追月流湘

文沫回忆太太的麦夏经典作品魔王宫殿的授权英译，已在AO3上连载，现广泛征求修改意见及捉虫等，以及求beta。会在AO3更新之前先挂在这里。

文沫太太又删号了，所以没法询问她能不能同时贴出中文，如果大家觉得有必要的话可以找我。

下划线代表英文斜体

0-序章 

Chapter One -part1

John pushed the door open and saw Anthea's grim face. This made John involuntarily take a breath of cold air. God, the secretary of the British government showing that expression, was Britain going to down to ruins? She didn't even wear lipstick! John grudgingly called out his mind's 'London has ten minutes to go to be blown flat by nuclear weapons' fantasy, licked his lips awkwardly and walked in.

"Where's Mr. Holmes?" Anthea stood up and politely seated John, but didn't say a greeting,  with a deep exhaustion in her tone. John was even more embarrassed when she mentioned Sherlock. 

"Well, thank you." Watching Anthea bring him tea, John licked his lips again and tried to smile back politely.  Thank God his lips weren't as cramping as they had been when he faced Mycroft, "And you know Sherlock... They have always been what they are like. Perhaps it's more likely to call in Sherlock if Mycroft calls him personally."

Or, rather less. "The fatty's office only infects obesity and baldness, except which it's of no use at all." That's Sherlock's original story, and the sincerity in it nearly made John worry about his hairline. But John decided that he'd better not say it out.

"..." Anthea gave a quick glance at John, her sharp eyes making John's heart grasped suddenly. He might truly lose his hair, John thought, scared off. 

"I supposed that you could have convinced Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson."

"Oh, then you must have overrated me..." John raised his eyebrows and sipped tea, thinking of it that he would rejoice enough if not ordered here and there by Sherlock. To relieve himself of embarrassment, John put down the teacup and went on, "Well, I will put down words and passed on to Sherlock. I can wait for Mycroft if he is occupied at present."

"Doctor, of national security, it is forbidden that any form of information be let out. Anyway, It's hoped Mr. Holmes will show up here as soon as possible. Boss does need his help. "

"..." so serious? John was rather disturbed. "Well, I'll try, but I don't think I can..."

"Mr. Holmes does anything for you but gives in to your persuasion?" Anthea squinted and said aggressively. Jesus, like boss, like secretary! John felt his blood run cold.

"I hope you would tell Mr. Holmes the urgency and gravity of what I said, and stress that boss needs him more than very much." 

"If Mycroft were in such trouble, he should have informed Sherlock himself…" said John unreleased. He was not their dispatch rider (though he did the same in fact) But when he found Anthea's unnatural expression, John was struck dumb, and a horrible thought hit him, " You don't say…"

"Please find Mr Holmes as soon as possible, please." Anthea closed her eyes and said a little weakly, her face white as a sheet.

John nodded in haste. He immediately pulled out his cellphone and dialed Sherlock – even if Sherlock hung him up ten thousand times this time,  he was bound to force him to answer the phone!

Your brother's in great trouble, you wretch! Stop staying at home looking for inklings of Moriarty's comeback!

But the fact was clearly beyond his wildest imaginations. John heard Sherlock's phone ringing, so close, almost by his side. 

Before John could surprise it, he heard Sherlock's voice approaching from the doorway. 

"I must see him. Now." 

Sherlock's eyes were overflowing with seriousness and earnestness.

"A year and a half, he hasn't been in touch with me for a whole year and a half." Sherlock walked fast with his phone in the hand and said to John, his skirts of coat swinging in the wind, "The number of security cameras dropped by three a month. And a year and a half later, he was reduced to instructing his subordinates to call me. For fear that I would ignore it, they even hacked into your blog website and my mailbox." (What? That's my blog!) I daresay that if Mycroft had known their so humiliating pleas, he would have made their whole families vanish from the earth forever. So? It isn't Mycroft's instructions but those good-for-notings' spontaneous action. They begged me because of family feud? Use your little brain to think of it, John! The only explanation is that Mycroft has met with a terrible accident. That bastard finally got burnt in playing with fire. Well done."

"..." John sighed, yet his mind turned the idea over that "You had known Mycroft's being in trouble but you didn't even want to show up?!" The army doctor got absent-minded when he heard the last sentence,which made him uneasy "...You ought not to say that, Sherlock. He's your brother. You should concern about him. "

"Oh John." Sherlock smirked and shook his head with disdain.

"Sherlock, you've been really good from your return, very human. Not only did you not have a finger in Molly's love affairs, but you also helped Greg find a nice girlfriend. And you even play the violin for Mrs Hudson in holidays. You can't exclude your brother intentionally – Hey, Sherlock! "

Watching the consulting detective striding along the corridor, unwilling to listen to his 'moral lesson', John had no alternative but to trot along to catch up with him. Damn his long legs!

"He went to Eastern Europe for an undercover operation. Substituted for me." Sherlock walked to Anthea, completely ignoring John's predicament ("Sherlock , wait!") "Not counting the time he was found and rescued, he must have stayed for at least a year."

"Yes." Anthea looked down for the key. The sound of high-heeled shoes echoed in the corridor.

"..." Sherlock screwed up his face slightly with some unclear emotions. After a short pause he went on furiously. "How did he fail? Tell me all. "

"The renegade subordinate, and enemies crafty enough." Anthea stood at a door and opened the door with the key. After nodding a greeting to guards in duty, she scanned her identity card to enter the next door. "We had much worse circumstances before, when three of our men had betrayed, but the enemies still failed to track down him. But this time... boss didn't even have time to do anything but transmit the intelligence back.

"Well, if the other side were not crafty, Mycroft couldn't have taken a hand in the operation personally. Oil issues or military defense?" Sherlock snorted in contempt as he watched Anthea check her fingerprints at the third door. Anthea didn't answer. "Hadn't he expected his being given away and made plan B in advance for the worst? How could he go so far as let you turn to me like headless flies? "

Doors and doors and doors. Not knowing where they led. Anthea got her iris examined by electronic scanner, and the three moved forward.

At length they reached an empty room, with only a faint sound of current as the machine was running. A large screen was placed in the center of the opposite wall, showing the seemed-sleeping Ice Man.

"Yes, but no one took it seriously." Anthea stood in front of the screen, looking sadly at Mycroft, who remained unconscious inside. In the screen they can only see Mycroft's pale face, closed eyes, as if he were trapped with endless dreams, "... Because he is Mycroft Holmes and everything. "

"Oh, God." John took a deep breath, murmured. "He looks not so good." He seldom had a friendly relationship with Mycroft, but it was sad to see him lifeless like that. But Sherlock didn't even change his expression, he squinted and dissected Mycroft's current situation.

Seconds later Sherlock turned to Anthea and said coldly: "I don't know why you came to me. He had been rescued." No one knew what he was thinking about. 

"Had been rescued?" John asked in astonishment. Sherlock gave him a that-was-obvious look (oh, there he goes again.) "I thought... "

"He's still in Eastern Europe? No, of course not. Judging from the wall and bed, it's clear that Mycroft is just there for treatment." Sherlock gestured the corner. John looked in that direction, just to find no door or anything like that. ("Just a clever hiding, John.") 

There was no surprise on Anthea's face, while Sherlock seemed rather indifferent. "So Ms. Anthea, what are you for? Wanna me to be his babysitter? I can't figure out the least."

He didn't even pause awhile to await any possible explanations, and headed straightly outwards as he snap. John hesitated as not knowing whether to follow or not. He glanced at Anthea somewhat in a fluster, finding her sort of exhausted.

The skirts of Sherlock's overcoat were churning.

"Consciousness Blockade, Mr. Holmes." Anthea said weakly. Less than a whisper.

Ch1-2