TSOF: Revelation

221 B Baker Street

Sherlock paced across the living room for the hundredth time while John spoke to Lestrade on the phone. Anselma had been missing for sixteen hours and they were no closer to finding her then they were the five minutes after she had first disappeared.

Whoever had taken her had covered their tracks well. At first Sherlock had been certain Moriarty was behind it before John pointed out that Anselma would have contacted them by now. Even if Moriarty didn't want her to because he was wrapped around Anselma's finger and gave her anything she wanted. Hell he had stopped killing to please her. So, they were back to square one.

"Yes, sixteen hours Greg. We're going crazy here. Anything you can do to help will be fantastic." John listened for a moment, nodding to himself. "Thank you Greg." He hung up and turned just as Sherlock pulled out his phone and began texting quickly.

Mycroft,
Anselma is missing. Your help would be most appreciated.
-SH

"Who are you texting?" John asked. Sherlock hesitated briefly before swallowing his pride and answering. "Mycroft." He said shortly. John was surprised that Sherlock actually asked his brother for help, knowing that was one thing he had vowed to never do. It let John know how much Sherlock cared for Anselma and boosted John's hope of finding her sooner. Because in his mind no one was smarter than Sherlock and they most definitely didn't stand a chance against both Holmes brothers. Sherlock's phone vibrated before anything else was said.

Sherlock,
I am on my way. How long has she been missing? Where was she last seen? Give me all the information you have. We will find her.
-M

Sherlock's shoulders sagged slightly in relief knowing his brother would be there soon to help find his goddaughter. "Mycroft is on his way." He told John who stood and grabbed the pictures of the apartment off Sherlock's desk as Sherlock responded to his brother's text. He hoped Mycroft could spot something Sherlock had missed. That done he sat in his chair and waited impatiently for the older Holmes to arrive.

Three minutes and thirteen seconds later Mycroft stepped into the room. Not that John was counting or anything. "Why wasn't I told the second she went missing?" He asked, only the smallest hint of anger leaking into his tone. Sherlock shifted uncomfortably and didn't answer. Mycroft sighed and held out a hand to John. It took him a few seconds to realize Mycroft wanted the photos. He handed them over happily. Mycroft examined them thoroughly before tossing them back onto the desk. "Those are useless. There are no signs of who took her." John deflated; losing what little hope he had left before a thought entered his mind.

"What if we call-" Sherlock immediately cut him off. "No." Shocked John stared at him for a moment. "But he could really help-" Sherlock glowered at the doctor. "No." He repeated. John looked to Mycroft who looked contemplative. "He could help Sherlock." He said. John stood up now that he had an ally. "They both could." Sherlock scowled and turned his back on them. He tensed slightly and John reached for his phone knowing he had won.

As he was dialing the number Sherlock turned to pin him with his eyes. "When we find her we bring her here. No where else." He said in a tone that brooked no arguments. John met bright blue eyes with his own amber ones. "Of course." He said.

The phone was answered on the first ring. "Hello, Johnny boy!" Was the exuberant greeting. John tried not to be jealous of how chipper the man sounded. "To what do I owe this unsurprising pleasure?"

John took a deep breath before answering. "It's Anselma." He said. John swallowed as the man on the other end spoke.

"What happened to Anselma?" The question was spoken harshly, anger thick in every syllable. "She's missing."

The other line went eerily silent before a soft click let John know the man had hung up. Lowering his phone Sherlock practically pounced on him. "Well?" He asked curtly. "I uh," John murmured. "Think he's on his way." The three jumped violently as the door to the apartment flew open hard enough to put a hole in the wall. Two men stood in the doorway. One was shaking slighlty with fury.

"So, who do I have to kill to get my princess back?" Jim Moriarty growled venomously as Sebastian Moran held tightly to a sniper rifle.