If You Love Me, Get Clean

Chapter Forty Three

February 2017

And I was burnin' up a fever
I didn't care much how long I lived
But I swear I thought I dreamed her
She never asked me once about the wrong I did
When my time comes around
Lay me gently in the cold dark earth
No grave can hold my body down
I'll crawl home to her

Just over two hours later Mycroft arrives.

He storms in, is body fizzling with barely contained tension, but his face is completely blank. Alice wants to hug him, but decides it isn't the time nor the place for it.

"Where did she take them?" Mycroft asks, his eyes lingering on Alice as he scans the room. He looks surprised to see her, his stride faltering for a moment, but he recovers quickly, returning his focus on Lady Smallwood.

"You should be with the medics," Lady Smallwood says, but gestures to the screens. "We're still tracking. They left the island in a boat, but it hasn't docked anywhere with a registry."

"They could be anywhere along the coast by now." Mycroft grumbles, his jaw clenching.

"They've called for help!" An agent flies into the room with a tablet, setting the device next to Lady Smallwood's laptop and casting the information via some kind of wireless to the big screens. A satellite map of England that quickly zooms in pops up.

"The Yard is responding," Lady Smallwood says. She's picked up the tablet, accessing more information. "Sherlock contacted DI Lestrade. Lestrade has alerted us. Our people are mobilizing now," she looks over the tablet at Alice, regarding her with a great respect. "Well done. If you hadn't gotten Lestrade involved he'd have had no idea to let us know."

Alice nods. "I know my husband. He trusts very few people."

Mycroft walks over, staring down at her, his hand hesitating before it lands on her shoulder. "Are you well?"

She offers him a weak smile. "I will be. You okay?"

"You know," he sighs. "Been better." He shakes his head, turning back to Lady Smallwood. "I should go–" Mycroft starts, but Lady Smallwood cuts him off.

"Not this time." She says. Mycroft scowls at her, but holds his tongue.

"Anthea?" Mycroft says, and his assistant nods without any further instruction, pocketing her mobile. She looks him over in concern, then offers a subtle tipping of her head in acknowledgment to Alice, and leaves the room.

"You should be checked out. They'll need to know what she used to sedate you." Lady Smallwood tells him.

"Fine," Mycroft grunts, gesturing to Alice. Alice frowns, glancing around the room as if there was some other person hiding somewhere in her general vicinity. "I mean you, sister dear."

"I'm not a doctor."

"You're a scientist. You draw bloods regularly. The crossover is more than enough for me."

"But–"

"You did two rotations in A&E, did you not?"

"Only as part of a branch course," she says, a little bit shrill. "And that was years ago, it hardly amounts to the same thing as a medical degree."

Mycroft waves off her concerns. "You're perfectly capable, Alice. Stop doubting your abilities. Should you so choose to take on a doctorate I do believe you'll complete the process in record speed. Now, shall we?"

Finding her words failing her, and with the encouraging gesture from Lady Smallwood, she decides to simply grab her holdall bag and follow Mycroft from the room.