Garner's House

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“My friend is injured,” Sherlock informed, stepping away from the man’s grabbing hand.

“Don’t worry, Mr. Holmes. We’ll have medics tending to him.” The man gave Sherlock a sly smile and made to seize his arm again before Sherlock flashed him a fierce glare.

“Your license plate.”

“What?” the man said, lowering his weapon in confusion. He looked at the back of the car and then at Sherlock. “What about it?”

“You change it often. That’s illegal, you know.” Sherlock walked over to the license plate and played with it with his foot. Looking up at the suited man, he said in a lowered voice, “What is Mr. Garner doing in Peru?” his ashy eyebrow lifted and the corner of his lip moved up slightly. “I got a text from my brother. What is he doing with my brother? Is it for security reasons?”

Baffled, the man stuttered nonsense before the detective cut him off.

“You’ve been spying on us all along, haven’t you?”

“How did you know just by the license plate?”

Leaning in, his teeth bared, Sherlock seethed, “Don’t make me have to explain—your idiocy wouldn’t be able to even comprehend my intelligence! Now, Mr. Garner has my brother captive so he could spy on us through the London security. Obviously, you two didn’t make a thirteen hour trip from Peru—you were already stationed here in England when your ‘master’ left you. He was planning this all along. That is why Mr. Garner was spotted here recently by Tower Bridge in Bermondsey. He was stationing you lot!”

“Get him in the car!” the driver shouted impatiently.

Sherlock shrugged the man’s last attempt to touch him and boarded the car. Sitting beside Alana, and Charlie at the other end, Sherlock deducted the contents inside the car and smirked. He knew where he was going. Turning to Alana, who was stroking John’s bloodied head, he whispered, “We’re going to meet Charlie’s father.”

“How do you know?” Alana asked.

Sneering, Sherlock said, “Men wouldn’t dress that smartly if they weren’t meeting their superior. The car’s been recently cleaned as well—they’ve prepared themselves for a new beginning. This car has also been leased by a friend around London—someone who doesn’t work for them, bur probably is very close to one of them. Probably a family member or lover.”

“Quiet back there!” the man who had talked to Sherlock commanded.

Sherlock sighed and looked over at Charlie and then at Alana. Tilting towards Alana’s ear, he whispered, “Be careful, Alana. John cares about you awfully. If he gets a glimpse that you’re even caressing the thought about him--,” Sherlock nodded to Charlie, “then you’re going to be breaking his heart.”

Biting her lip, Alana squeezed her eyes shut. Mouthing through tears, she said, “I know. And I wouldn’t hurt him.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” Sherlock said, lightly placing his head against Alana’s for reassurance.

Peeking at their occupied abductors, Alana struck up a casual conversation with the detective. “How’s Molly?”

“She’s all right. We’re not—she’s not talking much to me. Don’t know what that means. She seemed excited about us.”

“Don’t worry about her, love. Things will work out.” Alana patted Sherlock’s shoulder, returning the same support to him.

The car pulled into a driveway and parked. As the abductors exited the car, the passengers in the back seat took a moment to look at the St. Mary Magdalen Church. The ivory white steeple could be barely seen through the thick haze.

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