Chapter Text
"John's been taken."
The call came in from Moran to Jim's phone moments before Sherlock's own rang. It was Lestrade. Before Sherlock could even answer, he knew the detective would be bearing the same news. The three men had been out at one of their regular pub nights and had, no doubt, all been together at the time of the abduction. Sherlock held the device to his ear and didn't bother with a greeting.
"Tell me exactly what happened. We're on our way."
Within moments, both geniuses were out the door and Jim was hailing a cab while Sherlock listened to Lestrade's explanation. He vaguely registered Jim giving Moran directions to contact his elite team, the Deadly Dozen, and call them all in. This was top priority.
"We'd just stepped out of the pub and turned the corner to head home. A black van pulled up to the curb and someone threw a flash bomb out, completely disoriented all of us. Some guys jumped out, three I think? They grabbed John and the whole thing was over before we even knew what was going on. God, Sherlock, it was so fast!"
"Tell me you got a better description than 'a black van.'"
Sherlock's voice dripped with acid, but he hardly cared. John had been taken and someone was going to have to pay for it. The least Lestrade could do, since he failed to stop the attack, was notice something useful.
"Yeah, yeah. It was an Express 2500. I think there was a yellow streak down the side, but I can't be sure."
Sherlock 'tch'ed and snapped the phone shut, peering out the windows of the cab as London zipped by. Without a moment's notice, he pointed to the side, across two lanes of traffic.
"Stop here. Now!"
His tone brokered no argument and the cabbie skidded to a halt by the curb, narrowly missing a sedan that honked loudly. Jim stayed in the cab as Sherlock jumped out and approached a man playing a trumpet, rather poorly, at the mouth of an alley. The detective pulled out his wallet, yanked out everything inside, and dropped it in the man's case.
"A black Chevrolet Express Cargo 2500 with a yellow streak along the side was involved in a kidnapping not ten minutes ago. There were at least 4 men involved. I want to know everything. I'm headed to Green's Feet now. You have 30 minutes and I'll double that amount."
The man had snapped the case shut and disappeared before Sherlock even slipped back into the cab. The driver gave him a questioning look but he only glared back.
"Drive, you fool, or the man next to me is likely to strap you into a bomb."
Jim's glare, despite still being on the phone, no doubt backed his threat and they were quickly back in traffic, zipping between vehicles. Sherlock snapped off a text to Mycroft with the description and a request for CCTV footage before settling back in the seat, mind racing. John didn't have a lot of enemies personally, but Sherlock and Jim each had their fair share. It wouldn't take a genius to figure out that John was an important part of each of their lives. Likely, this incident was directly connected to the media discovering that John was Jim's husband not two weeks previously.
Lestrade and Moran were waiting for them on the curb as soon as they pulled up. Jim flipped his phone closed and threw a fistful of notes at the cabbie before giving him a glare that sent him peeling away, tires squealing. Moran was already on the phone again, this time contacting the various members of Jim's Deadly Dozen network. Sherlock turned his attention to the Detective Inspector.
"I need to know everything."
Lestrade ran a hand through his hair, clearly distressed.
"I don't know what else there is to say. It was over so fast. I mean, Jesus, Sherlock...This wasn't just some crew that got thrown together. They were professionals; no way they could have gotten away so smoothly if they weren't."
"Clearly. Unfortunately, that doesn't narrow our suspect pool down very much. I have Mycroft looking for the van but the more information we have, the better. Can you remember anything else?"
The older man looked off to the side, staring into the distance in the direction Sherlock deduced the van had gone. His eyes squinted as he looked for answers in the air.
"The van…it wasn't waiting for us." Both Sherlock and Jim perked up at that. "It wasn't on the curb or anything. It came from down the street, but I never heard an engine start. That means they weren't waiting for us, right?"
"It means there was someone else involved, someone in that pub who was watching you. There had to be someone who let them know when you were leaving."
Lestrade nodded sharply.
"I'll get the place locked down. We can interview everyone still inside."
"Don't bother." Jim was frowning deeply. "If they're any good, and as professionals they have to be, whoever they had inside hightailed it as soon as he sent the message. No way he's still here."
"But maybe someone saw something! We have to try!"
Jim was about to deliver a withering retort when Moran ended his call and turned back to them.
"I've contacted the others. The twins are already heading to this location. They'll scrub the scene and the surrounding area. The Duchess is calling her contacts to get a bead on what the chatter says. If anyone has heard anything, she'll find out. D and Francisco are still in Berlin, but they're standing by. Jezebel is also holding her position in south London."
"And the others?"
"Techno is checking the internet and searching the VLA database for records of that van, but there are over 600 in the London area alone. He's doing what he can to narrow it down. There's not much Scales or Graves can do, though. Eyes is deep undercover, it'd take more time than we likely have to pull him out, but he's prepping an exit just in case. Spinner is at the Norfolk safe house awaiting orders with Shaw. They're getting an infiltration team together."
Jim nodded sharply and grit his teeth. Sherlock knew exactly what he was feeling. There had to be something more they could do, but they couldn't move until they had more information. Luckily, like a charm(or possibly the Devil), Mycroft chose that moment to ring Sherlock's mobile.
"What did you find?"
Mycroft tutted at the younger's rudeness, but wisely chose not to comment. Instead, he launched right into his information.
"A van matching your description caught fleeing the area by CCTV, but the video of the actual abduction has been conspicuously removed. All of the cameras within four blocks of the pub are missing their footage, though they appear to be running just fine now."
"So we can't be sure if John is even still in the van…they could have switched cars easily."
"Indeed, but we have tracked the van to its final destination, a warehouse on the south end. It only just arrived before I called you. Anthea is texting you the address as we speak."
"Keep me informed if you find anything else."
Without waiting for a response, Sherlock ended the call. Moments later, his mobile chimed with Anthea's text. He showed the address to the others and Moran was instantly on his own mobile again, relaying the information to Jezebel, who was mere minutes away. The rest of them piled into Moran's SUV, Moran behind the wheel. He turned the key in the ignition as he tossed his phone aside.
"She's going to see if she can get into the building and get a handle on the situation. If John is in immediate danger, she'll move in. If not, she'll hang back and wait for us to arrive. As soon as we get a confirmation that John is there, I can have Spencer and Shaw's team mobilize."
Jim glared resolutely out the window as the world flashed past. Moran was driving well over the speed limit.
"And if John isn't there?"
"The twins will be at the pub in less than a minute. They'll call in some contacts and do a sweep of the area. We're going to find him."
The last sentence was said rather gently and Sherlock had to grit his teeth from snapping back at him. This wasn't some movie or book where you could know everything would work out okay just because they were the main characters. That's not how life worked.
They were almost five minutes out from their destination when Moran's mobile rang again. Jim snapped the device up and flicked it open and pressed the speaker button. It would be better if they all got Jezebel's information at once.
"Have you found him?"
Sherlock noted the tightness in Jim's voice but chose not to comment. Any rivalry between them would not help the situation and he would not be responsible for anything happening to John. Jezebel's voice was hushed, obviously needing to stay quiet.
"I've got eyes on him as we speak, boss man. There are four men that I've seen so far. I doubt there are more. Do you want me to move in?"
"Is there a threat of immediate danger? Is John hurt?"
There was a brief pause and then they could hear some shuffling at the other end of the line.
"I can't be sure from here…he's too far away. I'm moving closer for a better look…Wait a sec-Woah!"
There was a clattering of the mobile hitting the floor and Moran stepped on the gas even more as the sounds of a struggle started up. A man's cry of pain could be heard and then more shouting. Moments later the call ended as the device was no-doubt crushed. If Sherlock had been on edge before, it was nothing to how he felt now.
The SUV's tired screeched as they slammed to a stop outside of the warehouse. Sherlock was out of the car in an instant, the others following close behind. He dimly heard Moran tell Jim to stay in the car and the genius brush it aside. Good. He wouldn't at all deserve John if he was willing to stand down.
The door to the loading dock was standing open, the inside of the warehouse still blaring light. It took mere moments for Sherlock's gaze to sweep the room and determine that the van was, once again, gone. He curse viciously before heading over to examine the body, half hidden under a toppled pile of boxes.
Blood pooled around his legs, the only part of his that was visible, and was splattered around the area and in a way that suggested a sword. Jezebel's crushed mobile lay only a few feet away. Presumably this man had discovered the young woman's hiding space and attacked. Sherlock would have to see the man's wounds before he'd be able to properly determine whether or not all the blood was his.
Moran and Lestrade were already working on moving the boxes off of the body. A positive ID could lead them straight to the rest of the team. He moved forward to press his shoulder against the final box, a rather heavy one sitting on the man's face. After a moment of pressure it fell to the side with a solid thump.
The man had light brown hair, cropped short on the sides and slicked back in the middle. His nose had been broken by the box, but blue eyes stared up from a face with bone structure Sherlock recognized. The slash from his right hip to his left shoulder had been his likely cause of death. Nails bitten to the quick indicated heightened levels anxiety and Sherlock's brow furrowed.
He quickly had his phone back out, muttering darkly under his breath. It rang twice before it picked up.
"Yes, brother?"
"I'm looking at Alexander Kensington's body."
A pause.
"How unfortunate. I'd had my suspicions that he'd turned double agent."
"And you didn't do anything? I knew you were lazy, Mycroft, but this is a new low."
There was a more than healthy bite to Sherlock's words, but he could hardly be blamed considering the current situation.
"I had suspicions, Sherlock, not proof. I was working on getting it and had assigned him to several less-than-critical cases recently to prevent any security breaches. It takes more than just a vague suspicion to justify what we do to traitors."
"Yes, well now he's dead and John's gone. I suggest you figure out a new system."
"Settle yourself, brother. You will be receiving a list of Kensington's known associates from Anthea any moment. He is likely working with one of them. One of his many shortcomings was not liking to work outside of his comfort zone."
"If John has come to harm because of your oversight, brother…"
"Well then, I would get back to looking for him if I were you, instead of wasting your time threatening me."
Sherlock angrily ended the call and resisted the urge to chuck his mobile across the warehouse. Rage permeated his entire being and his jaw ached from how tightly his teeth were clenched together. He breathed deeply several times before managing to relax the death grip he had on his phone to flip open the list Anthea had sent him. After explaining the newest development to the others, he held out the device to Jim.
"Do you recognize any of these names?"
Jim took it and squinted at the screen, scrolling slowly through the list. He paused two-thirds of the way through the list and handed it back to Sherlock.
"That one, there. Isaac Hankel. He worked with us once, specialized in kidnappings. Moran-"
"Already on it."
Moran had his own mobile pressed to his ear for the umpteenth time that night.
"Marcus, I need you to bring up the records for Isaac Hankel. They should be from about three years back…Yeah, yeah. The one with the dogs….Good, text it to me and get the infiltration team headed that way. We have reason to believe that's where they're headed."
Jim had already turned back to Sherlock.
"Hankel was a control freak, he had multiple locations that he would use during any of his operations, but there was a safe house he'd always go to if anything went south. I have no doubts that he's there, especially since he never knew we found out about it."
Sherlock nodded sharply.
"Let's go."
JWJMJWSHJWJMJWSHJWJMJWSHJWJMJWSHJWJMJWSHJWJMJWSHJWJMJWSH
The infiltration team was waiting for them just two blocks away from the house, a one-story building with a well-kept lawn. Spinner's tall, lanky form looked odd next to the group of five muscular men dressed all in black, not to mention the stocky red head that was Marcus Shaw. Spinner had a long sniper rifle slung over his shoulder, ready to provide cover from afar. The rest of the men were dressed to break down doors and get up close and personal.
Marcus handed an iPad to Jim as soon as he was out of the car. A picture of a black Express 2500 with a yellow streak stood at the curb. Lestrade peered over the consulting criminal's shoulder and nodded sharply.
"That's the van."
Moran took the tablet and flicked through the rest of the pictures, presumably of the house and the surrounding area.
"Let's hope John's there, too. And Jezebel." He turned to the team. "Listen up. We have two Priority Blue individuals that are possibly inside, Jezebel, who you all already know, and Dr. John Watson. His picture is here." He flipped the tablet around to display John's picture from his blog. "If either of these individuals are hurt, your heads are gonna roll. They may already be in need of medical attention. If so, you stay with them and call it in."
There were nods all around and they were soon swarming into position. Spinner broke off from the group to climb a nearby roof. Jim, Sherlock, and Lestrade hung towards the back while Moran led the team. The mercenary then threatened them that they could either stay in the back or they weren't coming in. There wasn't time to waste on arguing.
Moran opened the door of the dilapidated structure with a solid placement of his heel to just above the door jam. There was a splintering of wood and they group streamed in, covering each corner of the room before heading down the hall and further into the house. A shout of, "Contact made!" came mere moments later.
Jim and Sherlock quickly pushed themselves down the hall, desperate to quell the tightness in each of their chests. They burst into the living room to see the very man they had been so worried about sitting on the couch, calmly sipping a cup of tea. Jezebel sat beside him, with a cup of her own, and Mycroft sat in the arm chair across the coffee table. The elder Holmes smiled at them blandly.
"Well, you certainly took longer to arrive than I expected. Tea?"
He gestured towards the set still on the coffee table. Sherlock scowled heatedly.
"Mycroft, what is the meaning of this?"
"Quite simple, dear brother. I had a problem that needed fixing and John here was generous enough to agree to assist me."
"Ah. Kensington."
"Exactly. I had a third party contact of mine reach out to him about the job of kidnapping Dr. Watson. The rest of the men on the team were all mine. He was hardly ever in any danger. I simply needed to confirm that he was willing to commit such an act."
Jim nearly growled.
"And you used John to do it."
Now it was the blonde's turn to speak up.
"I knew about the whole thing before hand, so don't go thinking I'm just some unsuspecting victim. I agreed to it. Such a serious security breach in our nation's security is a major problem."
"Why didn't you tell us?"
Jim was edging towards his lover, wanting to check him over for any injuries. He really could be a mother hen at times.
"Top secret." John stood to give Jim a quick kiss. "Besides, it's nice to see you and Sherlock working so well together. I knew you would make a great team if you wanted to."
The two geniuses turned to each other.
"Yes, I suppose we do."