And I'm back! the sequel wasn't meant to be written until i got back to UK but here I am with chapter sixteen just posted and I'm writing the sequel already

it follows on maybe a few weeks after chapter sixteen ends.

so all of you who tried standing on your heads for my last story lets try something different how about we do a handstand, we could always scroll with our feet or our tongue, depending on our flexibility

*Smiles bows and leaves the stage*

Chapter one Darkness.

John Watson hadn't been sleeping much of late, the first few nights after he had been admitted to St Barts he had been sleeping the sleep of the drugged, thanks to pain relief, and sleeping tablets and goodness knows what, he felt like he was floating on a cloud.

He remembered in his drugged haze that Mycroft and Greg had been visitors on almost a daily basis, He hadn't seen Sherlock much but the nurses said he had been… around. In fact they had been saying so for a while and he began to wonder if it was truth or falsification. Still he had slept well for the first few nights thank heavens for small mercies.

After the fourth night his brain got the better of him and his nightmares made an appearance.

So it was suffice to say that he hadn't been sleeping since he got home.

He would catch a few hours sleep in an afternoon maybe, and then go up to his room at his usual bedtime and spend the whole time looking at the ceiling, willing himself not to sleep.

When he had returned home it was like being at the hospital, his pills were left on his bedside table every morning before he woke, and Sherlock was most probably around, although John could count on the fingers of one hand the amount of time he had seen his flatmate turned lover.

When he had got back form the hospital Sherlock had been in the living room.

"You're back" was all he had said, and he had uttered few words since that day three weeks before.

this particular day Sherlock was in the living-room with a map spread on the floor when John came downstairs scrubbing his hand through his hair in the pretence of having just woken up.

"Morning" he mumbled

Sherlock looked up at him briefly before going back to the map.

John clicked the kettle on for a cuppa and walked into the living room

"What have we go then, new case?" He asked Sherlock.

Sherlock turned his back on John, folding the map up and grabbing his coat.

"You're going out?"

"Yes that would be the only possible conclusion when you see me get my coat." Sherlock replied acerbically

"Have I done something wrong since i got back from the hospital, because if I have I apologise, you said you weren't going to do this Sherlock, you promised."

"I'm doing nothing, I'm going out, thats all, I never promised I wouldn't go out"

John wanted to throw something "Pack it in and talk to me"

"I don't see why I should"

"Its what people do in relationships, they talk about whats bothering them"

"Nothing is bothering me John" Sherlock said quickly, he pressed a kiss to the corner of John's mouth and strode out, offering a "don't worry I may be back late."

"Why should I worry" John said to an empty flat "you're hardly ever in and when you are we don't talk"

The kettle clicked off and he went to make himself a cuppa.

Sherlock had a few people to see and little time to do it in.

He had to go and see some of his contacts, those of the homeless persuasion, and follow up on what they said, then he had to arrive back home before John began to have nightmares.

John didn't know Sherlock knew he had nightmares, Neither did John know that Sherlock knew He never slept.

Soon John wouldn't have to worry about the nightmares, Sherlock would fix it for him.

That was what being a good partner was all about, fixing things.

He pulled his coat tighter around himself and thought about John.

Thought about three weeks ago when John had been shot.

"Doctor Foster went to Gloucester in a shower of rain, he stepped in a puddle, right up to his middle, and never was seen again." the boy grinned at Sherlock and ran back to play with his friends.

Sherlock's blood ran cold. this wasn't happening, this was just a coincidence It had to be. John was in front of him now walking towards the Tesco Metro with a determined stride, oblivious to Sherlock's panic.

Sherlock began to lengthen his strides to catch up with John, when he saw three red laser sights on John's back.

Things from there happened quickly.

He had shouted at John, who had turned and looked at him that adorably confused look on his face, and his heart had shattered into pieces.

John looked down at his chest at where the laser sights danced and looked at Sherlock with alarm.

"Get out of here Sherlock" John said, it wasn't a shout and the distance between them should have ensured that Sherlock would miss the words, but he heard each one of them as if they had been whispered in his ear.

his mobile chimed and he picked it up.

'Leave him now or I will end your heart's life Sherlock'

"I don't think so"

"Don't believe me?" there was a crack that sounded all too much like a gunshot and John doubled over.

"oops, sorry about that" the voice said, sounding entirely too gleeful

"Stop it please."

"Beg my darling, I want to hear that beautiful voice beg for John Watson's life before you come to me"

"Its not going to happen Jim, leave him be this is between the two of us not John."

"Oh how cliche Sherlock, surely you can come up with something better."

There was another crack and John grunted in pain. Sherlock took two steps towards him but he held out a hand to stop him.

"Now dearest, what will it be? Beg for him and come to me and I'll spare him, don't and you get to watch as he bleeds to death. Your choice, call me. Kisses"

John was on his knees now back pressed against the wall of a shop, one hand clutched to his arm and the other his leg.

"What do I do John"

"Nothing my radius' hit, possibly shattered, and my leg, bullet's nicked a muscle, just phone for an ambulance please." John's voice was ragged and his face was getting paler by the minute.

Sherlock nodded, he was still clutching his mobile and he punched in the three numbers.

Yes there's been a shooting… I don't know were we are but we're near Halcott's Cd's please come quickly, he's been shot twice…"

He put the phone down on the ambulance service and sent a text to his brother 'JOHN. PLEASE HELP'

There was a sound from the alleyway next to the shop and Sherlock ran halfway down it.

"Where are you. You wouldn't mis the chance to gloat." He spat in to the empty alleyway.

"Cooee! Here I am!" The singsong voice came from a figure in the shadows of the alley.

"Show yourself"

"Oh but isn't it more exciting in the shadows, more alluring, more sensual" he dragged the last word out savouring it.

"Not really no its just a bit perverse, shows you had a very unhappy childhood. Is that something you feel the need to talk about maybe?"

"Don't toy with me I could finish him right now, what interesting blood spatters he'd make on that wall, don't think I won't" Jim chuckled "would you study them, the patterns his blood made, I'd tell you what type of gun I used, it would keep you amused for a while, think of it as an apology for not getting a first date sooner."

"I will end this Moriarty"

"No you won't!" He replied in that sing song fun voice "and do you know why. You enjoy this, you would be nothing without me and we both Know it, John isn't what you want or need, don't deny yourself any longer."

"Oh I don't plan to Jim" he spat the man's name out with distaste. there was the noise of sirens approaching

"Call me when you've seen sense sweetheart"

Sherlock just smirked and walked away from the alley and back to John. He would be calling Moriarty, but not because he'd seen sense, because he'd trapped him, he'd call him to tell him he was a deadman. If John worsened or died then he hoped Moriarty knew there was nowhere he could hide.

Once he knew Mycroft and Greg were on their way to the hospital he knew he could go, he had a lot of things to do. The game was on.

.

"Mistah Holmes, my sister told me to give you this, Doc Watson fixed her up right well after she got bottled by that touchy-feely bloke from the Kings arms" A young boy was passing Sherlock on the street with a piece of paper held out in his hand.

Sherlock put his hand into his pocket fishing out a note which he switched with the slip of paper.

"Have a nice day mister Holmes, Remember my sister to Doctor Watson."

"I will Mark, thank you." Sherlock allowed a small smile to cross his face for a moment and ruffled the boy's amber locks.

"Check you later Mr Holmes" Mark said sprinting off and Sherlock was sure he saw the boy pick a full purse out of a woman's open bag. he said nothing just carried on walking looking at the slip of folded paper.

22 Waltham avenue, a crack den.

John started violently out of a dream. He ha been dying, blood pouring out of his leg and arm, he had been chocking on the iron taste of it, swimming in it. In all his thrashing and confusion on waking he had upset his tea which was now dripping off the edge of the coffee table, and twisted the sling around his left arm to the point that if it twisted any more he would probably dislocate his own shoulder. He sighed and tried to get his breathing back to regular. that was a different dream to the one he usually had. he though as he ben awkwardly to mop the tea, his left leg was positioned straight and it hurt like anything when he moved it after he had been in one position for too long.

He had been right in what he told Sherlock that afternoon the bullet to his leg had nicked a muscle, the gracillis to be correct, and his arm had needed two pins to reconstruct his radius. the than that he was fine.

"John love are you alright? I heard shouting" His Landlady shouted up

"I'm fine Mrs Hudson, honestly I was.. Yelling at the tv its gone on the blink again." he shouted down to his landlady.

"Oh, well as long as your sure your alright"

"I'm perfectly fine Mrs Hudson, thanks!" he replied wishing she would just go back into her flat.

He turned the Tv on just in case she came up to check and watched it, not really seeing for a while before giving up and deciding to stretch his legs, the walk would do him good.

As he walked round the room he pondered on his relationship with Sherlock.

Things had been great three weeks ago, hell they had been inseparable, and now Sherlock couldn't bear to be in the same room as him for two minutes before having to leave. Maybe it was the Nightmares, maybe it was the fact that in a way Moriarty had soiled him by doing this, he had a slight limp thanks to the bullet in the leg but his surgeon had said it would go in time. Maybe the limp was a reminder for Sherlock of a time when they hadn't been close, maybe Sherlock was worried that was what they would go back to.

All these maybe's were driving John insane, he needed to get out of the flat.

He grabbed his keys, mobile and stick and headed to the pub, a pint and a rugby match would sort him out.

Mycroft sat in his office watching his brother, He really hoped Sherlock wasn't going to do what he thought he was about to do. he sent a text to Lestrade and John, '22 Waltham Avenue, Sherlock's old ways again'

"Oh Sherlock… Why can't you see you have a perfect life now."

A/N: Well there we are chapter one all wrapped up and while i'm still in Spain as well!

May i just say a huge masive major shout out to DoctorcoffeeGirl and Tabbie who have coached me through this chapter.

I know its short but chapter two may be longer. this is just a set up really

If you like review, and hey we may even make it to the M rating this time, if I have enough encouragement!

*Bows and leaves the stage.*

Fae.