Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock, or any of its characters. Unfortunately ;)

Prologue

Sherlock looked around quickly, assessing his situation. His pursuers had forced him down a secluded alleyway. Sherlock realized with a shock, he didn't know where he was going. He had never seen these building surrounding him before. He heard the cock of a rifle, and dodged to his immediate right. The bullet went harmlessly over where his head had been. He saw his masked pursuer in his mind's eye, he retraced the trajectory of the bullet, and concluded that he had intentionally missed him. Why?

Another bullet whizzed close to his right ear, startling him. "No!" he heard a rough voice command.

Sherlock's feet pounded the ground, he knew his pursuers had the advantage. He was running out of time, and they were slowly gaining on him. He made a split-second decision and took a left turn. Sherlock found himself facing a brick wall.

He let a soft moan of frustration escape him, and turned to face his foes. Four men stood facing him, wearing identical black suits. They're faces were obscured with leering masks, resembling four snarling wolves.

Sherlock knew he had no time. He scanned each man with a practiced eye. Each identical gun had a expensive silencer on it, obviously British made. The first man to sherlock's right had a slight limp, as he was leaning heavily on his left foot. Each suit was freshly washed, possibly in the last hour, or so. Which meant this was no on-the-spot attack. Someone hired these imbeciles to find him. They had been fairly obvious tracking him, but inevitably had surrounded him, and forced him into a corner.

One man stepped forward.

The leader, Sherlock thought.

"Now Mr. Holmes," He said. "I congratulate you on that chase. You're quite fast aren't you... Unfortunately we haven't been hired to give you a medal."

"Oh really? That's to bad. Maybe I should have a little talk with your employer." Sherlock sneered.

"Yeah? Well we have a little gift for you, Mr. Moriarty sends his love."

The masked man reached his hand out to his companion, and was handed a medical syringe full of dark blue liquid. Sherlock scrawled frantically through his options mentally.

1. the syringe had a deadly poison

2. possibly acid

3. Moriarty finally decided he wanted sherlock dead

4. if he went fo-

The man jumped forward with surprising speed, and sent Sherlock crashing against the wall. He winced as the brick jarred his shoulder blade, but leapt back up again. Sherlock noted his opponent was ambidextrous, holding the syringe in his left hand, while swinging his right hand at sherlock's fa-

Sherlock ducked and sent an uppercut against the man's elbow, fracturing the joint. The man yelled in pain and backed off, but was then replaced with two more of the goons, who leapt on sherlock. He was pushed back on the ground, his two arms pinned beneath the men. His vision became hazy for a moment, and he felt a sharp stinging pain on the back of his head, on the asphalt.

The injured man with the syringe approached again, clutching his elbow. Sherlock struggled, and tried to kick out at him with his legs and missed. He knelt beside Sherlock on the ground, and smiled through his mask.

"Nighty Night Mr. Holmes." He said triumphantly.

One of the men, pushed Sherlock's head to the side, exposing his neck. The wolves eyes glaring at him seemed to turn red, as the man plunged the syringe into his jugular vein, and emptied it into his bloodstream.

Nothing.

Fire. Sherlock was burning. Every inch of him burned, and he screamed.

He.

couldn't.

think.

Then he was frozen, drowning, he couldn't move a muscle. He saw the moon face high above him, then it all faded away...