Sherlock - The Game Is On!

The Six Thatchers- Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen

Walking behind the two police officers, I hold Rosie close whilst kicking one officer down and punching the other out. Readjusting the hoist, I walk into the home. "That was something I didn't theorise would happen." I muttered referring to Ajay's death. Pouring the milk powder into the bottle, I feed it to Rosie before turning to greet everyone: "Hey guys."

"You brought Rosie with you?" John questions. "Of course. She's such a good baby." I cooed. "Michelle, I've never seen her so calm." Mary deadpanned. "If you say so." I agree to disagree. Looking away from the little girl I look towards everyone else in the room. "What?"

The Watsons smile towards their sleeping babe and Sherlock stares to me with a a fiery passion in his eyes. I look down to Rosie again feeling red tint my cheeks before awkwardly coughing. "Anyhow, you all ready to go home?"

Unclipping Rosie, Mary is quick to take a hold of her feeding her the rest of the bottle. A handful of agents come through to collect Ajay. "Who are they?"

"John, these are MI5 agents that work under my belt. Mary, we can organise a funeral if you wish for him." I gesture. She nods sadly. "Well, we best get going." Linking my arm through Sherlock's we walk away...

Walking up the stairs of the jet, everyone begins to look in wonder. "I've never seen anything like this before." Mary murmurs. "I should think so, I own it."

"The jet?" John questions. "No, she owns the brand." Sherlock answers. "Took me years to perfect the blueprints. It was a project I was working on during the good old days and I was only bored. God help the country, if I created this on any other emotion." Mary snorts in amusement. "This make of jet will be released next week to the Royal Air Force." I spin on my heel to look at everyone. "Well, get comfortable." I nod to an Agent and he fires the jet up. Mary and John sit in a aisle together, but face away from each other. I sigh out heavily.

Sherlock catches my gaze, he too, looking towards the couple. Opening his arms, I pull the curtain around us and climb on him, curling close. "I'm presuming you've upgraded this jet for your personal liking?" He cradles my head before propping the seat back. "Of course." I draw light circles over his chest.

We lay like so for some time. I must of fallen asleep at some point because when I woke up, Sherlock began talking to Mycroft: "The English woman. That's all he heard. Naturally he assumed it was Mary... No, it's not over. Ajay said that they'd been betrayed. The hostage takers knew AGRA were coming. There was only a voice on the phone, remember, and the code... How's your Latin, brother dear?" He breathes in heavily. "Amo, amas, amat." I love, you love, he loves. "Not 'ammo' as in 'ammunition' but 'amo,' meaning..."

"I think you're wrong, Sherlock." I mumbled hazily. He cut the call and wrapped his arms around me. "Then correct me."

"You're on the right line but I don't think it's who you say it is. It's something else... Something more and it's not going to end well." I turn my head to look at him with a serious gaze. "We can keep her safe, Darling. We will keep her safe."

Parliamentary Building - Next day

In a interrogation room, Lady Smallwood sits at a small table facing Mycroft seated on the other side. Sherlock and I watch through the one-way mirror. Mycroft's hands are clasped in front of him on the table and he is rapidly tapping one finger against the other hand. "This is absolutely ridiculous and you know it. How many more times?"

"Six years ago you held the brief for foreign operations, code name: Love."

"And you're basing all this on a code name? On a whispered voice on the telephone? Come on, Mycroft." Lady Smallwood scoffs in disbelief. "You were the conduit for AGRA. Every assignment, every detail, they got from you."

"It was my job."

"Then there was the Tbilisi incident. AGRA went in." Mycroft takes to sitting down opposite her. "Yes."

"And they were betrayed."

"Not by me." She presses firmly. Mycroft looks at her. She takes in a breath and sighs it out. "Mycroft, we've known each other a long time. I promise you, I haven't the foggiest idea what all this is about. You wound up AGRA and all the other freelancers. I haven't done any of the things you're accusing me of. Not one. Not. One."

Mycroft looks down at the table for a moment, then turns his head to look to his left. Sherlock, watching thoughtfully. Mycroft lowers his gaze and sits forward again, adjusting his jacket.

I leave the room and go to Mycroft and Lady Smallwood. "Sorry, to interrupt. May I?" Sighing heavily to himself, Mycroft leaves the room. Slouching slightly, I turn to her. She rests her head in her hands. "I believe you." I stated after a few silent seconds. She lifts her head. "You do? Why?"

"Elizabeth, I've checked records and files... Something doesn't add up." I vacate the seat opposite her, placing my work phone in the middle of the table. "Every detail and assignment was dismissed from yourself, correct?"

"Yes."

"And you were the only one that instructed AGRA?"

"Completely." She admits. "No." I disagree. "No?"

"Who was it that chose an ice lolly over making a paper plane?" Her eyes widen. "I believe she asked if they still do Mivvis. They still do, you know." I add thoughtfully. "Vivian? You're accusing my secretary?!"

"Not accusing, I'd never fathom the fiction to point the finger. I've spent the last twelve hours getting proof." Pressing the play button we listen to a series of recorded phone calls. I sit back with arms crossed reading her reaction. Hitting pause, I stand up. "Now that doesn't sound like you, does it?" I rhetorically ask. "Oh my God."

"She's out smarted you all. You're free to go, Lady Smallwood on the conditions that you keep up the same appearances with Vivian as before." Nodding her head she stands and leaves.

I turn to the mirror, crossing one leg over the other, holding the phone up.

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Now commence the action...

The heartbreak and the hell...

For one person will act on being the judge, jury and executioner.