Moran shook his head with a silent chuckle, and handed Watson the bolt cutters. "All yours, old boy. I know when I'm outnumbered!"

Thankfully, the din had all but gone silent at the astonishing exchange, and Watson hastened to fill the void. "Listen to me, all of you! You heard that call up on deck? It's the Navy, they're here to help us!" A muffled cheer went up, hastily stifled, and Watson set to work on Mrs. Hudson's cage. "And I know it seems crazy, but Moran's the one who set Mary and I free just now, so I'm taking a chance that he means us no harm. None of you has to like it," he added sternly as he swung the cage door open, "but we don't have any other options just now."

"Very true," Mrs. Hudson said primly, stepping out and slowly unbending herself, then turned to Moran and slapped him hard across the face! "And that's for the children, you monster!" she snarled. "How dare you!"

Watson flung himself between the pair before Moran could react, holding up his hands. "All right! Yes! Good shot, Mrs. Hudson! Now please go to the brig and help Mary, she's still not on her feet yet."

"Well, why didn't you say so?" the woman snapped, and hurried away.

"We need to get them all up there," Moran said in a faintly bemused voice, rubbing his now-scarlet cheek. "The Sharpshooter means to fire two ranging shots as a warning, then blast the stern with the third. Moriarty's planning to fly the Lady Godiva out of range, so we won't sink, but still... I'm sure you can imagine what it's going to be like down here."

"My God, yes, I can! Right, you lot, listen up! We have to get everyone as far into the bow as possible. Anyone who's walking helps anyone who's not! Move!"

BOOM!

Moran swore. "It's started! Leave the others to it, Doctor, we've got to move him!"

Watson saw in dismay that Moran was right. Mycroft was only just beginning to twitch – they couldn't wait for him to wake up, and there was no time for the fairy dust, either! The pair grabbed the unconscious man under his arms and started to haul him out of the cage.

Moran swore again as Mycroft's head and shoulders emerged and let go, clutching his left forearm. "Damn it, I can't hold him! Holmes stabbed me!"

Watson glared at him in deep suspicion, uncertain whether to curse or cheer if it was true! Mercifully, Charlie, Sam and Billy had just returned, who crowded around the two men and latched on as well. "Right, heave!" Thank heaven, they were moving!

BOOM!

"Second shot! Keep going, we've got less than a minute!" Moran pointed with his free hand to where the others were piling whatever cargo was to hand in front of the brig – boxes, barrels, sacks, coils of rope, even the straw tick. Watson could see Mary still inside, persuading a dazed-looking Irregular to stay with the other boys who weren't steady enough on their feet to help.

"...Doctor..." Watson looked down and saw in relief that Mycroft's eyes were half open, gazing up at him owlishly. "I appear... to be flying?"

"Not yet, sorry," the doctor grunted. If they didn't get under cover, he just might... but they were almost there... and now more hands were helping to drag their precious cargo behind the barricade. "Everybody down! Cover your ears!" Watson dropped to his knees beside Mycroft with a groan, back spasming as he peered around their makeshift shelter for a moment – no, thank God, no one had been left...

"G-Get away from me!" shouted a man's voice from behind, and a booted foot kicked Watson sharply in the back as Nichols stumbled out of the brig towards the nearest ladder, knocking into one of the barrels in his haste and sending it rolling. "Let me out of here! You're all mad!"

"Get down, you fool!" Moran roared after him.

BOOM!

"NO!" Watson dove forward and tackled the terrified doctor to the deck, and the next instant, the world exploded. A roaring, scorching wind swept over him, snatching his breath as he hid his face in his arms, a veritable swarm of splinters jabbing and stinging every inch of him within reach... "Ah!" The doctor cried out as something razor sharp sliced across his upper right arm.

The onslaught abruptly slowed and stopped, leaving an oppressive silence in its wake. Watson dared to lift his head, tiny bits of wood falling from his hair onto Nichols's limp form below him. Down in the stern was a large glowing patch of swirling, smoky haze – daylight! That shell had blown a sizeable hole, all right...

"...ohn?! John!" Damn, his ears were ringing, he could barely hear Mary's frantic calls.

"I-I'm all right, Mary! Somebody help me with Nichols!"

Then Moran was beside Watson, helping him to roll gingerly off his colleague and sit down on the debris-covered floor, checking Nichols for vital signs. "He'll live!" the Colonel said loudly in Watson's ear. "Looks like he just hit his head when you tackled him! Good God, man, what were you thinking?" But he said it with a grin.

"Leave him, then. How's everyone else?"

"Shaken up, that's all. Looks like you got the worst of it. Who's got the doctor's bag?"

Charlie came over with Nichols's Gladstone, Mary close behind him, leaning on Mrs. Hudson.

"John! Oh, John...!" His wife tumbled down beside him and threw her arms around his neck, and Watson returned the embrace with fervour."I'm all right, love, it's just a scratch."

"A scratch, my eye!" Mrs. Hudson sniffed, tipping the contents of the Gladstone out onto the floor. "You sit right there, doctor, and don't move!"

"What's that shoutin'?" Charlie suddenly frowned, venturing down the deck towards the gaping hole in the hull. "It... It sounds like..."

"Oh no, you don't, boy!" Moran leapt after the Irregular and hauled him up by the collar. "If you fall out, it's a long way down, and I just ran out of dust!"

"But it's the guv'nor! 'E was callin' our names, I 'eard 'im! 'E don' know we ain' dead!"

"And that's the last thing anyone up there needs to know! If they think you've all been blown to bits, they won't miss you after, will they?"

BOOM!

Everyone instinctively flinched at the sound of the shot, but this time the result was a ghastly cracking sound from high above them.

"It's coming down!" "Look out!"

CRASH!

The ship shuddered with the impact, and Moran swore loudly. "Idiots! They're meant to be shredding the sails, not the masts!"

"So that shot down here was supposed to be the only one?" Watson asked, who had just managed to remain still while Mrs. Hudson continued working on him.

"That's right, to give us a way off the ship without being seen."

"Marvellous. And how exactly are we getting off? I don't know if there's enough dust left in this thimble for even one of us!"

Suddenly there was a yell from the upper deck, then a long, terrified scream to starboard. Dear heaven, someone had fallen from the ship!

"Oh God!" Mary gasped. "That wasn't...?"

"Don' worry, mum, it weren' the guv'nor!" called a soft, familiar voice from the stern.

Watson stared, heart pounding. "Wiggins?!"

The Irregular grinned widely as he flew towards the group, holding up one of his own boots. And his clothes and hair were practically shimmering... " 'E's with Moriarty on the 'alf deck, I jus' seen 'im. Yer were right about the dust, Colonel! Cor, it was jus' like a ruddy waterfall!"

"If someone does not explain what is going on without delay," a deeper voice came acidly from behind Watson as the other boys crowded joyfully around Wiggins, slapping him on the back, "I shall be most displeased." Thank God, Mycroft was on his feet at last! And probably still feeling quite nauseous, poor man, judging by the testiness in his voice. "Report, Colonel," he said coldly, "and make it brief."

An astonished Watson saw Moran's right shoulder visibly twitch, as if he'd barely resisted the impulse to salute. "This is a rescue, Mr. Holmes. Scotland Yard commandeered a Navy gunboat to pursue this ship. We can escape through the hole they made in the hull for us."

"An' I've gotta load o' fairy dust in my boot!" Wiggins exclaimed. "Moran told me to wait up top till the ship took off, and catch whatever fell down. Got a bit 'airy when they threw the cannons off, but there's enough 'ere for everyone!"

"Bravo, Mr. Wiggins. Colonel, I do not know why you have chosen to throw your lot in with ours, nor do I wish to; but I am prepared to overlook a great deal just now for the sake of expediency."

"Really?" Moran all but purred. "Lestrade's report should make interesting reading, then!"

"Are you two quite finished?" Watson snapped. "Wiggins, get moving with that dust! You and Moran can escort the women over first!"

"Line up, boys, quickly!" Mary urged, herding the ones on their feet into a somewhat orderly queue behind her and Mrs. Hudson, while Watson and Mycroft returned to the brig for the stragglers.

"Something tells me, doctor," Mycroft murmured, "that you do not intend to leave with the others."

"I could say the same for you," Watson murmured back, kneeling beside Felix and hoisting him over his shoulder. "And yes, Holmes is on board, Charlie heard him calling for us. He sounded beside himself..." It seemed unlikely that his own name had been on Holmes's lips... but that didn't matter just now.

"Yer gotta think really 'ard about somethin' 'appy," Wiggins was explaining seriously to the line as they returned. "Somethin' that always cheers yer up, even when yer sad."

"Or someone," Watson said, smiling tenderly at Mary, whose shoulders were now covered in dust.

Mary blushed, smiling back, then gasped as she suddenly rose into the air. "Oh my goodness!"

"That's it, yer got it!" Wiggins flew up beside Mary, leaving the boot behind, and took her arm.

BOOM! RRRRIPPPP! SPLASSSHHH!

"C'mon, mum, we gotta go!"

"I can't steer..."

"You don't have to," Watson said firmly before Wiggins could say anything else. He reached up and squeezed Mary's hand. "Just hold tight to Wiggins, I'll be right behind."

"John..." his wife murmured, squeezing back. "How stupid do you think I am?"

Watson reddened, meeting her reproachful gaze with difficulty. "I'm sorry, Mary... I just... I can't..."

"I know." She floated lower and kissed his cheek. "You can have a better one when you get back. All right, Wiggins, let's go."

"I shudder to think what yours is!" Mrs. Hudson said tartly to Moran. Both adults were already dusted and in the air, the landlady clinging distastefully to the Colonel's arm. "Doctor, you tell that boy of mine that getting himself killed won't get him out of paying the rent!"

Watson had to grin. "I will! All right, boys, who's next?"


Another shot from the Sharpshooter ripped through the sails just as Wiggins and Moran returned, by which time most of the Irregulars were bobbing and zipping around the hold like oversized bluebottles. Only the two youngest, Jimmy and Felix, were still too dazed to fly alone, even with a generous dusting.

"Take them all together," Watson instructed the pair as Mycroft lifted Felix into Moran's arms, while Wiggins hoisted Jimmy onto his own back. "I don't want to drag this out any longer than we have to."

Moran nodded, and took a brace of revolvers out of his coat pockets, handing one to each brother. "There won't be any more shots, at least, this tub's almost dead in the air. If you two have unfinished business up there, now's the time."

"We certainly do," Mycroft rumbled ominously, making the hair stand up on Watson's neck. He had never heard the man sound so... well, so dangerous before!

"Boys, it's time to go! Report to Mrs. Watson. And Wiggins," the doctor said solemnly, "you've been an absolute hero, but this isn't your fight. I need you to watch over them all on the other ship – for Holmes's sake," he added as the boy's eyes glinted in rebellion. "Go on, now."

"Gentlemen." Moran inclined his head in lieu of a salute. "Oh, and if you get the chance... remind Holmes of our appointment."

"What... What appointment?" But the Colonel was already leading the flock of Irregulars away, leaving the two brothers alone. Well, not quite alone; Watson suddenly saw out of the corner of his eye that Nichols had regained consciousness and was scrambling up the forehatch ladder. "That seems like our cue, Mycroft, wouldn't you say?"

"It does indeed, John. After you."


Author's note to earlier readers: To make easier reading, I've rearranged some scenes so the timeline jumps around less, and grouped chapters together. Sorry for any confusion, but no actual content has been lost!