Free Sherlock Holmes in 2012: TIMELESS DUEL by Mohammad Bahareth Page A

ever naming another son with the name of Sherlock.” He paused to let the remark sink in. “Therefore, and again, I will ask you your name, sir.”
    Sherlock looked around the table and soon realized that his brother was not about to divulge their relationship-a relationship that must have transcended time somehow. “Alright,” he relented, “I adopted the name some weeks ago when the passport I was given did not state my place of birth correctly.”
    “And would that be a British Passport?” Mycroft asked.
    “No. I was supposedly born in Wellington, New Zealand-and I must add that I have no recollection whatsoever of my growing up or ever visiting New Zealand.”
    “Well then, Mr. Holmes, let’s move on from there, shall we?” Mycroft knew the CIA or FBI must have been behind these shenanigans in order to entice Sherlock to move out of the United States as soon as his visa expired. They probably thought he was a terrorist himself, Mycroft mused, and he had no intention to dwell on the subject any further in the presence of these agents.
    Sherlock nodded.
    Mycroft looked around the table and addressed the man at the head of it. “Agent Weisberg, would you be so kind to explain to me why and how you came to call on my office this urgently?”
    “Let me first apologize for not introducing Mr. Holmes properly when you came in.”
    Mycroft waved a dismissive hand in front of his face. “No need for apologies, Agent Weisberg, no need at all. Let’s get to the point, shall we?”
    “Okay then,” Weisberg said, opening the folder in front of him, “Sherlock here has supposedly discovered a terrorist cell operating from a house in Chelsea, in London.”
    “Let me stop you right there, Weisberg,” Mycroft uttered, “don’t tell me. The house belongs to a man by the name of David Penny, does it not?”
    “Yes, that’s the name, yes. But may I ask how you knew of this?”
    “Well, gentlemen”—Mycroft’s gaze traveled around the table—”our MI5 or MI6 departments may be a bit slow on the uptake, as you say in America, but we are well aware of Mr. Penny’s existence and of his covert operations in Britain.”
    “And are you also aware of Sherlock’s assertions”—Weisberg locked eyes with Sherlock—”that this Mr. Penny is planning to plant a bomb in the London Tube only days from now?”
    “No, Agent Weisberg, that’s news to me!”
    “I’m telling you, Mycroft,” Sherlock burst out, “they’re going to blow up the Chelsea Station to smithereens..”
    “And how would you know this?” Mycroft asked, in two minds as to whether Sherlock had some facts in hand to support his assertion or whether it was a way to get back to England.
    “Here.,” Sherlock said, handing his brother a set of photographs, “take a good look at these photos. They’ll tell you that I’m right.” He got up from his seat and rounded the table to come to stand behind Mycroft’s shoulder. “See., right there..” He pointed to a young man carrying a package and entering the Tube station. “And there..” He flipped to another photo, over his brother’s shoulder. “There, he’s coming out of the Tube without the package-not only ten minutes later, according to the time stamp on the photo.”
    Mycroft nodded while looking at the two photographs closely. “That’s all circumstantial, Sherlock. No one could ever arrest a man for carrying a package in the Tube station.” He turned to Weisberg. “Have you found this package and examined its content?”
    “I’ll let Agent Zimmerman answer that.”
    Zimmerman was sitting beside Sherlock-the latter had regained his seat by now-and opened a manila folder. “When we suspected the package may have contained a bomb, we went down the Tube station, found the package under a seat and some MI5 experts examined it.”
    “And what did the package contain?” Mycroft asked.
    “Nothing, sir, absolutely nothing.”
    “That’s exactly what should have been in the