Sherlock - The Game Is On!

The Six Thatchers- Twelve

Chapter Twelve

"Agra? A city on the banks of the river Yamuna in the northern state of Uttar Pradesh, India. It is three hundred and seventy-eight kilometres west of the state capital, Lucknow..."

"What are you, Wikipedia?"

"Yes." Mycroft smiles cynically, I sit back in the chair. "AGRA is an acronym."

"Oh, good. I love an acronym. All the best secret societies have them."

"Team of agents, the best. But you know all that."

"Of course he does but it's news to him about Ajay looking for Mary." I answer, directing to Sherlock. "Is it?" Sherlock turns to face me, disbelieved. Mycroft lowers his head and smiles at him in a sort of 'believe it if you will' way. "He's already killed looking for that memory stick. AGRA always worked for the highest bidder. I thought that might include you."

"Me?"

"Well, you are the British government and I have reason to believe your preferred pronoun is 'Your Majesty'." I state whilst dramatically bowing with my arms. Mycroft looks to me pointedly before relaying his response. "AGRA were very reliable; Then came the Tbilisi incident. They were sent in to free the hostages but it all went horribly wrong. And that was that. We stopped using freelancers."

"Your initiative?" Sherlock questions. "My initiative. Freelancers are too woolly; Too messy. I don't like loose ends, not on my watch."

Freelancers? I suppose I was classed as one when taking down Taliban. However, why did a Government Official assign Mary to save me through my torture period? Fair enough, I was a good Solider that followed through the ranks to become The General but when I decided to take down the threat against humanity as Sherlock adequately puts it... No one knew. I was missing in action. I was a spare piece. So, the question is, why would a Government Official go out of their way to save me? "Michelle?" I blinked a few times finally realising that I spaced out. The brothers looked to me with uncertainty. "Sorry, just something... Never mind." This raised their concerns furthermore.

Leaning forward, Sherlock writes on a notepad before sliding it to Mycroft. "There was something else; A detail, a code word."

"'AMMO'?"

"It's all I've got."

"Little enough."

"Could you do some digging, as a favour?"

"You don't have many favours left."

"Then we're calling them all in." I stated. Standing up, I began to pace briskly. "There's something, something deep, hidden. I have the mind of a hard drive, my mind runs on codes and data so why is it so bloody hard to figure this out?" I turn to pace the length of the room again with hands on my head, frustratingly. "I owe Mary and a Government Official my life for what they did whilst I was in Afghanistan and yes it is sentiment talking." I answered the upcoming question. "And if you can find who's after her and neutralise them, what then? You think you both can go on saving her forever?"

"Of course."
"Yes."

Sherlock and I didn't miss a sync out of beat from the question. "Seems that sentiment is taking over."

"No. It's just us." Sherlock replied flatly. "Difficult to tell the difference these days."

"That's a hypercritical thing for you to say, brother dear." I stopped my pacing and span on my heel to raise a teasing eye to Mycroft with my open accusation. Mycroft looks back at me with a blank expression. "We told you: we made a promise, a vow." Sherlock redirects the conversation "All right. I'll see what I can do." He leans forward and clasps his fingers together. "But remember this, brother mine: agents like Mary tend not to reach retirement age. They get retired in a pretty permanent sort of way."

"Not on our watch. Besides I went freelance and I haven't been permanently disabled. I'm curious though, why did a Government Official go through all that trouble to save me?" I raise my brow and twist my head. "The truth will come out sooner or later and I plan to find out."

"And whose this talking exactly?" Mycroft asks. "The Lady or The General?" Sherlock adds. "Gosh, you make it sound like I have a split personality. It's only Aspergers." I gesture to myself...

My darling. I need to tell you this because you mustn't hate me for going away...

A few days later, John came round and placed the letter from Mary on the table.

I gave myself permission to have an ordinary life. I'm not running. I promise you that. I just need to do this in my own way. I don't want you, Sherlock or Michelle for that matter to hang off my gun arm. I'm sorry, my love...

We began to plan a elaborate plan for us all to go to Mary when her location stayed stationed.

I know you'll try to find me, but there is no point. Every move is random and not even Sherlock Holmes & Lady Michelle Phillips can anticipate the roll of a dice...

"Funnily enough we won't be anticipating on nebulous moves she creates." I state pulling the computer to my lap. "Why?" John questioned. "Because we're tracking her every move." Sherlock finished.

I need to move the target far, far away from you and Rosie, and then I'll come back, my darling. I swear I will...

It took over a month for Mary to stay in one place in order for us to go to her. During that time I noticed John slowly becoming distant. In reality, if a loved one leaves to protect their family wouldn't the nearest and dearest be evidently worried, be full to the brim of anxiety?

I kept a close eye on John's behaviour. Was I wrong to do so? No, I think not.

"Boys." I holler. Both men's eyes snapped to me. "What is it?" Sherlock finished his notes before jumping from the sofa. I turned the laptop around to show them. "She's currently in Eastern Europe, northern Italy. However, judging by the time and lengths she stays in one place I deduce her next move will be..." I zoom on to the world maps screen. "Morocco."

"Marvellous! We need to get their immediately..."

"Already done. If you go to the airport now, they'll be a RAF cargo plane that will be more than willing to take the both of you to Morocco before deploying in Egypt. Just say 'Concorde' and they should know what to do. I'll see what I can do when you decide to come back home." Within seconds my laptop is tossed and I'm pulled into a strong wrap of arms. "Brilliant! You're brilliant." He purrs into my neck. Replicating the gesture, I reach up on my tippy toes to capture the back of his head. Lowering him down, his lips capture mine.

"Wait, you're not coming?" John questions, Sherlock walks towards the bedroom, presumably packing. "No, I'll look after Rosie. I know you didn't want to ask but I don't mind." John smiles, relieved. "However, there is one thing I do mind, John Hamish Watson." My voice begins to thicken with fury. "What do you mean?" He questions. "Don't play dumb with me. Need I remind you that you're a married man? 'To love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy law, and this is my solemn vow'." I quote. "Don't think I haven't noticed. All the signs are their so tell me the truth... Are you having an affair behind Mary's back?" He gulps and visibly pales. "It's not like that."

"Oh? Then correct me, Doctor? Or better yet correct it yourself because if you don't I will tell her and if it comes to the decision of separation I promise you that she will have full guardianship of Rosie and you won't see her until she's eighteen." I clench my jaw hard whilst he stares at me in disbelief. "You're not serious?"

"Why? Do you see me amused by this? You're a husband and a father so act like them because if it escalates and Mary does find out, you will be losing a friend in me. If you know what's good enough for you, tell her. You don't know what you have before you lose it." I dismiss.