A/N

This is a Sherlock/pirate AU set during the Napoleonic Wars in the Caribbean. Rated M for violence and because I want to be careful.

This story began its life after a prompt, which was Pirate AU, from Hades Lord of the Dead, in the December Calendar Challenge of Awesomeness. The very short prologue for The Rest of the Story is entitled One or the Other and it is published as chapter 18 of Deck the Halls with Awesome Challenges within the community of December Calendar Challenge of Awesomeness. I shall attempt to publish the URLs at the end.

An longer explanation explaining why I split this story in twain.

The stories in the Challenge are all rated K-T, and One or the Other is only K+.

However, I got carried away (I'm sorry but PIRATES!) and wrote a longer fic that might need an M rating for violence.

Therefore I am posting the rest of the story with an M rating.

Feel free to imagine Holmes and Watson as portrayed in ACD's Sherlock Holmes Canon, in the BBC's Sherlock or by RDJ and JL or whoever you like (Isn't that the beauty of reading? We can supply bits of the stories with our own imaginations).

Anyway, I am publishing the rest of the story under the BBC Sherlock aegis because I miss my home…which is BBC Sherlock… obviously. Oddly enough the title for the rest of the story is The Rest of the Story. (Did you all see that one coming?)

The story almost starts here. But, before we get to The Rest of the Story, here is the excerpt from the prologue

One or the Other-an excerpt

It had been a trap.

Only his brother, Mycroft, knew that Sherlock had been hired to purloin the papers, which would prove the governor's guilt.

Only his trusted friend, Doctor Watson had known the specifics of the plan.

Clearly, one of them had betrayed him. It had to be one or the other.

Logically, Mycroft had no motive to betray him; the bureaucrat needed the documents just as much as the buccaneer needed the money.

That left John Watson…

Holmes had no regrets about the failed plan, but he did have a broken heart.

Rated M for violence and very oblique references to adult situations

The Rest of the Story-A Pirate AU

Captain Holmes realized that he must have fallen into a doze only when he was startled awake by the thunder of guns.

Guns.

Cannons.

The very words made his heart beat faster. And their distant roar made his heart thrill. He could almost smell the powder and the burning slow match in his imagination.

The pirate eagerly tried to peer out his tiny barred window. He could just make out some of the flashes reflecting off the clouds, followed closely by the echoing booms. He deduced from the sound of the echoes that the harbor was under fire from a single attacker who remained out at sea.

'But who…' wondered the buccaneer, 'who would bombard the harbor while two frigates were lying at anchor, each ship armed with 28 long guns? Not to mention the threat from this fort, itself armed with 18 and 24 pounders.* It's suicide for a single ship to attack.'

"Idiots."

'Then too…there were those rumors of a ship of the line (probably the Indomitable), who supposedly hunted the sea lanes south of the island. If that ship is out there, she'll be attracted to the cannonfire like a bear to honey.'

Holmes could not imagine any captain risking his ship so foolishly. He would never risk The Hound so. He sat back on the hard stone bench, tucking his long legs underneath him.

He heard more guns now, meaning that the frigates now exchanged fire with the rogue ship.

He hated not knowing what was going on! He tugged irritably at a strand of dark hair, which had escaped his plait.

At least he could be sure that his first mate, Lestrade would never risk The Hound in such a dangerous and futile venture.

'No pirate worth his salt would attack without the promise of gain," reasoned Holmes, "and there was no profit to be had in this idiotic attack. Gavin Lestrade is a true buccaneer and no fool. Ergo, The Hound is safe.'

The pirate captain should have felt comforted by this thought. But he remained uneasy. He could think of one man not driven by the promise of treasure, one man who was foolhardy enough to attack an overwhelming force-and had done so before. Certainly, the gentleman in question had never done so with a ship under his command…at least not so far.

'Now Watson,' he thought with a grim smile, 'Now John Watson would certainly think nothing of exercising his guns right under a ship of the line, if the doctor was riled up enough or motivated by his sense of honor. Certainly, Watson, while an excellent doctor, is sometimes not a very good pirate," conceded the buccaneer privately. "The doctor does not have a head for sea battles. He never seems to enjoy treasure like any other buccaneer. And John Watson is dangerously romantic and stupidly brave. I can very well imagine that he'd believe that firing on the harbor is somehow a clever way to rescue someone.'

The lanky captain scoffed at himself with bitter contempt.

'But this is even more ludicrous than imaging that Lestrade possesses an altruistic side," the captain chided himself.

'To begin with, how could Watson take over the command of the ship? He couldn't, obviously.'

'Besides, Watson is the one who put me here,' thought Holmes, shaking his head ever so slightly. "The doctor will not be planning any reckless schemes to rescue me this time.'

'In fact, Watson is probably watching the bombardment,' thought Holmes, holding a finger in front of his lips. 'from the balcony of HER suite. He probably has a champagne glass in his hand. Possibly he has HER in hand as well.'

The buccaneer growled low in his throat and punched the wall for good measure.

'I was a fool! A fool! A thrice damned fool!

'How could I allow John Watson to consort with that wench again? …No. No, let me be honest- at least with myself,' thought the captain, 'I didn't allow it. I ordered it! My doctor tried to refuse, but I ordered him to seduce Mary Morsten. He didn't want to see her ever again, he said. And I forced them together, so that Doctor Watson could distract that charming American spy, while I, in turn, could play counter spy and sneak into the governor's mansion.'

'I have no one to blame, except myself.'

Watson, as always, had finally acquiesced to the buccaneer's demands. The doctor had spent the past week playing the besotted suitor-following Miss Morstan's skirts around the town, while wearing his own disingenuous smile-attending Morstan at the governor's mansion, right under the nose of Governor Fitzroger, under whose protection she lived.

But sadly, it looked like the seducer had been seduced.

"Of course he was seduced!" muttered Holmes softly. 'John Watson might have wooed the ladies on three separate continents, but at heart he's naïve, too innocent…and I set him up as the sacrificial lamb.'

'How? How could I have miscalculated so very badly!'

He dropped back, his head hitting the wall in frustration.

'Oh, there's no doubt that my doctor began with the most honorable of dishonorable intentions. He undertook his mission, intending to aid me. But like the serpent in the Garden, SHE seduced my doctor with her wit, her charm…her sweet-scented beauty. Undoubtedly, she offered her body as a reward. How could Watson resist? She promised her undying love to the poor romantic fool.'

'BAH! I wouldn't put it past her to have offered him a private medical practice and a clapboard house with a white picket fence in some new world outpost like Boston or Philadelphia.'

'And all John Watson had to do to earn this irresistible bounty was tell Miss Morstan when and where to find me.'

His lonely cell shook with thunder. Apparently, the laggards manning the fort had finally awoken, and now retuned fire against the attacker. Another boom resonated throughout the empty dungeon.

Unquestionably, the deadly 24 pounders were now in play.

'I pity the poor fools aboard that ship'

"Idiots."

Captain Holmes sat, alone and miserable, on the edge of the moldy stone bench that served as his cot. He sank his elbows onto his knees, while resting his head in his hands.

Indeed, his hanging in the town square on the morrow would be a relief, ending the pathetic agony he felt at his betrayal. If nothing else it would finally stop the unhelpful ponderings of his over-active mind.

He heard the slow uneven tread of boots, and just once, the jangling of keys. It sounded as though a new guard was doing the rounds. This soldier favored one of his legs, yet managed the stairs easily enough…so an old, albeit uncomfortable injury, Holmes deduced.

Usually, the soldiers ventured down to the empty dungeon on the quarter hour, so this new guard was coming a few minutes early.

Perhaps the guard had been sent to ensure that the Scourge of the West Indies was still safely ensconced in his cell.

'Or maybe the guard is on his way here to taunt me like the other soldiers, tossing insults and rocks.'

"Dull," he muttered. "They're all idiots."

Holmes did not even bother to raise his head.

"Sorry to bother you, Captain. I can see you're very busy. I suppose you're solving some really interesting, important puzzle. But, I was thinking that if you'd be willing to move your bloody arse, maybe we could see about getting you some better accommodations," said John Watson lightly. "Something with less rats and a better view perhaps.

Holmes was stunned into silence. 'How? How is Watson here? How did I miscalculate so very badly, not once but twice? And how could I mistake the sound of HIS tread for anyone aside from HIM? And how could I have ever misdoubted the loyalty of John Watson?'

"Captain?" said Doctor Watson, observing the pirate's stunned silence and his assortment of bruises with concern. "Are you hurt? Did they…"

"No…no I'm fine," said Holmes finally. "Indeed, it seems that I'm in better shape than you."

Watson sported a black eye, a cut over his temple and scraped knuckles on both hands. Holmes also noted that his friend had lost his third best coat and his father's pocket watch. Furthermore, Watson's best shirt was also torn and stained beyond repair. Watson was sure to bring this up sometime in the future…

"Nonsense. I just have a couple of scraps. Some soldiers got in my way you see and so… I had to remove them…" he trailed off to grin wolfishly.

'The idiot.'

Captain Holmes slowly realized that he too was grinning a bit foolishly. However, he didn't much care, such was his relief at the return of his one true and loyal friend.

"Still, I'm sorry if I'm a bit late," continued Watson, "but unfortunately, I was all tied up…quite literally."

"Mary?"

"Mary," agreed Watson with a wry twist of his mouth. "One minute we were having a lovely tea for two, then the next thing I know, she was going on about how I needed to stay in protective custody…for m'own good, mind you," said John as he finally tried the first key on the ring.

"To put it bluntly," said the doctor, pursing his lips in concentration, "she had the guards chain me up and lock me in her bloody dressing room. Stunk of her perfume, that strong, sickly-sweet stuff she calls Clair de La Lune."

"Yes, but tell me, however did you get free of the chains?" asked Holmes, "Oh and Watson, try that key, the brass one," he ordered, pointing a long, pale finger.

"I did; I tried that key already. And as far as my escape goes... it was the strangest thing. The guards came in, and served me tea and cake, which was odd, in and of its self." Watson's hands paused, and his forehead wrinkled gravely, "I wondered, 'why the devil would they serve me tea not two hours after I'd just had tea?' I mean, how uncivilized is that?" The doctor frowned as if he'd just foreseen the imminent collapse of civilization or perhaps he was glaring at the uncooperative ring of keys. "Well," he said, returning to his task of trying to unlock the gaol door, "believe it or not, there was a key hidden in my cake."

"Mycroft!" said Sherlock Holmes. Mycroft had not entirely abandoned his brother after all. It was becoming a night of revelations.

"Maybe so, seems like a thing he'd do. But, I tell you this, I almost broke a tooth on the damn thing," grumbled Watson. "Anyway, I finished my tea, which was uncommon good, even if served out of turn, and I unlocked the chains. Then I snuck quiet as a mouse, unobserved mind you, into Miss Morstan's bedchamber. You would have been impressed at how stealthily I moved Holmes."

Holmes smirked proudly, and Watson beamed.

"So then I tied her up," continued the doctor, "putting her gently but firmly into her convenient armoire. She would have made some complaint, but however, I had placed a scarf over her mouth. I think she is angry with me, because she bit me hard enough to draw blood, before I got that gag fastened properly."

The doctor pushed up one of his sleeves to display the angry, red bite mark.

"I am concerned to see that, Watson. Now, do try the big brass ring with the scorching all over it."

"And I tell you, I did try it….Howsomever, after taking leave of Miss Morstan, I climbed down her balcony, once again stealthy as any cat, and made my way down to the harbor. Luckily, Old Digger was lurking about outside that rotgut tavern, just like he was supposed to be. I told him that you'd been captured, and that I could certainly get you out, but that I needed the Hound to make a wee little distraction with her great big guns. And so they are; those guns are a marvelous distraction, aren't they?"

Ah, so it was The Hound sitting in the offing. Just waiting to be shot at by the fort's 24 pounders. And of course it had been Watson's idea all along, the idiot.

"Idiot! You risked The Hound just for…"

"Just for you? Yes! And I'd do it again," said Watson, sticking his chin out belligerently. "And I checked, it wasn't so much of a risk…"

"She'll be blown out of the water, you inept, foolish…" Holmes sputtered, torn between fear and anger for his ship and pride and affection for his brave yet foolish doctor. "You know nothing of naval combat nor of cannons and even less about sailing…"

"No, but they said she'd be mostly out of range and anyway she's to go sailing off any minute now…"

"They told you? They who?" demanded Holmes suspicion narrowing his eyes.

"Old Digger, of course. And also Miss Hooper said…"

"A drunkard and a serving wench? You risked my Hound on the say-so of a drunkard and a wench?"

"You are repeating yourself, Holmes," answered Watson severely. "And I relied on a former Commodore and a seasoned smuggler, who pilots her own ship, as you well know. And they were the only two I could trust, without going back to the ship, which there wasn't time to go back to the ship."

The good doctored huffed loudly. "And they…we…Well, clearly we must've been right, because Lestrade, who you always say is a great sailor and a not bad gunner, which coming from you means a lot so…Um…Um so, so Lestrade must have agreed with me or us, I mean, or else he wouldn't be bombarding the harbor, now would he?" finished Watson, who angrily shook the keys at the buccaneer.

Then the doctor stared with wide blue eyes at the keys in his hand, before blurting out, "Now I've forgotten which key I was on!" He ran his free hand through his unfashionably short blond spikes in frustration.

"You risked my ship on this venture, but couldn't be bothered to ensure you have the right keys," asserted Holmes, his temper sharpened by his concern for his ship and for his doctor, who would be shot for a traitor if caught or even hung for a pirate.

"Oh, these are the right keys," muttered the doctor, who methodically tried another key. "I borrowed 'em from the guard, after he decided to take a nap ,after I hit him. It's one of these keys…."

"You already tried that key! Try the brass one with the scorch marks!" demanded Holmes, leaning forward; his fists clenched on the bars, as his ships surgeon obstinately tried each key again. That man was maddening at times.

The pirate glanced up the stairs as a horrible idea came to mind, "Watson, you traipsed all over town before you came here…Were you followed?"

"I don't see how," snapped Watson, who was becoming irritable in turn. "I told you I was amazingly stealthy. I sometimes think you don't listen to me."

"You are certainly amazing," said the pirate captain.

"What's that? Is that sarcasm?" asked Watson, finally trying the brass key that had the odd scorching on it.

"Aha!" said John as the key turned the pins.

"I told you that was the correct key," said Holmes smugly.

Captain Holmes threw his watch coat over his shoulders and stepped imperiously out of his erstwhile gaol. Then he grasped his rescuer's shoulder and added, "It was not sarcasm. You are an amazingly determined, stubborn, and brave man…"

"I'm not stubborn."

"And I am constantly amazed that you are my friend," added the buccaneer.

"Oh…"

"And now, perhaps we should endeavor to flee?" asked Holmes with a smirk.

"Yes. Right," said Watson, leading the way, with barely a hint of his limp showing.

Holmes followed, and he silently berated himself for not recognizing Watson's distinctive step earlier, for falling prey to distracting sentiment and especially for doubting his amazing and loyal friend in the first place.

As they started up the stairs, Watson murmured quietly, "Hopefully, most of the soldiers will be busy lining the walls to watch the fireworks or marching to the harbor to repel the imaginary attack by hordes of pirate scum."

"Hopefully," agreed the tall buccaneer.

"I do like it when a plan comes together," said the doctor, rubbing his capable hands together.

"Well, don't get overconfident," said the pirate, with an amused twitch of his lips. "We're not safe yet."

Then the tall, dark-haired buccaneer slowed his steps, "I wonder…I suppose there's no point returning to the governor's mansion?"

They both advanced slowly now, side-stepping a tied-up, semi-conscious guard, who cringed at the sight of the good doctor. Holmes stopped altogether, frowning at the bonds.

"Watson, what kind of a knots are these?" asked Holmes staring at the ropes tied around the soldier.

"Why…they're a surgical knots, of course. And they seem to be holding just fine," exclaimed Watson defensively.

Then he quickly changed the subject, "Come on. We go this way," said the doctor. He chose the starboard passageway.

They passed through an dark, empty guardroom, lit from the main doorway by a bonfire, which had been set in the middle of the vacant parade ground.

The quiet was broken by a grunting noise coming from the dark corner. Ah, the room was not quite empty, observed the pirate. It was occupied by a fuming, little officer with a bandana tied round his redcoated officer struggled in vain to escape the ropes, which tied him to a chair. His bonds too, appeared to feature more of Watson's unorthodox knots.

The Scourge of the West wisely refrained from mentioning the un-nautical knots a second time. The good doctor was known to be particular and even a bit testy when challenged in his practice of medicine, and surgical knots plainly fell under the bailiwick of medical practice.

Outside the door, came the sounds of tramping boots and the occasional clink of metal. Holmes and Watson stood in the shadows, watching cautiously as soldiers quick-marched across the quad, driven by a hoarse-voiced sergeant.

"It really will not be safe to return to the mansion," announced Watson, returning to the captain's earlier comment, but only after the parade ground was quiet again. "The place'll be swarming with guards, and I do not relish having to rescue you a second time."

Holmes snorted. He did not intend to require a rescue anytime in the near future. "Not to worry, Doctor. I've given the matter some thought, and I'm sure the incriminating documents have already been destroyed, or at least moved to a safe location. There is no reason to return."

"Good," said Watson emphatically, "because I'm sure Mary will be on the warpath."

"Mary? You call her...Mary?"

"Yesss. Of course," said the doctor. Despite the shadows, he saw his captain's frown, "I had to! You told me to woo her! You told me to seduce her and distract her…"

"Well, you must be losing your touch, doctor. She wasn't very distracted, was she? Not if she still found out I was coming to the mansion?" sniped the Scourge of the West Indies.

"I hope you are not implying that she found it out from me! Because I never told her anything, nor did you ever tell me your plans even if I'd wanted to tell her, which I did not," said Watson emphatically.

"I never once doubted your loyalty," lied Holmes stiffly.

"Good," snapped Watson, "And I really don't know why you're complaining about me and Mary in the first place. I never wanted to pretend affection for her. I only did exactly what you told me to do. And I did the very best I could, short of bedding her!" snapped Watson.

"Well, why did you stop there? You're the famous Three Continents Watson!" snarled Holmes, who was inexplicably angry over the whole tawdry affair.

"That was years ago! Things are different now!" sputtered John Watson. "And I thought this was supposed to be an escape, not a scene out of Tom Jones!"

"So that's what this is! An escape!" said a gravelly voice, dripping with venom. "And here I thought it was a romance. At least it explains why you are not where you're supposed to be, either one of you!" said a tall, broad shouldered officer, who leaned against the door to the dungeons. "I did wonder, Doctor. I was concerned when you were not waiting for me. But when I realized you'd vanished, I correctly assumed you'd end up here, back at your master's beck and call," he tsk'ed mockingly. "Miss Morstan will be so disappointed… By the way, whatever did you do with her? The governor was in quite a taking with her disappearance.

Watson pressed his lips together angrily and clenched his fists as he scanned the room, probably looking for a weapon.

Holmes had gone all over ice at the thought of his particular friend, his good, loyal, brave friend who'd been left in chains to suffer the ministrations of that infamous butcher, Moran. Just the thought of what Moran had intended to do to Watson was enough to set Holmes seething, like half frozen water churning between ice floes. His eyes glittered, and he smiled coldly.

"Colonel Moran!" said Holmes. "I've heard so much about you." The pirate captain slowly reached to his side for a sword, which leant against the wall. Perhaps the sword belonged to the trussed-up officer, who'd gone still and silent in the face of imminent violence.

Holmes arm snatched at the sabre, but he was not fast enough.

Moran darted forward and sliced his blade down; it would have taken off the pirate captain's arm, but Watson was there first, using a ramrod to block the sword.

Moran shoved the Holmes to the floor, then strode forward, his blade falling like lightening bolts against the ramrod. Watson held the metal shaft aloft with both hands, as he was driven backwards step by step. With each stroke, the blade danced across the rod and sparks flew up, lighting up their faces-Moran's face was fierce and hungry-Watson's wore a fixed half-snarling grin.

Then the Colonel's sword slipped past the doctor's defenses; the blade sliceing Watson's thigh before he could retreat.

The doctor cried out and loosened the grip on his staff. Amid more sparks, the steel blade drove the ramrod out of this hands; it flew to the floor with a resounding clang.

The ship's surgeon was trapped against the wall. Clutching his leg, he slowly began to slide down the stones, helpless before his smiling foe.

With a savage grin, the colonel delivered the coup de grace, only to be blocked again.

Moran roared with frustrated bloodlust, when his blade locked with the sword held by Holmes. The lithe buccaneer pushed in between the predator and his prey. Holmes stood over his fallen companion, and his arm shook with the effort of repulsing the colonel's brutal strength.

With all his might, the pirate finally heaved the colonel and his sword back, driving the officer away from the wounded doctor. Ashen faced, the surgeon sagged down to the floor, collapsing sideways into a baskets full of bottles and refuse. Bottles clattered and rolled across the floor and the doctor lay as if dead.

Captain Holmes parried each of the colonel's attacks, and the room rang with sword song. Moran's assault depended more on brute force than on finesse, so it was not an elegant battle, but it was a dangerously exhausting one for the lanky buccaneer. Holmes quickly began to tire, as he parried again and yet again against the onslaught, looking for a weakness, an opening.

He stumbled.

And then a bottle came flying and struck Moran's head. The colonel backed off, stunned, a baffled bull shaking his great head.

Holmes raised his sword.

Another bottle followed, striking the big soldier right between his eyes with a hollow-sounding clunk. The colonel sank to his knees, and his blade dropped to the floor, ringing like a bell.

Dripping with sweat, his arm trembling, Holmes turned to see his best friend stumble forward with a jug. Watson raised the clay vessel with both hands and brought it down on the officer's head. Moran fell unconscious to the floor. The jug was tossed to the floor and shattered.

"I never did like him... the nasty creature," muttered Watson, as he tottered, groping blinding for support.

"Idiot!" shouted the pirate captain, gripping one of the doctor's arms. "Stop moving, and let me see your wound," snapped Holmes. He bent down and to rip open the blood soaked gash in Watson's breeches, revealing the bloody wound.

"Hey! Those were my best breeches!" protested the doctor.

"It's deep. It's bleeding," said Holmes.

"You know? I just don't understand," murmured Watson staring at his leg, "Why is it always my leg?"

"Dammit, Watson! Snap out of it. Tell me what to do! A bandage or…or…what?" demanded Holmes, fumbling in his pockets for a rag or bandana.

"Umm, um, I'm bleeding… It's a sword wound," verified the surgeon, who had years of battlefield and shipboard experience and recognized a wound when he saw one.

Holmes made a noise of disgust and grabbed both of the pallid doctor's arms, "Watson, look at me, and CON-CEN-TRATE! What DO WE DO about it?"

"Um. Umm, since it's bleeding? Um… we should put on… a tourniquet of course," said Watson, gathering his scattered wits, "It's not...not all that deep, but needs stitches..."

"We don't have time to put in stitches right now, Watson," said Holmes, gathering supplies quickly.

"Oh no, o'course not," muttered the doctor. "Um, just a bandage then…yes, a very tight, compressive bandage."

"Sit!" ordered the captain, as he shoved the injured man into a chair. "And don't faint!"

"Aye, Sir," said the ship's surgeon weakly.

"And don't even think about dying on me, Watson!"

"No, Captain," whispered Watson, attempting to smile but only managing a grimace.

He blanched further as the pain finally really began to register, and he bit his fist to keep from crying out. Then the captain began to apply his rough version of first aid, and things got very bad for a while.

TBC

A/N Thank you for making it past the really long explanations at the beginning and for reading The Rest of the Story (well, the first part of The Rest of the Story).

Reviews are treasured.

*Nautical or Archaic Terms

18 and 24 pounders-refers to cannons, also called long guns. The 18 pounder shoots... 18 pound cannon balls (Surprise, right?). Obviously, the bigger the ball, the bigger the cannon, the farther it shoots and the greater the damage. Small boats and ships could not carry very large guns due to the weight of the cannon and damage from the recoil. I am not sure if a fort might not have even bigger guns than 24 pounders, (say 32 pounders), but Googling could only take me so far and I didn't have time to re-read the entire Naval Series about Aubry and Maturin by the great Patrick O'Brien which has taught me what little I know about the British Navy during the Napoleonic wars (Please note, I only learned a little because of my limitations. The books themselves are treasure trove of history). (I also lied, I learned a lot about this time period from C.S. Forester's Hornblower novels)

Protection- at the turn of the 1800's, a woman under a man's protection was understood to be his mistress.

Disclaimer-Guess what. I do not own any rights to ACD's Sherlock Holmes, BCC's SHERLOCK or any of their characters. Oddly enough, I also make no profit off of my fanfic entries. :D

Addresses for December Calendar Challenge of Awesomeness and One or the Other do not want to print

So if you want to read the Whole Challenge (which you should, because it's full of great fics by great authors...I don't mean me. I mean the other authors :D) go to fanfics Communities, select Books, then select Sherlock Holmes.

If you want to read the whole ( but very short prologue One or the Other) then go to my profile (which my name is sendai, right?) and One or the Other is chapter 18 under Deck the Halls with Awesome Challenges.