Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

John slammed into the grimy metal wall with a grunt of pain and a loud bang. He gasped, trying to get his lungs working properly again. His squad had been taken by surprise by a group of particularly hungry rats. Right now he had no idea where the rest of them were, and he was a long way from the temporary headquarters the Pest Control corps had set up in the abandoned lane of borrower sized flats. He listened for the sound of claws on metal, but heard nothing but his own heavy breathing. He took the moment of peace to assess his situation.
He had three crossbow bolts left, and one knife. He’d lost his short sword in the skirmish when one of the rats had nearly taken his arm off. He was losing blood fast, and felt as if his body were going into shock. In short, if he didn’t get back to base soon, he was a dead borrower walking.
John limped over to a slated grate, which looked out of the ventilation shaft and into the human sized portion of the old abandoned building. He and his team had come a long way while trying to clear their given sector of rats and roaches, and he knew for a fact they’d turned a few corners. Maybe he could take a short cut across the open area and find a way back into the opposite wall. John sighed in relief when he spotted a large crack in the far wall that looked very promising. Carefully, with shaking and numbed fingers, he attached one end of his ever present harness to one of the slats, and eased his way out into the open.

Sherlock had gone to visit the empty building to investigate a cold case Lestrade had given him. It was very unlikely that there was still anything around to be noticed about the crime scene where a young girl had been murdered two years prior but he couldn't be sure until he had checked with his own eyes. Most of the forensics team at the yard were morons anyway there was bound to be something they'd missed.
Suddenly a small bang came from the next room pulling him out of his reverie, probably a rat but if there were rodents it was possible some evidence had been moved into the walls by rats collecting items for their nests.
Sherlock edged round the open door slowly not wanting to startle whatever had made the noise.
His eyes widened in surprise at the sight of a tiny man making his way across the open floor.

John was disoriented as he stumbled his way across the open floor, he couldn't tell if the sound of heavy human footfalls in the hallway outside were real or simply in his head. He looked around frantically, hissing in pain as the room spun and his temples throbbed. 'Forget about it,' he decided. 'If it's a human, it's probably just some punk who's come here to get high. Anyway, high or not they won't believe their eyes. Just get to the wall. You'll be fine.'
Despite his heroic efforts to reassure himself, he felt a cold shiver run down his spine.
rats were a terror, it was true, and cats were a nasty creatures to be attacked by, but at least a well-armed borrower could stand a fighting chance against either. Humans were a genuine nightmare, and John did not want to meet one if he could avoid it, especially in his current state. Unfortunately, it seemed that whatever higher powers there may be were not on the tiny man's side tonight.

Well this was interesting! There was an impossibly small man, bleeding heavily walking across the floor. Sherlock quickly ran through a check of his own lucidity, definitely not hallucinating, it’s been years since he touched cocaine and he'd eaten within the last 24 hours. No this was really happening. Swiftly he made his way over to where the small man was and sat down cross legged in front of him, blocking his path.

"Well now, what exactly are you?"

John yelped and stumbled to his knees as the floorboards rumbled and groaned. Alright, this was definitely not in his head. There was a human and they had noticed him. He pushed himself up quickly and began to run, adrenaline doing much to compensate for his draining injuries, but it was a pointless effort and he knew it. Sure enough, seconds later John was eclipsed in thick shadow as the human stepped straight over him and actually sat itself down right between him and the safety the crack in the wall had promised.

The voice was the deepest he'd ever heard, and he felt the low pitch rumble in his chest uncomfortable. He stared up at the towering human in terrified awe. It's skin was pale, and it had an unruly mop of dark curls atop its head. It felt as if the humans ice blue eyes were picking him apart, coldly calculating and storing away information about the borrower it currently had under it's paw.
John stepped back, breathing heavily and trying to force his weak, shaking hand to grasp the knife sheathed on his belt.
"Just someone who's doing their job!" He called as clearly as his enfeebled voice could manage. "Please, just let me through."

Fascinating, thought Sherlock, the creature was capable of speech! This definitely required further study.
Leaning forward he peered at the small man taking in as much detail as he could discern from his observations.

“Just someone who’s clearly been injured doing their job!” replied Sherlock. “What was it? A rat? Yes most likely a rat. The weapons you are carrying clearly haven’t been designed to fight off anything much bigger than that. Though to be fair I don’t suppose you could really manage anything bigger. Hmm, possibly some kind of battery powered taser would work better…”
Sherlock trailed off already thinking of how to build a device that would be small enough for the man to maneuver when he noticed the creature starting to sway a little

“Are you quite alright? You’ve clearly lost a lot of blood.”

It was true. John’s vision was beginning to blur and he was having trouble feeling his right arm.
"I'll be fine," He panted. "If I can just... just get to..." He must have blacked out for a second. One moment he was standing, the next he was smacking into the wooden floorboards with his full weight, with no memory of how he'd gotten from point A to point B.
He grunted, pushing himself to his knees, his whole body shaking. It was funny, in light of his imminent death through blood loss, he felt almost calm about the human. Almost.

Clearly the tiny man had been injured worse than Sherlock had originally thought, he’d only just discovered him it would be terribly unfair if he died before they’d even had a conversation. There was only one course of action to be taken; carefully Sherlock reached out and plucked the trembling man from the floor.

“Right, best get you put back together then, yes?” he said as he gently placed the man in the pocket of his coat and went outside to find a cab.
Once on the main street it didn’t take long to find a taxi
“221 Baker Street, fast as you can” Sherlock said as he slid into the back of the cab.

John was just climbing to his feet again, determined to get back to base and the medical station therein, when suddenly he felt the human's long fingers enclose him on all sides and lift him up off the floor, as if he weighed nothing.
"Oi!" He managed to shout, as he was lowered into one of the giant’s spacious woollen pockets. "Oi, let me out of here right now! I-Whoa!" He frantically scrambled for purchase on the fabric walls as the man stood to his full height.
The rest of the trip was rather a blur, but John's heart hammered in his tiny chest as he felt the man take them outside of the building and eventually into a cab. He'd never seen the inside of a car before, and honestly he could have gone without knowing.
He'd just been kidnapped by a human. A human! Wherever his squad was, they wouldn't know what had happened to him or where he was being held, so there wasn't much chance of a rescue. And unfortunately John was not exactly at his best. He'd just have to wait for now. At least whoever the human was seemed to want John alive.

Chapter Text

Before long the cab pulled up outside Baker Street. Sherlock paid the driver and headed inside. Straight up to his flat and into the kitchen he stood for a second contemplating the mess in front of him, remnants of his last few experiments scattered across every surface. Sighing he began to shift everything into the sink to clear a space then gently lifted the man out of his pocket and laid him on the kitchen table.

“Just stay there a second I’ll be right back with a first aid kit”

Sherlock pulled off his coat and headed into the bathroom to fetch his very well stocked kit. He loathed hospitals other than the morgue and was quite used to having to patch himself up after getting into scrapes in his profession.

John pulled himself together when he was removed from the pocket. At first the light felt like a searing arrow through his eyes, but he blinked the pain away and tried to focus on where he was. On a kitchen table it seemed. The human stood over him, actually blocking a fair amount of light streaming in from the windows in the room beyond.

As the man turned and left John had the perfect opportunity to gain more detail about the room he was stuck in. He'd thought he was in a kitchen, and he was, but by the look of some of the equipment on the counter across from him, it looked more like a lab than anything else. His heart dropped into his boots, images of experiments and dissection flashing past in the theatre of his mind. He shook his head. No, no it wasn't going to come to that. Checking to make sure that the human was still occupied, John limped to the edge of the table, frantically scanning the walls and floor for any sign of borrower activity, past or present. If he could just find a wall entrance...

Sherlock returned with the first aid kit to see the man standing right at the edge of the table
“I’m sure you don’t actually want to kill yourself so how about you let me have a look at your arm?”
He placed the kit on the table near where the man was standing and sat down in a chair at the table as he opened the box.

John startled when he heard the man address him from so close. It must have been his near flat-lined senses failing him again when he needed them most. John clenched his jaw, but realised there was no point it fighting. Not yet anyway. The Human was right after all, he would die without proper medical treatment.
Without a sound of protest, without making eye contact, John limped away from the edge and sat down, hopefully making it easier for the man to work.

“What’s your name?” The man enquired in that low baritone of his.
Well, there wasn't much harm in telling him. The name wouldn't be much use to a human, borrowers not exactly being listed in the phone book.

"John. John Watson." he answered, wondering briefly if he ought to give his rank and serial number as well.

“Well John Watson, I’m Sherlock Holmes. Pleased to meet you. Probably should’ve done the introductions before abducting you but needs must when the devil drives. Take your shirt off please and let me see the damage.”

Sherlock leaned over behind him at switched on the kettle to boil, then took a bottle of Dettol out of the kit and poured a bit into a bowl.

John braced himself, but still winced and grunted when he removed, first his torn jacket, and then the stained shirt, parts of which had become caked to his skin with dry blood.

"Well, you wouldn't be the first human to abduct someone without a formal introduction." John grunted, trying to take his mind off his wound by talking.

The wounds on John’s chest and arms were extensive but it seemed at least the bleeding had stopped. The kettle clicked and Sherlock filled the bowl with the hot water. He filled a bottle lid with the disinfectant mixture from the bowl and placed it down next to the injured man. Taking some cotton wool out of the kit he tore it into small pieces and placed it next to the bottle lid.

“Probably safest if you do most of this yourself, I’d be as gentle as I could but I don’t want to hurt you any more than you already are.”
Sherlock started cutting a piece of bandage into small strips to cover John’s wounds once they were cleaned.

John nodded, far more comfortable with that arrangement. He was a doctor after all; every trap and pest squad needed one.
With his good hand, he reached for a bit of cotton wool and dabbed it in the cap of water, trying not to hiss in pain as he began cleaning away the layers of crusted blood. Despite his injuries, he worked quickly and efficiently while Sherlock cut out bandages for him.
Now that he had a quiet second to think about it, the man was taking his existence pretty well.

Sherlock finished cutting the bandages and lay them next to john.
Leaning forward to rest his chin on his steepled fingers he observed the efficiency that John cleaned his wounds with.
"So you're a doctor then? But your stoicism in the face of danger also screams soldier, or whatever your people's equivalent would be. Clearly used to stressful situations where It's necessary to keep a level head. The main question is what are you?"

John had to admit, he was a bit impressed that the human had figured out his exact role in borrower society. Not so much that he was a soldier (sort of), but the fact that he was trained as a doctor, not just trained in first aid.

What Sherlock asked next didn't appear to faze the little borrower, though inside he felt himself deflate a little. Ah, yes of course. He knew the question would come sooner or later. There were procedures for this sort of situation, but this was the first time John had ever been forced to employ them, and he found his somewhat less than ideal medical state he caused trouble remembering the exact line he was supposed to feed his kidnapper. In the end, as the silence stretched a little too long and Sherlock seemed to be losing patience, John was forced to improvise.

"I already told you. I'm just a man trying to do my job. There's not much else to me."

The man clearly didn't want to give out any more information than was necessary, understandable given the huge difference in size. Humans were probably considered predators by this race of tiny people.

"Fair enough, you want to protect your people and so are refusing to tell me about them. How about telling me more about just you then? What's the job you were doing that nearly got you killed?"

John sighed quietly. He knew that of course revealing what he did could certainly lead to Sherlock drawing more conclusions about his people, but he also knew he was going to have to throw the man a bone at some point.
"I help to clear buildings of rats, traps and poisons, to make them safe to live in. The building you found me at was evacuated a long time ago due to a rat infestation. We need the space, so I've been involved in an effort to reclaim it."

“You need the space? A population explosion then? There must be a great number of you to require your own version of ‘manifest destiny’, so you live in groups then yes? The fact that you have a surname indicates that you do live in family groups. Anthropologically speaking it would be fascinating to study your society I'm truly amazed you've gone undiscovered for so long!"

John paused in his cleaning, his expression closing off completely. "Some humans know, but it's in their best interest not to advertise us too broadly. And there's no population explosion. It's just that some parts of the city are too dangerous for us now." It was true, if anything, their numbers were diminishing. The fact was, Humans were starting to notice them, and more and more ‘Innies’ were starting to move to the country, risking the foxes and owls all in a bid to avoid humans.
Even as a member of Trap and Pest, John only had the rumours and hushed horror stories to go on, but as far as he could tell, it seemed a new underground sport was was starting to develop among some of the less charitable humans. He'd heard many different versions of it, but the name was always the same. The Rat Race.

Sherlock began to feel a bit guilty about ‘kidnapping’ this small man now, even if his intentions were good. John was clearly uncomfortable being around a human, probably never having a positive experience with one at all. Sherlock was determined to show him that not all humans were evil, though to be fair most of them are idiots.

“Would you like something to eat before we head back? I don’t eat often but I’m sure there must be something that would suffice”

Sherlock stood and crossed the kitchen opening the fridge to search for something edible

John blinked in surprise. The conversation had certainly switched gears quickly. Also, heading back? Was Sherlock actually going to return him to the building he'd him in? That was... unusual. His eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Wait, just like that?"

He'd been taught all his life to avoid humans at all costs. Things never ended well. This seemed a bit too easy

“Of course John, I’ve no wish to keep you here against your will. I’ll take you back once you’ve finished dressing your wounds if you like. Or you can stay the night if you want, it’s getting quite late”
Sherlock pulled a block of cheese from the fridge, seemed like a safe choice, and cut a portion into small squares. He put them onto a small plate along with half a slice of bread and turned back to the table john was sitting on.
“I would however appreciate it if you allowed me to take some measurements before you leave? Just your height and weight if you feel up to it, you are the first of your species I’ve encountered after all. I’d ask for a blood sample but you’ve lost quite a bit today so I don’t think that would be wise”
He placed the plate of food down by John and sat back in his chair.

John thought about this for a while, as he awkwardly tied off the bandages, stopping the flow of blood that had started after cleaning out his wounds.
He could certainly use the rest that was for sure. After all, even if Sherlock dropped him off exactly where he'd found him, John had no idea if the crack in the wall would lead him straight to the base. Heading for that entrance had been more of a desperate bid for life than anything else. If it didn't lead where he needed to go, and he came across another rat, he'd be lunch for sure.
Perhaps letting Sherlock take his measurements was a manageable price to pay for a safe place to recover for the night.
He nodded his head slowly.
"Well, I am pretty beat up. I suppose it would be wise to rest before heading back to rat infested territory. I’m curious though, what exactly do you intend to do with the data you get from me? If you try to publish it, the humans who do know about us will probably try to silence you."

“I’ve no intention of publishing anything, I’m merely curious about you. You’re a puzzle John and I’d like to learn all I can, especially since you are reluctant to even tell me what name your species goes by. Ideally I’d love to take x-rays and perhaps an MRI scan but I’m fairly certain you wouldn’t agree to that.”

"Nope not ever. You'd be right about that." John shuddered at the idea. Honestly, there wasn't much difference in physical structure between borrowers and humans, but that didn't mean he wanted to spend time in a human section of a hospital submitting to tests and examination.

“Yes, I thought not. Don’t worry John, I won’t subject you to anything you don’t consent to.”
Sherlock began clearing away the first aid kit and disinfectant but slipped some of the blood soaked cotton into a small evidence bag. He would be able to examine the blood sample later at St. Barts.

John might have protested if he'd noticed Sherlock surreptitiously bagging the bloodied cotton, but as it was, he was exhausted, dehydrated, and finally taking an interest in the food Sherlock had provided for him.
He broke off a small portion of bread and cheese and began to eat, taking small bites so as not to overload his weakened system. He glanced around the room again, wondering about the human who had abducted and possibly saved him.

"So, what is it exactly that you do, Mr Holmes?" He asked. Well, it was only fair that he get to ask a few questions himself, wasn't it?

“I’m a consulting detective, the only one in the world. I invented the job. When the police are out of their depth, which is always, they consult me. I observe when others merely see and make deductions based on that”

"Oh... Well, I guess that explains a bit." It was about all he could think of to say. That was a strange thought. As far as he knew, no Borrower had ever been caught by someone in law enforcement. He wondered how it worked for humans, who didn't have to worry about keeping hidden from humans as well as the criminals they were chasing.

“I was actually investigating a case when I found you, An eighteen year old girl was murdered in that building five years ago and the perpetrator has never been caught. Unfortunately there wasn’t anything else to be discovered at the scene of such an old case so I’ll have to go back to reviewing the evidence collected at the time and possibly re-interviewing witnesses.”
That was if Lestrade would let him near the witnesses, his lack of tact when talking to a victim last month had reduced her to tears and he was subjected to a severe dressing down from the Detective Inspector.

Something stirred in John's memory. He looked ponderous for a moment. He hadn't lived in the building back then, but he knew about the murder. Rory, one of the medical technicians stationed at the base, had been living behind the family’s mantle, and had been there when it happened. He'd told John all about it one afternoon when they'd taken some time to check the damage to his old home. How horrifying it had been, even if it wasn't a borrower being killed. Rory had gotten a good, long look at the killer.

"... One of the men on the same floor," John said thoughtfully. "Was it flat 207 or 205?"

“The girl was killed in flat 205, I’ve got the details of the rest of the residents in the case file”
Sherlock got up to fetch the folder from the desk in the living room
“Flat 207 was occupied by a man called Stephen Milliner.” Said Sherlock as he flicked through the file “He claimed he had never even met the girl who died as he had only moved into the building a few weeks prior”

John ran a hand through his filthy hair. "It's always a bit hard to keep the numbers straight when you live in the walls. We hardly ever see them." He tried to remember if Rory had mentioned anything else about the human he'd seen that day.
"Tall, I think. Had brown hair... Damn." he shook his head. "I never lived in that building." If he could only show Rory a photo or something, he could confirm or deny if Stephen Milliner was the man he'd seen. Though, he knew he could never convince Rory to meet with a human. Even if the borrower did agree, John would probably be arrested for wilfully continuing contact with a Human.

Sherlock was thrumming with excitement! he’d never considered the possibility of tiny witnesses to crimes.
“Brilliant, John! We could catch the murderer! Do you think if I got photos of the men on the floor you could identify him? Of course that would never hold up in court for a prosecution but if we know who was responsible there’s bound to be other evidence we could use to tie him to it!”

John held up his hands nervously. "Whoa whoa, Sherlock, I never saw him. I work with a man who did, but he'd never speak to you. I could get arrested for even asking him to!"

“Well that’s disappointing. Not even in the pursuit of justice?”
Sherlock could feel a full blown sulk on it’s way. Though at least now he did have a bit more info to work with, surely even with that brief description he could figure out the rest of the case.
“You mentioned that some humans do know of your existence, how and for what purpose? Is there no way I could gain this position of trust?”

"Trust?!" John couldn't quite decide if he should laugh or feel sick. "They know because they've managed to catch some Bo- er, S-some of us. They know because they buy and sell us! They've got a very niche market, and can make millions supplying collectors, perverts, sportsmen..." John stopped. Why was he blurting all of this out? What if Sherlock got ideas?

Oh. Not good.

“Sorry John I had no idea. I thought you would have at least a few allies. No wonder you’re so terrified. I honestly have no intention of doing anything like that. Though I suppose I already did, didn’t I?”

Sherlock didn’t often feel empathy but could certainly see what a terrifying existence these creatures had to endure.

John bristled slightly at the suggestion of being terrified, but honestly, who was he kidding? Though he'd kept a fairly cool head so far, he was scared, deeply.
He sighed, picking at the food in his hands.
"Well, as long as I don't end up in a Rat Race or someone's pet, I think I can forgive you. You did save my life, after all..."

“It really never occurred to me, though I suppose there are plenty of people whose reaction to anything new is to exploit it for a profit. It’s nothing humans haven’t been doing to other humans for centuries so of course it would happen to a race that would be so easily overpowered.”
Disgusted with his own species Sherlock sighed and stood up; the best solution in times like this was the typical British response to most occasions. He refilled the kettle and switched it on to boil.

“Tea?” he asked

John let a very small, very tired smile cross his lips. "Tea would be lovely, thanks." He was very thirsty after everything that had happened, and honestly, he didn't enjoy talking about the underground exploitation of Borrowers. Up until now, he'd never even met a human. But he supposed he was pretty lucky to be picked up by Sherlock, out of all the humans who could have caught him.

Sherlock tried to think of what could be used as a cup while he put two tea bags in the teapot and fetched two mugs. Toothpaste cap! Of course!
“Back in a second” said Sherlock as he filled the teapot then headed into the bathroom returning shortly with a triumphant look on his face as he turned to the sink to rinse out any trace of mint.
“Milk and sugar?” he asked as he turned back to the table

Wow, milk was a real luxury. It was extremely hard to keep it fresh. "Um, sure, thanks." John’s smile was a bit more genuine now.

Sherlock filled two mugs with tea and added sugar to both. He then added milk to john’s and carefully dipped the toothpaste cap in to fill it before handing it over.

“I have to say John this has been a most interesting, if unexpected, evening”

John chuckled quietly, accepting the plastic cap from Sherlock.
"For both of us, yeah." He'd never thought he'd meet a human, let alone one who didn't fit the extremely dark profile he'd come to expect all humans to automatically fill.

“I suppose we’d best find sleeping arrangements for you then, would you feel more secure on the floor? Or you could sleep in my bedroom if you wish? No rats in the flat I promise” Sherlock smiled

John sipped his tea, wondering how the drink felt for humans who probably didn't notice the surface tension as much as borrowers did. "The floor would be fine. Beyond that it doesn't matter much to me. Just as long as it's safe and out of the way."

Sherlock nodded and drained the last of his tea before standing up and heading into the living room. ‘Safe and out of the way’ he thought as he scanned the room. Ah! Under his chair, perfect. It had quite a high clearance but John would be out of sight just in case he had any unexpected visitors. He took his blue scarf from where it hung on the back of the door and folded it neatly then placed it under the chair.
“There you go, safe and out of the way” said Sherlock as he returned to the table

John looked at the place Sherlock had set aside for him and nodded. It would do just fine. He was used to camping out on thin cardboard mats on cement floors. The long scarf and carpet would be luxury itself. Not to mention that being under the chair would at least make him feel less exposed.
"Thank you, that looks perfect." He said with a grateful nod.

“No problem, you could do with the rest after the day you’ve had” Sherlock placed his hand palm up near john and waited for him to climb on

“Anything else you require?”

"No, thanks. You've already given me more than enough."John finished his tea quickly, stalling as surreptitiously as he could. The idea of willingly stepping into a Humans hand was actually pretty hard to come to grips with. But, if anything, Sherlock seemed trustworthy enough, for a human. Finally, he set the cap down and stood, limping over to the open palm.

Sherlock waited patiently for John to step on then slightly curled his fingers to give him better stability. He gently set him down by the makeshift bed.
"Goodnight John"
He grabbed his laptop on the way to the bedroom, Sherlock had no intention of sleeping tonight, he had research to do.

John bid Sherlock goodnight, and watched as the man stood to his full height and left the room. It was always impressive to see a human from ground level. Even if it did highlight how small and powerless you really were next to these creatures. When John heard the door to the man's room shut, he turned and limped under the chair. If there was a borrower family living here, they'd probably send someone to offer him refuge, now Sherlock was gone. If not, well, he hadn't been overstating the comfort of the arrangements his new human acquaintance had made for him. The scarf was softer and warmer than John had dared to hope, and as he situated himself in it, he couldn't help but think how grateful he actually was to Sherlock. Not so grateful as to trust him implicitly, but he'd certainly won more trust than the borrower had ever expected to have in any human.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

Sherlock spent most of the night trawling the internet for more information about this race of tiny people. There wasn't a lot available but he did at least learn that their name was 'borrowers'.
He was determined to find out more about this underground trafficking in borrowers surely there was something he could do to help out.

Despite the violent and frightening events of the previous day, John's night was actually very peaceful. It seemed his abused body was in no mood to entertain nightmares, and so his sleep was deep and dreamless. However, around six in the morning, his bladder did wake him. He sat up drowsily, remembered exactly where he was, and flushed in embarrassment when he realised the situation he was in. Why had this eventuality never crossed his mind? Well alright so he'd had a lot of other things to think about at the time, but still!
He stood up, disentangled himself from the warm fabric of the scarf, and walked to the edge of the chair. He assumed that there were no borrowers living here currently, seeing as it was generally considered a law not to leave a fellow Borrower in human captivity if it was in your power to help. But if he was lucky...
John sighed in relief, spotting a small seam near the fireplace. It would have gone unnoticed by most humans, but to the borrower it was a very promising sign.
Out of habit, John checked to make sure he was alone before dodging across the floor as fast as his body would let him, his limbs stiff and aching from his injuy. Once at the far wall, he pushed, and a tiny section swinging inward to reveal exactly what John had hoped for.
It was obvious that nobody had lived in these walls for a long time, judging by the cobwebs and general accumulation of dust, but that didn't bother him at all. In fact, it made this whole stupid errand that much less embarrassing. He reached into his jacket and removed a borrower made emergency glow stick, cracking it and lending a sickly green light to the dark space around him. He saw a ladder stretching up above him, and winced at the idea of climbing with his bad arm. However, it was either this, or relieve himself on the floor, which somehow just didn't seem right.
Struggling and cursing the whole way, John finally reached the top, and was chuffed to find an old metal security gate guarding a clearly empty home.
The lock was easy to open, being designed to keep rats and roaches out, not borrowers.
A few minutes later, John emerged from the borrower sized flat feeling much better. He was about to start the long descent to the ground once more, when he suddenly spotted something in the dark.
The glint of something mechanical seemingly drilled into the wall a few inches down the ladder. John frowned and lowered himself several rungs anchoring himself in place with his legs and using his hands to examine the machine.
It was very small, for a human device, though he couldn't tell what on earth it was for. It was installed in the wall, but didn't seem to be doing anything. Holding the tip of the glow stick in his teeth, John reached out and tried to pull the machine free. It slid out surprisingly easily, revealing a tiny hole in the plaster, through which John could see straight into the human portion of the flat. He examined the part that had been sticking through the wall, and was shocked to find himself staring into what looked very much like a camera lens.
Someone was spying on Sherlock, and now whoever it was had seen him too.

Sunlight started streaming in through the window and Sherlock decided he might as well see if John was awake yet. He stepped out into the kitchen and put the kettle on to boil popping a teabag into a mug. He then made his way into the living room to check on the ‘borrower’ as he now knew he was.
“Good morning John did you sleep well?” Sherlock asked as he reached the chair only to find the scarf beneath it unoccupied.
Oh. He hadn’t counted on John wanting to get away as soon as he could, he had offered to take him back to the abandoned building after all.
Sherlock sat cross legged on the floor by the chair with a look of disappointment on his face.

John nearly threw the camera away in his shock, horrified by the implications of some spying human catching him on film. But he managed to restrain himself. Sherlock needed to see this. He attached the camera to his his harness and began to descend the ladder.
Once he made it back to the floor level, he pushed the door open, and stopped, surprised to find Sherlock sitting by his chair.
"What the?"

“John!” exclaimed Sherlock upon spotting the tiny man, a genuine smile crossing his face.
“I thought you’d left. What’s that you’ve got?”

"Wha-" John was rather surprised by the reception, though he supposed if Sherlock thought he'd left that it made sense he'd be glad he was still there.
"No I just... I was exploring a bit. Wanted to see if any of us had ever lived in this flat before. Look... I found this in your wall." He unclipped the camera and held it out to the giant man.

“A video camera. Government issue by the looks of it.” He said as he took hold of the small camera examining it more closely.
“This has bloody Mycroft written all over it. That jumped-up fat git can’t keep his bloody nose out of my business!” Sherlock fetched his laptop from the bedroom and hooked up the camera determined to trace where the feed was being sent.

"Government issue, wait, what do you mean government issue?!" John asked, panicking. He'd been on seen on that camera. Must have been long before he found it in the wall too. Oh god oh god, someone in the bloody human government had a recording of him! He felt out of breath as he realised he might have inadvertently caused major problems not just for himself, but his entire species!

“Calm down John, it’s my twat of a brother. He wouldn’t dare make you public knowledge, he’d have me to deal with if he tried it”
It was definitely Mycroft behind it, the feed seemed to be going directly to his office. Sherlock pulled out his phone and sent off a text

[spying on me again, Mycroft? Surely you have better things to do than invade my privacy? – SH]

John was not nearly as calm as Sherlock was about the whole situation. He felt horribly sick to his stomach. "He doesn't HAVE to make it public to cause trouble! Oh god." He clutched at his hair, trying to run over everything he'd told Sherlock last night. What if they returned to the building only to find the government had swooped in and taken every borrower in the walls? Rory could be in a wire cage right now, about to undergo some sort of horrible interrogation or experiment!

Sherlock's phone pinged as his text was returned.

[Oh I can always make time for my brother. Interesting company you're keeping these days. -MH]

Sherlock growled as he read the text. He was not about to be pushed around by his big brother, Mycroft might have the whole British Government at his disposal but Sherlock was more than capable of exacting revenge when necessary.

[The company I keep is no concern of yours. – SH]

[Of course it is. Let us not forget the incident with Miss Adler. Your small friend looks rather distressed. Please let him know, from me, that neither he nor his people are in immediate danger. -MH]

[I’m not keen on the ‘immediate’ part of that sentence Mycroft. What are you planning? – SH]

[Now that truly /is/ none of your concern. However, I know how you'll mope if I leave this to your own imagination. Do you really think something as massively important as a race of tiny humanoids would go unnoticed by us forever? We've known for quite some time. If we'd planned any action against them you would not have had the chance to meet Mr Watson. The threat does not come from me or my colleagues, I assure you. -MH]

“Well apparently we haven’t revealed the secret of your people’s existence, turns out the secret is not as well-kept as one might hope”
[if you’re lying to me you /will/ regret it. – SH]
Sherlock sighed and tossed the mobile onto his chair.

"WHAT?!" John shouted, completely horrified. How could they know about Borrowers! Did they know about the betting pools and trafficking? Did they care? He sat down heavily, heart beating a mile a minute. Suddenly emigrating to the country sounded like a very wise decision.

Sherlock ran both hands through his hair
“Giving yourself a panic attack will do nothing to help the situation.”
He placed his hand palm up beside John again
“Come on, tea and breakfast and I’ll tell you about what I found out last night we might be able to help out some friends of yours.”

John flinched slightly when Sherlock's hand dropped down next to him. Tea and breakfast? How could he even think about food right now? He felt like his entire world, already a dangerous and terrifying place, was suddenly much darker and less secure than ever.
"What do you mean what you found out last night?" He asked, ignoring the hand altogether.

Sherlock sighed and withdrew his hand
“As much as I’m loathed to admit it Mycroft is right, Borrowers have been noticed. If you know what you’re looking for there is far more information available than there should be. It only took me a couple of hours to find out about an auction being held in London tonight, apparently there are 3 borrowers being sold to the highest bidder”

John's head snapped up, his eyes wide with shock. "An auction..." He said, his voice strangled. Why him? Why was he the one finding out about this? He was just a Trap and Pest worker. A doctor. Trained to fight various pests in tight, enclosed places, but what was he supposed to do about any of this? He couldn't fight humans. He was just one, small man. His head fell forward into his hands.

“Look, I have a plan,” Started Sherlock “I’m certain I can get in and out with the hostages before the auction tonight but it would go more smoothly with your help. Think about it, I’m just another giant taking them from other giants, they have no reason to trust me but if you came with me to reassure them I’m sure it would help. I know you’re still injured John but you’re also a doctor, I don’t dare think what condition they might be in”

John took a deep breath, then another, and another. He was terrified by the very idea of going anywhere near an auction house. Members of Trap and Pest were especially valued by those who entered their Borrowers into the rat race. He'd fetch a huge price, injured or not. But... If he could help, if there was any chance he could save someone else from being a human's toy, then of course he would try. He'd never be able to live with himself if he didn't.

"If I'm caught... I'm as good as dead. You do realise that, right?" John sighed again, running a hand through his blond hair.
"I mean, I'll help, of course I will, but just... I don't even know how far I can trust you. How can I be sure you won't abandon me in there if things get difficult?"

"Have I given you any reason to doubt my intentions? I understand you're taking a risk, they'll most likely kill me too if we get caught, but if it were you in their position wouldn't you want someone to at least try?"

Damn it. Sherlock had said exactly what he'd needed to ensure John's co-operation.
"Of course, if they do kill you you'll probably just get off with a bullet through the head." He pointed out morosely. "Alright, just, tell me what the plan is..."

Chapter Text

“I traced the IP address of the posts advertising the auction to a house in Croydon. It’s due to start at 9pm tonight, admission is by invite only and it seems to be quite a close knit community involved in this horrid affair so posing as a buyer wouldn’t work. Our best bet would be to get there before the guests arrive, find and retrieve the hostages and get out with minimal contact with the kidnappers.” Said Sherlock

John nodded and licked his dry lips. "I've never been involved in hostage recovery before, strictly Trap and Pest, but there will at least be an armed guard watching the hostages, both to make sure they don't escape and that no one tries to take them. Like I said, it's a multi-million pound business. They don't take security lightly."

Sherlock nodded as he stretched out his legs, starting to go stiff from sitting on the floor.
“Unfortunately involving the police would only complicate matters so it looks like we’re on our own. We should leave in the next hour or so to ensure our best chance of getting in and out before it gets crowded. Did you want to change your dressings before we go?”

John nodded as he stood. "Probably a good idea. But while I'm doing that, explain your actual plan a bit more. I need to know what I'll have to prepare for. I've got three arrows, my pistol bow, a knife and my harness. That's about it."

"Ok, come on then I’ll cut you some more bandages” Sherlock said as he placed his hand next to John again to carry him back to the kitchen.
“A high value auction like this is bound to have top of the range catering to serve the class of buyers this is likely to attract, we should be able to sneak in through the kitchens as there will be a higher than usual volume of staff coming and going. From there we need to find where they are being held, most likely in a room upstairs, a fair distance from where the auction will be held to reduce the chance of anyone getting hold of the ‘merchandise’ before payment is received. A room further up the house would also make it much more difficult for a rescue attempt to be made by your own people. Once we have located them if there is, as you suspect, an armed guard, our best course of action would be for you to distract the guard by looking like you are attempting a rescue then I should be able to incapacitate him whilst distracted. We can then retrieve the hostages and make our way back out of the building. Simple.”
Sherlock hoped it would be as simple as he thought, there was a lot could go wrong very quickly, and he couldn’t allow John to be captured after pushing him into this in the first place. They would have to hope luck would be on their side.

"Simple, right." John licked his lips nervously. It was an imperfect plan by far. There were so many things that could go wrong, but he had to admit, he couldn't come up with anything better.
"There will be Borrower traps everywhere, too." He explained gravely as Sherlock set him down on the table again.
"It'll be impossible for me to navigate inside the walls, if I or the hostages need to go to ground for whatever reason. The windows will be bolted shut, and running around in the open is obviously out of the question. We'll have to rely on you to carry us out."

Sherlock cut the bandages and handed them to John before getting up to make tea for them both.
“I’m sure I can cope with carrying four of you. Where would you suggest we go once we are out? I’m sure the hostages would rather recover with their own people; do you have some kind of medical base? Although I’m sure the repercussions for you, telling a human where your base is, would be less than pleasant”
Sherlock sat back at the table with his cup of tea and cap full for John.

John considered the possibility, pursing his lips in thought as he changed his bandages. Finally he shook his head.
"You're right that they would feel more secure back in Borrower territory, but if we went straight there, we could lead the kidnappers to a bigger catch than ever. There's a long abandoned Borrower flat in the wall behind your mantle. If we came here the hostages could hide and recuperate there until I can get a message to my superiors. They'd send a discreet escort to bring us back. That does mean we'd have to rely on you a little longer for protection though." He felt very uncomfortable asking so much of Sherlock, or putting this much faith in him, if he were completely honest.

Sherlock beamed at the prospect of enjoying John’s company for a while longer. He knew the massive amount of trust John was placing in him after such a short acquaintance was a huge honour.
“Whatever you think would be best” said Sherlock trying his best to hide the grin threatening to cross his face.
He certainly hadn’t thought that agreeing to look into a cold case would lead to such an adventurous prospect as discovering a new species and then taking part in hostage recovery in the space of 24 hours!
Sherlock stood up and started putting on his coat
“We should probably head off now to give us the best window of opportunity”
He fetched his mobile from where he had tossed it and stuffed it into his pocket before grabbing his scarf from under the chair, wrapping it round his neck as he returned to where John waited on the table
“Are you alright with the coat pocket again?” Sherlock asked.

John nodded, clearing his throat before trusting himself to speak. Once again watching his new human acquaintance rise to his full height was a nerve wracking experience.
"The pocket will be fine." he affirmed quickly. As frightened and vulnerable as he felt about the prospect not only of willingly letting a human carry him, but also of being a part of the mission to come, John knew what needed doing, and since he was now committed to doing it, there was no point in being timid.

Sherlock positively thrummed with excitement at the upcoming action, it had been far too long since he had a case which involved much danger, which of course was the best part. This adventure was certain to involve plenty of it.
Lifting John carefully into his coat pocket Sherlock made his way outside to hail a taxi. Before long one pulled up outside the flat and he slid into the back seat.
“New Addington, Croyon” he told the driver

Chapter Text

It didn't take long for the pocket to become too hot for comfort but among John’s other concerns this one was probably the least troublesome.
The short trip down the stairs had been quite the adrenaline rush. John had felt as if he were in a constant state of free fall, even though he was jarred violently every time Sherlock's foot connected with the next step. He was much relieved when the stairs were behind them and the human's steps levelled out. Once they were sitting in what John could only assume was a human taxi, he couldn't stand it anymore. He wriggled around in the tight dark pocket of wool, trying to shed his torn jacket. He seriously doubted the cabbie would notice anything, hopefully watching the road instead of his fare, but he knew Sherlock could certainly feel his every move, and it made him incredibly self conscious. Again, not that big of a deal when compared to the life or death struggle to come, but unnerving all the same.

What an odd sensation, Sherlock could feel John moving around in his pocket. John had been barely conscious when he first transported him in his pocket but this time he was completely aware of his tiny cargo shifting around in the enclosed space. He pulled open the pocket and peered in, one eyebrow raised in a questioning manner to see John struggling to remove his jacket. Of course it would be stifling in such a small woollen space but it hadn’t occurred to him. At least the journey wouldn’t take too long and soon overheating would be the least of their worries.
“£23.50 mate” the cabbie said as they pulled up outside their destination.
Sherlock handed him a handful of notes and slipped out of the cab, they were still one street away but he didn’t want to draw any more attention to his presence than was necessary, it would be easier to approach unseen on foot.
Once the cabbie had pulled away Sherlock quickly glanced around to make sure he was alone before peering into the pocket again
“Alright?” he asked

John craned his neck back as Sherlock opened the pocket for the second time. A short gust of fresh air invaded the stuffy prison, and John breathed it in gratefully.
"I'm fine." He assured. "You probably shouldn't talk to me until we're inside. Besides the fact it looks a bit odd, the kind of people who auction us off notice things like people talking into their coat pockets." He warned.

Sherlock nodded and released the pocket. He instinctively wanted to cup his hand protectively around his pocket but thought better of it, John was right he shouldn't give away his position in case they were being watched.
After a few minutes walk they approached the auction house.
It was a large building but not uncommonly so for this part of town, and as predicted there seemed to be a number of caterers going to and from a refrigerated van near the back door.
Sherlock managed to slip in unnoticed to the kitchen and swiftly headed out into the corridor before he next load of crates were brought in.
He quickly assessed the surroundings and figured which direction to find the staircase.
So far, so good, thought Sherlock as he reached the end of the corridor

Martha held little Tony in her arms, but wasn't sure how much help she was being. The boy had stopped crying a few hours ago, which was good, but he hadn't responded to much of anything since then either. Very bad. He shivered a lot. His temperature had dropped considerably since the reality of their situation had sunk in for the six year old boy. Shock, it would seem. She sighed quietly. He was too young to have to go through anything like this. He'd probably be auctioned off alone too. The young woman wouldn't be able to comfort him once his number was called, and neither would the other Borrower who had been nabbed with them.
Walter stalked up and down the glass case, constantly scrutinising the walls and muttering to himself, trying to figure some way out of this cage.
He was a tall, thin man, and was in fact Tony's uncle. Martha was a family friend, and had been called in to stay with the family a few days when the young boy had come down with a very bad flu.
Tony had been on the mend for the last few days, but it hardly seemed like there was any point now. Who knew how long he'd survive, now he was nothing more than a human's play thing.

"Oi! You there, big baldy with the blank expression!" Walter shouted up at the human guard, trying to provoke some sort of reaction for the third or fourth time now.
The guard glanced down at the glass case with an annoyed expression on its colossal face.
"No in-flight movie? No peanuts? Not even a magazine to read? You call this service? Tell you what I'm never recommending this place to my friends."
The human made a silent gesture which conveyed exactly what he thought of the tiny man's opinions.
Walter sniffed derisively. "Rude." He muttered before resuming his pacing. Martha sighed again. Barring a miracle, there was no way they were getting out of this.

Silently creeping up the stairs Sherlock found himself in a hallway with four doors facing the landing. The only room that had light coming from it had the door slightly ajar. Sherlock peeked in through the small gap at the hinge side of the door and could see a large bored looking guard and a glass cage on a table behind him with three tiny captives inside. Sherlock retreated to the relative safety of the top of the stairs and opened the pocket to speak to John again.
“There appears to be only one guard,” he whispered “If I put you down on the floor could you draw him out? I should be able to take him whilst he is distracted trying to catch you”

John nodded without hesitation, his heart sprinting but his nerves steady. He'd been prepared for something like this. Wordlessly, he allowed Sherlock to remove him from his pocket and, once on the ground, took his pistol bow from it's holster on his lower leg, unfolding it and inserting one of the three bolts he had left.
The weapon wouldn't kill a human, not unless the Borrowers aim was perfect, which at this moment John's was not, but it would certainly catch their attention.
He'd make it look like a clumsy kill shot. The guard would see him, with his big old trap and pest badge sewn into the fabric of his jacket which he'd taken with him once Sherlock had let him out, and would certainly give chase. The only unknown after that was whether or not John could outrun the brute with his gammy leg.
"I'm ready to go. Get out of sight or he'll realise it's a distraction." He instructed, motioning over to a closed closet door in the long and narrow hallway.

Sherlock nodded and slipped into the closet pushing the door not quite fully closed so he could keep an eye on the hallway. His heart was pumping loudly as he waited for the oncoming action. He hoped he would be able to subdue the guard quickly and quietly so they could be out of here as soon as possible.

Walter was having another go at the guard. Martha shut her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. She knew he was just blowing off steam, frustrated by the fact that he couldn't figure a way to get them all out of here, but it wasn't doing any good. If anything, it would probably make the frustrated human’s job more satisfying, watching the loud mouthed Borrower shipped off with some new ‘owner’. Suddenly, there was a sort of clicking sound from the doorway, and the human, silent up until this point, let out a yelp of surprise and pain. He turned furiously, and Martha could just make out the figure of another borrower standing in the doorway, looking panicked, obviously having gone for a kill shot and missed.
With a hissed profanity and a greedy glint in his eye, as anyone bringing in a Borrower like this was bound to get a generous bonus, the guard gave chase.
Walter ran over to her and Tony.
"Martha quick! I'll boost you up. Trap and pest is here. If we can pop the lid off of this thing we can still get through this!"

Sherlock stayed silent as the guard came pelting out of the room chasing after John. As soon as they had passed the closet he wrenched open the door and grabbed the larger man from behind wrapping his arm around the guard's neck and gripping his wrist to tighten his hold and cut off the man's oxygen. After a couple of moments the guard went limp and slid to the floor and Sherlock dragged his unconscious body into the closet and closed the door. He then turned to check where John was on the ground.

John wasn't too far away, standing a few doors down, panting heavily. He tried to calm himself, seeing that so far the plan seemed to be working out.
He waved over to Sherlock, trying to indicate he was fine and ready for phase two. Sherlock scooped John up and headed into the room where the borrowers were being kept.

Martha had been pushing on the lid with all her might while Walter struggled to support both her weight and that of the heavy glass. Tony had come round a bit more now there seemed to be some hope of escape.
"Oh god it's heavy!" Martha grunted through clenched teeth.
"You're telling me." Walter grunted back. He was starting to go red in the face. Suddenly, Tony screamed, startling the man and the woman and causing them to lose balance.

Sherlock placed John on the table next to the cage and began trying to figure out how to open it. At least the hostages appeared to be in good health. He heaved the heavy lid off the top of the tank no doubt designed so that borrowers couldn’t move it on their own and leaned over the top.

“Don’t be alarmed” he said quietly, “I’m Sherlock and this is John, we’re going to get you out of here”

A new human had entered the room, tall, thin pale and dark hared. He strode forward with purpose, causing the three borrowers to back away instinctively.
The human man pried the lid off of their cell and leaned in, introducing himself and the trap and pest soldier they'd seen earlier, assuring them that they were there to rescue them.
Martha and Walter looked at each other, both clearly startled and edgy, but in the end, it was Martha who shrugged and whispered "Might as well. I mean what's the alternative?" Walter nodded in solemn agreement, standing to his feet while holding his nephew in his arms.

Reaching into the tank he first gently lifted the woman into his left pocket then added the man and the small boy he had hold of before scooping John back into his other pocket.
Sherlock checked the corridor for any sign of activity before heading back towards the staircase. So far, so good. Not much further now and they’d be home free.

Though it had been Martha's suggestion to accept the humans offer, it was still hard not to fight against the human's grip as he carefully lifted her out of the case. Every instinct she had was telling her to fight back, kick, scream, bite, but she suppressed these natural impulses and soon found herself sitting in the man’s dark coat pocket. Walter and Tony joined her soon after.
John nodded when the captives were effectively stowed away on Sherlock's person. So far the plan was going well. Very well. Insanely well! And that gave him pause.
"Sherlock, doesn't this strike you as being a bit too easy?" He shouted up at the human warily.

“It rather does a bit” answered Sherlock as he opened the door to the staircase and came face to face with two more guards on their way into the corridor. “Ah. Not good.”
“Oi! Who the hell are you?” shouted one of the men as Sherlock turned on his heels and ran in the other direction. He couldn’t afford to get into hand to hand combat with his fragile cargo in his pockets but he didn’t get far before he felt hands gripping him and slamming him forcefully into the wall of the corridor.
“Careful!” Exclaimed Sherlock at the rough treatment
“Check his pockets” said the man holding Sherlock against the wall. The second man groped in his pocket and withdrew a terrified looking john.
“Ha, jackpot” said the man holding John. “Look, one of their trap and pest soldiers”
Sherlock groaned and knocked his head against the wall. This was not how it was meant to go.

John resisted the urge to cry out when a large, calloused hand yanked him from Sherlock's pocket, dangling him suspended between three giant faces, two unknowns and Sherlock, who was obviously frustrated by the turn of events.
The same man rummaged in Sherlock's other pocket, withdrawing his other passengers
"Oi! Watch it!" shouted Walter.
The first thug nodded. "Alright I'll get these back into the box. You take care of him." He said, nodding at Sherlock

“Come on then, move it” said the remaining thug as he manhandled Sherlock back towards the stairs. With his arm twisted painfully up his back Sherlock had little choice but to comply as he was forced downstairs past the kitchen and towards a small windowless room. His hands were ziptied together behind his back before he was shoved roughly into the room.
“Where did you find that one then?” demanded the thug as he pushed Sherlock to the floor.
Sherlock merely glared at the man and remained silent as he was treated to the back of a hand across his face.
“The little fella will talk, even if you don’t. This isn’t some fly-by-night operation, did you really believe you could waltz in and help yourself to a couple of million pounds worth of livestock?”
“They’re not livestock!” snapped Sherlock “They may not be human but they are clearly sentient and shouldn’t be subjected to slavery!”
“They are little goldmines, and your pet will no doubt lead us to a whole new batch of stock for market.” The thug said as he slammed the door shut and locked it behind him leaving Sherlock on his own.
Sherlock struggled back on to his feet with his wrists secured behind him. How could he have been so stupid, it had been a grand idea saving a new species from a life of servitude but all he had done was condemn another to the same fate and most likely end up getting killed for the effort. The situation seemed rather hopeless

The child was screaming while the human thug carried his prizes back to the case, and right now, though the sound grated on his eardrums, John couldn't say he blamed him. This was exactly the outcome he'd been dreading. And though his own grisly end was looming largest in his mind, he also finally grasped the fact that Sherlock could be killed any moment. He might have been a human, but despite everything John realised he'd come to think of the giant as a friend, and wished he'd insisted a little more forcefully that they forget the whole rescue. The plan had sounded rather thin to him in the first place.
The lumbering Human, who was much rougher with his precious cargo than Sherlock had ever been, shouldered his way into the room holding a very familiar glass case.
"In you get. And stay put this time." he growled, dropping the Borrowers into the prison and slamming the lid shut. Once done, he unclipped a radio from his belt and pressed a button.
"Disturbance averted. Gained an extra bounty too. Trap and pest, the buyers are gonna love this."

Chapter Text

Of course! His mobile! Those idiots had been so concerned with checking his pockets for borrowers they hadn’t even checked for anything else. Shame he didn’t have a gun thought Sherlock, the morons would’ve probably let him keep that too.
It was a fair struggle to get his tied wrists under his legs and in front of him but thanks to his wiry frame and lack of concern over looking undignified he managed it.
He reached into his inside pocket with his bound hands, wrists chaffed from the ties, and pulled out his phone. The only question now was who to call for help, he really didn’t like the idea of anybody having to come to his rescue but there seemed little other choice.
Lestrade would be his first choice, but there was no way the inspector would believe a tale about little people being kidnapped. He would probably assume Sherlock had relapsed into his drug habits and was high.

Unfortunately there seemed to be only one option, and no doubt he would never live it down.

[I don’t think for even a second that you are not fully aware of the current situation. What will it take to have the bare minimum of gloating on your part as you get us out of this? – SH]

The reply came swiftly.

[Carte blanche. The next time I tell you to do something, you do it. No questions, no complaining. -MH]

Mycroft sent the text and sighed to himself. He knew a lack of passive aggressive protest was far too much to hope for, but a man could dream. He shook his head. For someone so intelligent, Sherlock really could be an idiot. He'd kept an eye on his brother's actions since he and his new acquaintance had left the flat, and was absolutely astonished by the recklessness of his plan. The mere fact that they had managed to get past the front door was a miracle in and of itself.
Well, he couldn't let this go on without providing an avenue of escape for his brother, and so he had a small force already standing by to raid the building. Plus, an effort to reclaim and return Borrowers from an auction house certainly couldn't hurt the highly strained Human-Borrower relations, in so far as they existed at all.
As a message was once again sent to his phone, this time informing him that the buyers had all arrived and the bidding was to begin in fifteen minutes, Mycroft gave the team his blessing to begin the raid, and sat back in his comfortable chair, sipping his tea.

[Very well, Carte blanche. Though I reserve the right to complain. - SH]

Sherlock sighed in relief and pocketed his mobile again. As awful as the prospect of owing Mycroft a favour was at least he and John would get out of this alive.

Alan Cook was sitting at his desk when he heard a knock at the door. “Yes?” he said loudly,
One of his men popped his head round the door
“They are about to start the auction Sir, did you want the latest one adding to tonight’s list or saving for next month?” asked his henchman.
“Just add him on at the end as an added surprise; the last thing I want is to give Trap and Pest a chance to attempt a rescue again. I still can’t believe we came so close to disaster, the security here needs one hell of a revamp. I will not put up with this kind of carelessness again.”
Cook made his way downstairs to greet his guests and oversee the bidding. He had made a fortune since his discovery of the race of small people living in his family home several years ago; it had been like winning the lottery and made him rich almost overnight. It really was amazing what some people were willing to pay for an exotic pet.
He smiled at the collection of buyers as he reached the stage in the auction room. Filled with rich weirdos who were willing to part with hundreds of thousands for the chance of having their own pet borrower.
“Ladies and Gentlemen” he began, “thank you all for coming this evening for what looks to be our best turn out yet! We have something a bit special for you this evening, in addition to the list of merchandise in your programme we also have available a Trap & Pest soldier. As many of you who have been in the game for a while will know, these are very rarely available for purchase and due to their training are very highly sought after. So make sure you don’t miss out on this special opportunity! Our first item tonight is a rather lovely young lady so I’ll pass you over to our auctioneer to get started; I hope you all have a pleasant evening!” He passed the microphone over to the fast talking auctioneer and headed down from the stage to get himself a drink.
Four to sell in one evening! A few more nights like this and he could retire. He smiled as he sipped his whiskey from the back of the room watching as his guests battled it out for possession of the first lot, this certainly was turning into a great night.

It was important for one who faced hungry predators regularly to know how to control their fear. You couldn't get rid of it entirely, of course, but you could put it in its place.
John watched with a stony, thousand yard stare as the group of humans eyed him hungrily. They'd been prepared to spend big money tonight, but now he'd been introduced into the auction, they were more reserved with their offers on the others. Martha was sold to a very unpleasant looking woman for 320 thousand pounds, while Mr. Smith went for 580 thousand. Tony fetched a measly 160 thousand, and sobbed the whole time he was on display.
Now John's turn was up, he could see the increase in potential energy among the buyers, and he felt his gut twist not in terror, but in revulsion. He had not been raised to think charitably of Humans in the first place, and if it hadn't been for his short acquaintanceship with Sherlock Holmes, he would have had no qualms about wishing them all dead in that moment.
The opening bid was high, and rocketed higher with each passing moment. It had just broken one and a half million when the wooden door across the room was kicked open, admitting a stream of black clad human men, swathed in lightweight armor and carrying very serious looking guns.

Cook dropped his glass in surprise as the armed men came crashing into the auction room. His own guards were easily subdued by the black clad men. The room was quickly surrounded as his guests were forced to lie face down on the floor. This was terrible, there was no way he could bribe his way out this time like he had whenever anybody official had come sniffing around before. Even if he could his reputation would be in tatters, nobody would risk coming to his auctions anymore. Alan sighed in resignation as he sank to his knees on the floor with his hands behind his head. He was ruined.

As soon as one of Mycroft’s minions unlocked the door Sherlock was trapped behind he came bursting through it demanding his bonds be cut right away.
“Mr Holmes said you were to be escorted back to his office sir.” The startled looking man said as he cut the zip ties from Sherlock’s wrists.
“Mycroft can gloat some other time” Sherlock said as he pushed past the man and headed towards the auction room.

For a few moments, John was completely bewildered by the sudden invasion. How had the human authorities known about the auction? Why would they care? Then it hit him.
Sherlock, of course! Hadn't he said something about his older brother practically running the government or something? Either his human acquaintance had managed to contact him, or the elder Holmes had suspected they'd try to pull something like this and kept tabs. Either way it was all he could do not to let his legs give out in relief when Sherlock strode into the room, slightly worse for wear, but very much alive.

Sherlock tried not to let the huge wave of relief he felt at seeing John show on his face as he approached the table where the four borrowers were trapped. At least he hadn’t been injured, just almost sold into a life of servitude.

“Are you alright?” Sherlock asked the group

John glanced back at the others. "A little shaken maybe, but otherwise fine." He looked back at Sherlock, noting in more detail the swelling and darkening of areas of his face, and winced in sympathy. Come morning the man would an even bigger mess of black and blue than he already was. He was about to make some light comment about his companions condition, when one of the armed men approached the glass prison and took hold of the handles on either side.
"Sir," he said, addressing Sherlock. "I'm afraid we have orders to take the Borrowers into custody."
John's stomach dropped.

Sherlock snorted a laugh. "Do you really think there's any chance of my allowing that?"
All mirth dropped from his face and his voice lowered "You will let go of that box and step back or you will sincerely regret it."
He pulled he phone from his pocket and pressed to call Mycroft, after everything they'd been through tonight there was no way in hell he was letting John out of his sight until they were safely back home

"The orders come from the Prime Minister himself." the soldier clarified, already knowing full well who Sherlock was and who would likely be on the other side of that phone line. Confident in the trained men backing him up, the man continued what he was doing.
John stumbled as the box was lifted off its pedestal, and shot Sherlock a desperate look.
This just couldn't be happening!

"I don't care if the bloody Queen ordered it I am not going to be separated from them again." Said Sherlock as he waited impatiently for Mycroft to answer his phone. "I'm coming with you if you insist on taking them."

The man didn't sigh, or roll his eyes, but there was a certain tightening of the skin around the corners of his mouth. He'd not been instructed to bring Mr. Holmes along, but he'd get into serious trouble with Mycroft if they harmed his younger brother overmuch. In the end, he decided he wasn't paid enough to deal with this sort of thing. Once they got where they were
going, they could confine him or something, but there was no need to cause a scene here.
"Alright then, follow me." he instructed, and walked towards the exit, the case of terrified Borrowers in hand.

Sherlock pocketed his mobile again and nodded. He followed the man carrying the borrowers outside, barely taking his eyes off the glass case

Eventually John, as well as the others, found that it was no use trying to stand, and simply sat, bracing their backs against the wall as the soldier carted them off to some new prison.
"Why?" the woman, Martha whispered, looking at John with desperate confusion in her eyes. "You came here with a human. You must know something about what's happening."
John shook his head, tired, confused, achy and otherwise upset. "I dunno." He whispered back. "Sherlock's not with the government. This definitely wasn't part of our plan."

It was unbelievably frustrating that Sherlock couldn’t deduce where they were being taken. One look told him everything he needed to know about the man carrying the box, 36, non-smoker, father of two and owns an iguana, but he couldn’t figure out where they were going to end up

The man carried the case out of the building, followed by Sherlock and a few of the other armed guards, and walked straight up to a big black SUV. Another man opened the door, and the next thing the Borrowers knew they'd been hustled into the dark interior, their glass cell placed on the middle seat. The man who had taken them sat on one side, keeping a huge hand placed protectively on one side of the case, while Sherlock climbed into the car on the other side.
Once the doors were closed and the vehicle was underway, Walter finally lost his patience.
He stood and strolled unsteadily across the glass floor and rapped on the glass.
"Well, are you going to tell us what the charges are? Do we get a phone call? A lawyer? Or do we go directly to a lab cage without passing go?"

Sherlock smirked at the little man’s comment; he was quickly becoming a fan of the whole race of borrowers. Clearly intelligent, and brave in the face of the unknown.
“He’s got a point, surely they deserve to know where we are being carted off to?”

The man sighed, obviously irritated, but gave them a vague answer.
"You're not going to a lab and you won't be harmed. I know it's a fairly ridiculous statement, but you can rest easy."
Walter nodded.
"You're right. That is a fairly ridiculous statement." He said in a voice of indulgent condescension

Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes, clearly this minion wasn’t going to answer any of their questions. He folded his arms across his chest and sat back in his seat, waiting impatiently for the car to reach their destination. He never took his eyes off the glass case, trying to work out a way of getting John back into his custody.

Chapter Text

“OH FOR GOD’S SAKE!” shouted Sherlock as the car pulled up outside the Diogenes club. They had barely come to a stop before Sherlock jumped out of the car and stormed into the building
“Where is he?” he yelled as he stormed through the silent room ignoring the uniformed men who looked alarmed at his outburst. “MYCROFT!”

At the sound of his little brother screaming his name Mycroft sighed and got up to open his office door just as Sherlock burst through clearly very agitated despite just being rescued.

“Do come in brother mine, don’t feel the need to knock” said Mycroft as he sat back at his desk

“Just what the hell do you think you’re playing at Mycroft? Rescuing innocent people just to then kidnap them for your own reasons?”

“Really Sherlock this is no longer your concern, you’ve had your fun playing hero now it’s time you went home and left this to the professionals.”

Just then the man from the car entered the office carrying John and the other borrowers in their glass cage.
“Sorry Sir, he was quite insistent about accompanying the little people and I thought causing a scene may create more upset for them”

“It’s quite alright Perkins” said Mycroft “Leave the cage and you can finish for the day.”

John stood up as the cage was placed on the desk and walked towards his new captor.
“I assume we have you to thank for stopping us being sold off?”

“Well I’m sure Sherlock would have thought of something in the nick of time,” Said Mycroft with a smirk “but yes I ordered the intervention”

John looked back at his cage mates, little Tony was still crying softly as Martha was trying to comfort him.
“Well thanks for your help but my companions and I really should be going. Sherlock, any chance of a lift home?”

Sherlock stepped forward and began to open the cage, the simple lock proving no obstacle and lifting the lid off with ease.

“Mr Watson I can guarantee that nobody in this building will harm you or your companions,” said Mycroft. “It was simply my wish that you be brought here to be debriefed in the hope of furthering relations between our species. We have long been aware of your existence but every attempt at diplomacy has failed. Honestly we just want to help.”

“We don’t need any help from the likes of you!” shouted Walter “Beans cannot be trusted and we certainly don’t need handouts!”

John put his hand on Walter’s shoulder in an attempt to calm him “You have to understand our point of view Mr Holmes, your kind trapped us and tried to sell us off as pets. I admit your intentions appear altruistic but it’s a risk we’re not willing to take. Thank you again for your assistance but it has been a very trying day and we could do with some rest.”

“Perhaps you could at least speak to your superiors about the possibility…”started Mycroft

“You have your answer Mycroft” Sherlock cut him off abruptly “They said no and we’re leaving”
He placed his hand into the cage and began lifting the borrowers into his pockets once more, storming out of the office as soon as his passengers were secure.

It was getting late as the cab pulled up outside 221B. Sherlock paid the driver and headed up to the flat realising that he had in fact neglected to ask the Borrowers if they were happy to come back to his flat. Once inside he knelt by the fireplace and gently lifted them out onto the floor.
“John tells me there is a Borrower apartment behind the fireplace, I’m sure you’d prefer to be out of sight in the walls for a while” said Sherlock moving back a little to give them some space. “In the morning we can make arrangements for you to go back home”

“We haven’t got a home anymore” Said Tony sadly as he clung onto his uncle’s leg. “Beans broke everything”

Walter lifted his nephew into his arms and the tiny boy buried his head into his neck crying softly “We’ll find a new home Tony, everything will be ok I promise.”

“You’re more than welcome to stay here if you like” offered Sherlock

“We’re not pets.” Said Walter sharply

“I never said you were” replied Sherlock “I’m merely suggesting that if your plan is to go off and find a flat to live behind the walls of, it might as well be this one. After all there’s no need to worry about discovery as I already know you exist but if your wish is to be completely left alone then that’s fine too. I wouldn’t seek you out and you obviously wouldn’t have to show yourself to me if you didn’t want to. It would be a lot safer for your child than somewhere unknown”

Walter looked torn, his entire life he had avoided all contact with humans knowing that they were dangerous predators. It was tempting but could any of them really feel safe with a human knowing where they were? Martha stepped forward and touched Walt’s arm gently “we could give it a try, we can always leave if need be. Tony would benefit from a bit of peace and quiet for a while, we all would” She said softly so the nearby giant wouldn’t overhear. Walter looked at her and nodded
“Fine. We accept your offer on a trial basis Bean. But I’m warning you, any funny business and you’ll regret it!” Walter turned to John “Where’s this apartment then?”

John smirked at the shock on Sherlock’s face after being firmly put in his place by the borrower. He pointed them towards the entrance in the fireplace and promised he’d join them soon turning back towards where Sherlock was kneeling
“Thank you for today Sherlock. There’s no telling what would have happened to them if you hadn’t insisted on a rescue mission” said John
“I’m sorry we had to fall back on help from Mycroft’s minions though. I’m sure next time will go much smoother”
John spluttered in surprise “Next time?!”
“Of course! Just need to be a bit better prepared, and some better weapons for you wouldn’t go amiss perhaps some kind of taser would work better than your dart gun”
John smiled at Sherlock’s enthusiasm. “If we ever do something that mad again I certainly wouldn’t say no to an upgrade or two”

“I suppose you’ll need to go back to the building I found you in tomorrow?” Sherlock asked trying his hardest to seem indifferent

“Yeah, better go and face the music. When my CO gets wind of what’s happened the last few days he’s going to be less than impressed. If I’m lucky I’ll get an honourable discharge for my injuries before they court martial me for consorting with a Bean.”

“Surely it won’t come to that?” asked Sherlock “after all you did rescue three people today”

“They take security very seriously Sherlock, it may not come to that but it won’t be pretty. I think that part of my life is over” John didn’t feel as bad about that as he thought he should. Being a soldier was all he’d known for his adult life but despite the danger he’d felt more alive in the last 24 hours than he ever had before

“How do you feel about the violin?” asked Sherlock smiling

"I’m sorry, what?”

“I play the violin when I’m thinking. Sometimes I don’t talk for days on end. Would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other.”

“Flatmates?”

“Well yes, and of course you could come along on cases too. If you’re not going to be a soldier any more you’ll need something to keep you occupied and to be honest, you’d miss the danger. We work well together and I can promise you won’t get bored”

Rationally John knew he shouldn’t even be considering it. He should go back home where he grew up with his parents and his sister, have a quiet life borrowing from some half blind old Bean. It sounded mind numbingly dull.
Looking up at his giant friend he grinned, “Yeah ok.”