"So…he's gone? There's nothing we can do?"

Q sighed. "I'm afraid not, Doctor Watson."

John looked down at his hands. He was sure Sherlock hadn't missed it the last couple of days. The slight tremor that had returned after so long. Moran had brought with him memories and emotions that John had long ago buried. That combined with his having to settle down for a bit was bringing back the itch he'd had when Sherlock Holmes and he had first met.

"We could follow him."

Sherlock resisted the urge to scoff. "We can't, John. He's already in America. There's nothing we can do now unless he decides to come back."

John didn't mask the annoyance he felt. "Damn. I really wanted to bring down the bastard myself. Now who's going to get him? The CIA? Bloody Americans can't tell their arses from their elbows!" He shook his head. "Does Mycroft have any, you know, connections?"

Sherlock and Q exchanged a look.

"What? What is it?" John asked.

"Nothing. Q! Isn't it time you got going?" Sherlock said, swinging his slippered down from the table.

Q stood, clearing his throat. "Er, yes. You're right, Sherlock. Look at the time! It was nice meeting you, Doctor Watson."

"Um, yes, you, too," John replied as Sherlock ushered Q out the door. "What the bloody hell was all that?" he asked once Sherlock had closed the apartment door.

"I don't know what you're talking about, John."

John rolled his eyes.


Mycroft waited impatiently while the phone rang. Finally, someone answered.


"Hello, secretary. I've just called to cash in an old favor," Mycroft said.

There was a slight pause. "What can I do for you, Mister Holmes?"

"There's someone on a flight to San Francisco. Sebastian Moran. I need him detained and then I'll send in my men to question him. He's dangerous. I need someone whose ability I can rely on."

"You mean…" the secretary started.

"Yes. I mean Hunt," Mycroft confirmed.

"I'll see what I can do."