I don't own Sherlock, BBC, or any of the characters, etc. Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat, are the real creators of the show. All this work is for entertainment purposes only, not for profit or gain. I would like to thank TheLastOfUs, and WolfRune20855 for some great inspiration, on chapter 2. Enjoy!

It had been a long day. John had just gotten home from working at the hospital to 221.B. It was late, so he thought Sherlock was sleeping. John feeling exhausted himself decided to take a shower, to get the stench of the day off of him. He soon brushed his teeth and got ready for bed. But before he goes to bed, he decides to check on the sleeping detective. The stairs creek as John tries not to wake him on the way to his room.

Through the darkness, he can faintly make out the silhouette of a figure. As John gets closer, his eyes slowly come into focus. Sherlock wasn't asleep, but was sitting up on a his bed with his eyes closed, and hands clasped under his chin in a steeple position.

"Brilliant! he's in his mind palace," John quietly muttered to himself. Sherlock had always stored facts about a case in his mind palace after it was solved.

But suddenly, things took a turn for the worst. The detectives hands began to shake violently. Fearing the worst for his friend, John grabbed the detectives wrist to check his pulse. "Sherlock can you hear me?" there was no answer.

Sherlock was in his mind palace, confronted with a old enemy Jim Moriarty. "Did you miss me? did you miss me?" A shudder began to course through his body. Moriarty was back.

"How did you get in here?"

"I'm always here Sherlock, because I'm you remember." Moriarty gave Sherlock a gut wrenching stare and started walking towards him, like a spider cornering a fly in its web. Sherlock began to devise a plan to find Moriarty's pressure-point.

John soon begins to grow weary, and senses that his friend is in trouble. It was nearly dawn, when suddenly, Sherlocks eyes begin to open.

"John?" Sherlock said, half dazed by what conspired in the mind palace.

"What's wrong you've been out for hours?" John said, his voice a little shaky.

"HE'S BACK!"

"Who's back?"

"Moriarty," Sherlock replied sounding a little annoyed. Before John could say another word, Sherlock dashed to the closet and quickly put on his coat, scarf, and shoes and bounded out the door.

"Not again, Sherlock you can't go around London in your knickers!" John yells. Fearing that he's going to be left behind, John quickly gets his coat, and shoes on, and runs out the door after him. "Christ, Sherlock!" he yells panting.

Seeing that there was no use trying to catch up to the detective, John raised his arm in the air to call a cab. He soon bumps into Mycroft, as they were both hailing the same cab.

"Has my little brother been running you rampant?"

"He"... John was cut off.

"Wait, let me guess. He bolts out the door chasing a lead, not bothering to put some clothes on. Then you run after him yelling, and now you call a taxi, so you can chase him down, and return to you life of being his blogger, and doctor friend...Well?"

"How could you possibly know that?"

"Because," Mycroft continued. "You're half dressed, and from the looks of it breathing heavily, and I saw you chasing after him. Is it really that hard to piece together?"

"Right, er well...Did you see where Sherlock went?"

"Well my brother has many bolt-holes. What was the last thing he said to you before running off?"

"Something about Moriarty being back," John says nonchalantly.

"But it doesn't make any sense Mycroft. Sherlock saw moriarty take his own life, how can he be back?"

Mycroft rolled the handle of his umbrella around in his fingers, before speaking.

"Maybe he wasn't really dead," Mycroft answered intriguingly.

"But that's..."

"Not possible?" Mycroft continued. "Was it also not possible that my brother jumped from a hospital roof to his death, but now is alive and well?"

"You put too much emphases on what's impossible, When you should be focusing on what is possible... Moriarty is alive, just as Sherlock is alive." Now I suggest you find where he is and quickly, it looks like it's about to rain."

John looked up, to see the sun slowly being swallowed up by a rain cloud passing overhead. "That sets the mood for today," John mutters.

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