The Reichenbach Plan

Chapter Two: Old Friends and New Enemies

Watson was just about to open the door to 221 when he heard his name being called out. He turned to find a man about his age advancing as fast as a bad leg and a walking stick would carry him. John stared at the face for a second before a grin plastered his face. "Nathan Sinclair, how are you? What are you doing here?" The young Sinclair smiled, "Actually coming to see your roommate, or ...is there something more to it?" Watson shuddered again, "No. Just roommates, I actually have a girlfriend in town." Sinclair's laughed as he punched John on the shoulder, "Just kidding you John, after a few weekend liberties in those Mediterranean ports...." John smirked at the memories, but he shook his head to bring it back to the present. "What do you need to see Sherlock for?" he asked as they mounted the stairs to 221b.
John paused at the top and waited for his friend. His upper body had filled out considerably, the result of handling the weight his leg couldn't. His face, once lean and angular had filled to a more round appearance. His eyes still maintained their fierce look, a look that Watson also now recognized in Sherlock. He thought back to that day in Afghanistan. His unit had been stationed to guard a well, as well as protect some members of the Red Cross. Nathan had been a reporter, embedded with the unit, sent to report on the humanitarian efforts. Several boys would pass by on their way to a school set up by the Americans. Some days they would bat a football back in forth, occasionally kicking it to one of the soldiers who stood guard. One day a IED was placed in the ball. Nathan had been the first to notice it and kicked the ball away from the soldier. Watson had been able to save Nathan's life, but not his leg.
Watson walked into the flat, motioned to his chair, and then walked into the kitchen. He opened the fridge to get the milk and was confronted by an arm complete with pointing finger. "Oh dear God," he exclaimed. Sinclair bounded from the chair, only to almost fall over in the speed of his ascension. Regaining his balance, he walked into the kitchen and stared down at the arm. "If you are trying to save it, John, I'm afraid, like my leg, it's too far gone." They both laughed and walked back into the living room to wait for the kettle to boil.
A few minutes later, Holmes walked into the apartment and glanced at the two men who had started remind each other of different leaves.  "Good Afternoon, Mr. Sinclair, I assume you are here to discuss the Adair murder. Sinclair glanced up with veiled eyes. "My walking stick, Mr. Holmes?" Holmes nodded, and Sinclair handed the stick to the puzzled John. It was a heavy wooden stick, topped with a ball made smooth by constant contact. Below the ball was a small plaque with an inscription: To N. Sinclair, For invaluable service. Sir Ronald Adair, MP. John glanced up, "I didn't realize you knew the victim, my sympathies" John said sadly. Nathan nodded his thanks and then tuned to Holmes.
"My job with Adair consisted of gathering information, sometimes from unofficial sources. I also helped him verify information from those sources. Ronald was not like a most members of Parliament. He wanted a better Britain, both country and people. Recently, several companies made a small fortune off the Navy's new destroyer contract. Ronald was convinced that these companies had connections to someone in Parliament, but the official investigation by the Financial Conduct Authority revealed nothing." He reached into his coat and pulled out an envelope with Sherlock's name on it. "Ronald gave me this and told me to get it to you if something happened. I was interviewed by Scotland Yard this morning, I did not tell Lestrade about it because Ronald told me not to." At this an orgasmic sigh escaped into the room. John looked perturbed, Holmes looked unashamed, and Nathan looked impish. "I know you enjoy a good case, Mr. Holmes, but I didn't think you thought like that!" With a growl, Holmes grabbed the envelope from his hand, and proceeded to scan the papers. It appeared to be random letters, both English and Greek. Holmes smiled, and turned toward Nathan. "My brother gave you this?" Nathan assumed a look of innocence, "That is all Ronald's work, using a special encryption. Where he got it..." he started to motion with his chin towards Mycroft's picture, "...I can't confirm. Before you ask, Ronald was asked by that certain party not to involve him, for sake of plausible deniability." Holmes chuckled, "it should be his middle name." Holmes's mind palace was already decrypting the notes.
Nathan rose from his chair, "I have taken up so much of your time, thank you" he said before turning to John. "We need to catch up over a pint." John nodded and Nathan walked toward the door. "Mr. Sinclair, from my own connections I know Sir Ronald was a loud defender of our veterans, especially the homeless ones. Are you familiar with a man, missing both legs, shrapnel damage to his face, quick wit?" Sinclair smiled, "Hugh Boon, his favorite haunt is on my way home. He and I have shared war wound stories. Ronald offered him a job, even offered to pay for posthetics, but he refused. Why do you ask?" Holmes turned solemn, "let him know, I will look into the Parker case." A puzzled look came over Sinclair's face, "I read about that case. He was the Sotherby Strangler. Why would you be interested in the case of a strangler getting murdered?" Holmes looked at him with a fierce fire.

"He is a small piece in a larger puzzle"