I

"Who needs me this time?" Sherlock asked, looking out the small window.

Mycroft paused. "England."

Sherlock furrowed his eyebrows momentarily before he realized. He stared off in silence for a few moments. Mycroft was going on about something on the other end, but Sherlock had tuned him out. How? He thought. I saw him kill himself. Even if he did somehow survive, it's been over two years. Why would he choose to reveal himself now? Then Sherlock remembered the mission he had been previously assigned to. I see. Every fairy tale needs its dragon slayer.

"Sherlock are you listening?" Mycroft hissed. "This is a matter of national importance."

"Of course, brother. I was merely placing my tray table into its full upright position for landing."

"This is no time for jokes, Sherlock. If Moriarty truly has returned, the entire country could be in jeopardy."

"I'm afraid I'll have to call you back, all electronic devices must be turned off and stowed away during landing," Sherlock replied before hanging up. He looked out the elliptical window until he could see the small figures down below, John and Mary. He stood as soon as the plane landed, collecting his coat and scarf. Sherlock stifled a smile as he made his way to the exit. John approached him as he walked down the small flight of stairs, Mary close behind him.

"So you've heard then? About-"

"Yes," Sherlock interrupted.

"I don't understand, John told me he killed himself," Mary interjected.

"Told you the same about me, I presume," said Sherlock. "We all know how that turned out."

John retorted, "Yeah, does anyone actually die or is that just some make believe concept we normal people have constructed?"

"How did he do it?" Sherlock asked.

"Well we're all wondering that," Mary answered.

"No, I mean how did he reveal himself?" Sherlock asked, growing impatient. "How did his survival suddenly come to everyone's attention?"

A look of confusion came over John. "Uh, I dunno Mycroft just said he was back. Why, is that important?"

Sherlock let out an annoyed growl as he paced back and forth. He stopped abruptly and pointed at John. "Call my brother. I need to know exactly how Moriarty did it. It could be vital." He placed his hands, palms together below his lips as he plunged deep into thought.

Mary walked over to him, clearly worried. "Sherlock?"

"Hm?"

"You're sure he could be back?"

Sherlock looked over, drawn out of concentration. He noted her fear and nervousness as well as something else. Apprehension? "I don't know," he admitted.

II

John and Mary were driven back home while Sherlock had to be escorted by Mycroft.

"So, brother," Mycroft said. "Narrowly escaped punishment, didn't you?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes from the back seat.

Mycroft paused. "You don't happen to have anything to do with this do you?"

"Oh for God's sake, Mycroft you don't think-"

"All I'm saying is that it was rather perfectly timed. And you know what we say about coincidences."

"He must have known," Sherlock replied. "Somehow he must have known. He told me once that we needed each other. There's not a doubt in my mind that he'd go to some lengths to keep me around."

John and Mary walked into their house, the midday sun filling the entrance with a soft white light.

"I better go see if Sherlock needs me. God I can't believe this is happening. You have no idea what Moriarty can, and is willing to do," John nervously stated.

Mary pressed her lips together and nodded.

"You just rest, alright? And don't worry. I'll be back soon," he reassured her before hurrying out the door.

Mary took a deep breath as she tried to steady her rapid heartbeats.