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Chapter twenty-three – Rescue part two

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Outside the warehouse, Gary Morris and his team assembled and prepared to enter the building. He had personally hand-picked each team member and was sure of the loyalty of each person. When this was all over, Mycroft's department was going to be in for a shakedown of the likes never before seen. The GPS signal still blinked solidly on his screen. Mycroft, or at least Mycroft's tooth, was inside the building. Morris promised himself that if Mycroft was dead, he would personally target those responsible himself.

Four elderly members of the Diogenes Club had died of heart attacks in the invasion. Six others had been hospitalized, including Dr. John Watson. Specialists were still scrambling to figure out what substance had been used. Apparently, someone was trying out a new chemical weapon.

Mycroft's disappearance had been most troubling. Morris was relieved when he had been notified that the GPS implant had been activated. He looked at his team. He knew some of them probably would die today. His eyes fell on the newest member.

"Molly, maybe you need to sit this one out," the tall man said softly. "You are still relatively new to this sort of thing. I seriously doubt if Mycroft intended for you to be involved to this extent."

Molly crouched in the weeds outside the warehouse. She gave the man an angry frown.

"I am trained to handle this. I am going in there. Perhaps you should sit this one out yourself." She gazed fiercely at Gary Morris. "I know that you and Mycroft are more than meets the eye. You could be emotionally compromised." She paused then belatedly added, "Sir."

Gary Morris grimaced and had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. "Alright, you stay, but for God's sake, let's do this by the book, and remember I am the lead."

Molly nodded tightly. Rescuing her captured boss was not going to be easy.

At Morris's signal, the team of fifteen moved across the pavement and up to the back entry to the complex. Hardwick applied the small explosive device and with a quiet whoosh, the lock to the door was blown. They filed in silently, quickly dispatching two guards who had been alerted by the noise. They crept down a narrow hallway which contained offices, and arrived close to an open area, crouching behind some shelving. Peering into the open space, Molly could see not only Mycroft, but Sherlock as well.

"Oh God! They have Sherlock too!" Molly hissed as she grabbed Morris's arm.

Morris sighed, when John Watson had been discovered in Mycroft's office, he had suspected that Sherlock had been there as well. This was going to be tough on Molly. He looked at the diminutive agent. She didn't appear to be rattled. Merely more determined. Morris smiled. Mycroft could always pick the best recruits. Molly would be fine.

"Steady, Molly! We'll get to them." Gary's eyes were on Mycroft. He winced as he watched a blow land to the diplomat's gut.

Morris assessed the situation. Both men were tied to chairs. A heavy set bald thug was standing behind Sherlock's chair, his hands about the detective's neck. Another man was punching Mycroft. Sherlock was in the worst shape of the two men. His body was bleeding in a dozen places; his eyes appeared to be swollen shut and there was a good chance his nose was broken. Morris glanced about making note of numbers and positions of the enemy. That done, his attention returned to the group in the middle of the room.

"I know you are faking it Mycroft," the man in front of Mycroft Holmes jeered. "The effect of the gas has had time to wear off. Do you want to hear what I have planned for your brother next? How would you like an ear for a small souvenir of this experience? If you don't talk soon, I will cut it off personally. Perhaps I will put it on a thread and you can wear it around your neck?"

Morris heard Molly gasp quietly as the thug slammed a metal pipe into Sherlock's midsection. He could tell it was all she could do not to run to his aid.

"You don't want to do anything that will get them killed," Morris told her.

"I know," Molly said.

"Can you operate that fork lift?" Gary asked softly.

Molly nodded. She had been trained to drive an amazing assortment of vehicles and machinery.

"At my signal, make a run for the machine. Do you think you can it get over to the Holmes? The fork lift will provide cover as you set them free. Hardwick will go with you."

"Okay," Molly said.

He turned to Hardwick. "Stay with her. When Molly goes for the fork lift, you take out the guys doing the dirty work. That will give Molly a chance to untie the Holmes' and get them behind the fork lift." Hardwick nodded.

"Womack, you will take Sanders and Blake up to the balcony level and take out the guards. The rest of you, pick a target and go on my signal, It's important to take them down as quickly as possible so they don't have time to kill the captives. Remember, Mycroft Holmes is to be protected at all costs."

Everyone, including Molly nodded. She didn't like the fact that Sherlock was being considered not as valuable, but she understood why and what must be done. Deep in her heart she knew if it came to a choice, she would be hard pressed to choose Mycroft.

She leaned in and murmured, "You need a distraction."

As Molly leaned closer and continued to talk, Gary Morris frowned, shook his head, but eventually nodded.

"Yes. It might work," he agreed. He turned to Hardwick and began to whisper instructions. Hardwick nodded and headed back down the hallway.

Morris pointed to the guards on the platform above and Womack and his team crept back to the stairs leading to the balcony.

A few moments later, Hardwick now dressed in one of the dead guard's fatigues, pulled his cap down low on his face and pushed Molly forward into the open area.

"I caught this one snooping about," he said gruffly and shoved Molly hard enough to make her stumble.

"Sherlock, oh darling, what have they done to you?" Molly wailed in her most distraught imitation of a frightened girlfriend. It wasn't hard at all to sound convincing. Sherlock and Mycroft were bloody messes.

Sherlock raised his head and stared at her as best he could through swollen eyes.

"Molly," he said. His head rolled forward onto his chest and hung there.

Everyone was staring at Molly when all hell broke loose. With popping sounds the team took out the guards on the balcony. One of the gang took a spectacular dive from the railing to the concrete below. At the same time, Gary Morris and the rest of the men attacked the men on the main floor. Molly spun and crunch kicked a man in the throat. As Hardwick attacked the man closest to him, Molly made a mad dash for the fork lift machine. Jumping in the operator's seat, she adjusted several levers and started the engine. The electric motor was almost silent until she floored the foot petal which caused the engine to squeal in a high pitched whine as it lurched forward and careened across the floor vastly exceeding the speed recommended for safe operation.

As she neared Sherlock and Mycroft, bullets were flying everywhere. Her team was outnumbered and Molly realized the fork lift would no longer provide adequate protection while she freed the Holmes brothers. She made a split second decision. She adjusted several levers that controlled the hydraulic system and lifted the fork tines so that they were up off the floor about a foot and as close together as possible. She aimed at the two captives and rammed the tines through the lower rungs of both chairs. Spreading the tines apart until the chairs were securely seated, she lifted her precious cargo up until both men were suspended above the floor and rammed the lever forward.

"Hardwick, cover me!" she yelled at the top of her lungs as the truck made a careening dash for the relative safety of the cargo aisles.

Hardwick followed her, shooting over his shoulder to provide cover.

Molly drove the machine like a mad woman. She swung the front end back and forth in an attempt to make it a harder target to hit. Mycroft and Sherlock swayed dizzily side to side in their impromptu carnival ride. Reaching the cargo shelving, she drove down a narrow aisle protected on both sides by boxes and freight. Hopping from the cab, she ran forward to check on the men. Behind her, Molly could hear Hardwick still shooting as he defended the opening to the aisle. She quickly assessed Mycroft and Sherlock's condition. Miraculously, neither had been shot, but both seemed a little dazed from the mad dash to safety. Mycroft's nausea finally made itself known as he projectile vomited the contents of his stomach.

"Sorry about that," he said to Molly, and the first thing he did after she cut his bindings was to remove his pocket handkerchief and clean up.

"No problem sir," Molly grinned. "My driving skills have had that effect before."

"Remind me not to travel with you again," Mycroft murmured.

"Are you alright sir?" she asked. Molly didn't like Mycroft much, but he was her boss and Sherlock's brother.

Mycroft winced as he climbed out of the chair and lowered himself to the floor. A myriad of aches and pains were making themselves known. "I'm fine. Hand me your gun please and go check on Sherlock."

"Yes sir." Molly handed over the gun and watched as Mycroft limped past the fork lift and walked toward Hardwick who had stationed himself at the end of the aisle.

As Mycroft neared where Hardwick stood, there was a popping sound and Hardwick slumped to the floor and lay unmoving. Mycroft pressed his back against the cargo containers and crept forward, gun raised. Suddenly, he saw Gary and Koval struggling past the entrance to the aisle. He sidled forward looking for an open shot. He was not having much luck. The two men were clenched together moving around in small circles like a bizarre sort of dance. From this angle it was impossible to shoot Koval without hitting Morris.

Mycroft straightened. He hid his gun hand slightly behind his body and walked casually forward calling out as he went.

"Koval!" he shouted, "Here I am!"

His ploy worked. Koval paused in surprise for a brief second. At the same time, Gary slumped, allowing gravity to pull the weight of his body downward and away. Mycroft's arm came up and shot a very surprised Koval between the eyes.

Around them, things were calming down. Gary's team had managed to capture six of the terrorists. The rest were dead. Including Hardwick, five of Gary's team was dead. It was deplorable, but acceptable odds under the circumstances.

Mycroft bent down and helped Gary to his feet.

"I am most pleased to see you, Gary" Mycroft said. "I was not sure my implant would get through."

"It worked like a charm," Gary smiled. "I remember how much you complained when it was installed. Aren't you glad you had it done?"

"It was a bloody pain," Mycroft grumbled, "but perhaps it was worth it."

"Just wait until you have it replaced." Gary laughed, and then wrinkled his nose. "You need a bath."

"Yes," Mycroft sighed, "and right now I am so stiff, I'm not sure I will be able to cope."

"Oh, I'm sure I can help you with that," Gary said.

Mycroft blushed.

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Molly turned and faced the man she loved. Sherlock looked awful. She did truly love him she acknowledged to herself grimly. No one could look at the bloody mess that was sitting in front of her and say they loved him if it wasn't true. She swiftly unbuttoned her shirt and let it drop to the floor. Next she removed the tee shirt underneath. Wearing only her bra, Molly held the soft material in her hands and turned to face Sherlock. She realized she had an audience. It was only one eye as the other was completely swollen shut, but Sherlock Holmes was watching her.

"Molly what do you think you are doing?" Sherlock asked in slurred bewilderment.

Molly smiled slightly, "What, can't you tell? Why don't you deduce what I am doing?"

"Can't think. Hurts too much," he mumbled and spit out a tooth.

Molly sighed, picked up the tooth and popped it into her own mouth wedging it between her cheek and gum. It tasted terrible, but if the tooth were kept moist, there was a good chance it could be re-implanted. Sherlock was in no condition to care for it. The idiot would probably swallow or choke on it. The next best option was to place the tooth in milk. Since no milk was handy, it appeared that she was the nearest source of moisture, and so it was up to her to save the bloody tooth. She grimaced at the taste. The things she was willing to do for this man were endless.

Holding the soft material of the shirt to his face, Molly began gently wiping away the blood, so she could assess the damage.

"Molly, what are you doing? Why are you naked?" Sherlock slurred again.

Ignoring him, Molly stared into his one open eye. She didn't think he was concussed, but she couldn't be sure until she could get him into a brighter light. There was nothing to do about it now.

"Molly, what in the hell are you doing here?" Sherlock demanded somewhat irritably. Molly was being careful, but she could tell he was in a lot of pain.

"Shut up Sherlock Holmes," Molly said gently. "I'm saving your bloody arse!"