Chapter 1

"John... John."

"Mm... talk later, sleep first." John's voice was bleary with sleep. He didn't open his eyes, but of course he knew who was talking. It was the first time they'd spoken since leaving the swimming pool and getting a taxi.

"Yes, well, it's either sleep in the taxi or get inside and sleep in your bed. I'd strongly suggest the former myself. Come on!" There was an impatient dig to his side. Giving up, John opened his eyes and followed Sherlock out of the taxi. They paid the driver, then John opened the door to 221b Baker Street and they both went upstairs. Once they were inside, there was a moment's silence, which Sherlock broke, sounding somewhat awkward.

"John... listen, what happened tonight-"

"Not now, Sherlock. I honestly don't have the energy to deal with that subject tonight. In the morning, alright?"

Sherlock nodded once, then watched as John walked to his room and closed the door behind him. He flopped down onto the couch and stared up at the ceiling, thinking rapidly, going over the events of the night once again.

Pulling the trigger had seemed like the best, most logical plan of action at that moment in time. Allowing Moriarty to live another day when they would most likely be killed by his snipers was something that could not be allowed. There was the idea of him killing more people, endangering more lives, facilitating more criminal acts, of course, but... Sherlock also knew that he was the only person that was a match for Moriarty. He had to survive, if only to continue their little game.

Moriarty had known what Sherlock's answer would be, and had been ready for it. Although the bomb vest was certainly live and primed, it was not in the same calibre as the others had been. The explosion that took place knocked Sherlock and John back off their feet and took out a large section of the tiled floor and the wall beside them... but it wasn't lethal. When Sherlock got back to his feet, Moriarty had disappeared.

It had taken a few minutes to get their bearings and get out of the ruined swimming pool. In that time, someone had called the police, evidently having heard the sound of the explosion. They found themselves having to explain to Inspector Lestrade how they had ended up at the pool in the first place, let alone let Moriarty.

"Moriarty had taken John as his final 'voice'. I came to the conclusion that he would have gone somewhere of significance to both of us, somewhere we both had ties. This swimming pool is where my first unsolved case began, and where he committed his first murder, it was simple."

Lestrade looked deeply suspicious at that. He was by no means as clever as Sherlock Holmes, but he knew something didn't quite add up here. He turned to John.

"Is what he said true?"

For a moment, John and Sherlock's eyes had met. John knew what Sherlock was asking of him, didn't even need to read his expression to know; and was uncomfortable lying to the police. But he was also overwrought, in shock and just wanted to sleep. He met Lestrade's gaze.

"Yeah, that's about it."

There was a pause in which Lestrade took this in. Then he nodded.

"Fine. Both of you are free to go, but I may have other questions in the coming days."

"Yes, you know where to find us, of course." Sherlock called back over his shoulder as they walked away.

The remainder of the night had passed in near silence. John had fallen asleep within moments of their getting into the taxi, and Sherlock found himself watching him... wondering. His friend had done something incredibly valiant tonight. Had essentially offered to sacrifice himself in order to let Sherlock escape. It had shocked Sherlock, and was now making him feel an emotion he rarely felt... guilt, and insecurity. He knew he had done wrong, and that John had nearly paid a price as a result... and he was now unsure how to proceed. A troubling state of affairs. There was also the notion that John was angry. It had seeped from his tone of voice, his body language. Was he perhaps angry enough to want to leave?

It was surprising just how much that thought bothered Sherlock. Despite the fact that John was so different, so very... normal compared to him, they had got along well. He had found John's evident awe of his abilities gratifying, whatever he might have shown to the contrary. Not that John was just there to 'ooh' and 'ahh', he had been most helpful. He had killed a man to help him...

"I will burn the heart out of you."

"I have been reliably informed that I don't have one."

"... we both know that's not quite true."

He sighed, and attempted to clear his thoughts. In the next room, he thought he heard the sound of bedsprings creaking as John got into bed. He tried not to think about the possible confrontation to come in the morning.

Next chapter: S and J work things out.