A/N This is AU, some of the things haven't happened and I haven't even seen all the episodes (I do not want to see all of them yet, I will go through them too fast) Some of what I wrote is what I have learned about the show online, what what I knew already and some stuff is totally my own concoction. Please forgive me if there are any inconsistencies. They are all mine. And sadly Sherlock... well he isn't, but good lord I wish he was. But alas, he belongs to John ;)

Happy reading :)

Chapter 1. John deduces

John was pacing the floors at the apartment of 221B Baker Street. It wasn't the first time, nor was it going to be the last time. It was after all Sherlock that had just ran off. And no matter how much he hated not knowing what was going on with the detective, he couldn't be happier that the mad man had by some sort of a miracle come back to him.

The two years without the high functioning sociopath had been the worst of Johns life. That is saying something, considering the older soldier had seen death and destruction for years around him. If not in war then in the hospital. But after those two years he had become very protective of his detective. He didn't want to lose his best friend. He didn't want any more scars decorating the pale skin. And no matter how much Sherlock explained that it wasn't John's fault, he couldn't help but feel guilty. After all the mad man hadn't trusted John enough to let him on the secret sooner. And because of that lack of trust, even if Sherlock insisted it wasn't about trust, John couldn't be to kill the fuckers who dared lay a hand on his Sherlock.

That was another thing. In those two years John realized that how he felt about Sherlock wasn't as "not gay" as he had hoped. And now he had married Mary. And well he wouldn't, if he had known that his Sherlock was alive.

After about five minutes of contemplating, or brooding as Sherlock would have said, there were a lot of stumbling steps and high voices that startled John out of his, state. As he looked at the door he saw Sherlock with a black eye and a cut lip and a very tired looking Mary at a gun point held by Lestarge.

"Sherlock, the hell is going on? Are you okey? Let me get you ice." John started to hassle right away, must be the doctor in him, or something.

"Seriously, your wife is held at gun point and you are worried about precious Sherlock, who is it that you love really?" Mary spat out, surprisingly amused but also very annoyed.

"Yeah well, you aren't the one who is bleeding, and I have a feeling that you aren't held on gun point just because you have been a bit not good. And you should already know who I love. If you didn't you must have been quite blind."

With that John scrambled out of the room to get the ice and came back. He set a cloth on Sherlocks face, so the ice wouldn't burn his skin and set it carefully on the hurt area. No matter how gentle John tried to be he saw as Sherlock winced out of pain. No matter how much of a genius the fucker was, he was still a mere mortal. Not that the dolt would ever admit that out loud.

"So would someone like to let me in on the reason of why my beloved wife is held at gun point? Or should I let Mary on a secret first?"

"What are you on about John?!" Mary spoke with a startled tone.

"Let's see if I actually surprise Sherlock here, and get something quite right with my mere commoner deductions." John looked at Sherlock as if asking for permission to ruin Sherlock's moment on the center stage.

"Be my guest my John, it kind of hurts to talk anyway."

"Did Sherlock just admit that something hurts? Be still my heart, the hell must have frozen over." That definitely earned a glare. But John saw the crazy detective wasn't mad, the twinkle in the eyes and the careful curling of the lip told how much Sherlock actually enjoyed the little banter.

"So you Mary, aren't actually called Mary. You are Martina Moriaty the daughter of the great Moriaty family that held a lot of power and prestige at an older date. You and Jim Moriaty that died the day Sherlock disappeared are actually brother and sister. You both held enormous respect towards your father, who at one time was a lot like Mycroft, all powerful without anyone knowing."

As John tells how he sees things, Sherlock is surprised to have learned something he hadn't known. At the same time Mycroft stepped in the house and nodded at John, not wanting to disturb the story he just silently sat on the side of the table.

"I do not know how exactly the power your father held vanished but either way it did. And he killed himself when he lost all the power, didn't he? Oh, don't bother Mary to ask how I know, I'll let you in on the secret soon enough. "

Sherlock looked at John with pride that didn't go unnoticed by Mycroft. But on top of pride there was love. Sherlock, for once in his life actually loved another human, and Mycroft realized that all the pain and suffering had been for this older soldier. No sacrifice was big enough for the man, as long as John was safe. A part of the secret leader was glad, his brother finding love. But a part was worried of how sentiment would get in the way of Sherlock and his Work. No matter how he wanted Sherlock to be happy he also wanted him to be safe.

"So you and your brother, Jim Moriaty, decided you would take that power from Mycroft back. But instead of attacking Mycroft, who you knew would be up for the war, you thought that Sherlock would be a good victim. Because he was probably the only one you could hurt that would cause pain and distraction for Mycroft. What you hadn't thought about was how the Holmes men do not quite function the same way as the rest of us. "

"Enough John of the chit chat, get to how you figured things out, most I already knew, but how did you figure out that Jim was related to Mary?"

John mumbled something about being an impatient fucker but continued non-the less.

"Well she had a photo of him in her wallet, you know sentiment and all. I had accidentally seen it once and thought I just saw wrong because of the stress and all. But after a while I started seeing sides to Mary I hadn't before. So, I kind of looked through some of her stuff. I found letters between her and Jim that cleared my suspicions. I found out how she actually orchestrated a huge part of your death, or well what she thought was your death. It was later on that she realized it had not actually been you, when she realized Jim was nowhere to be found."

Mary, or well Martina really, seemed to have gotten paler. Sherlock found out a lot of things and they had been accurate, but to be blamed for doing things for someone because of a business deal and to be related to that person were two different things. She looked at Mycroft with a glare, this was all his fault.

"If you had just let my father continue in peace this wouldn't have happened. He did exactly what you do, yet no one judges you and everyone judged him. And the respect he had was over in one night, because you couldn't help but intervene. How do you think it made me feel, Jim feel, when we find our dad hanging from the kitchen lamp? With a note that he had nothing more to live for as you took all from him."

"Martina, what your dad did was support criminal behavior, including drug trade, sex trade and so much more while I try to get rid of it, with the help of my little brother. And it was your father who didn't notice that he had you and Jim. He found the legacy to be more important than his children. And that is something that no respectable man does. Really, I find it sad how much you looked up to your dad, not even realizing that he had left you without any reason. "

Martina even handcuffed tried to attack the most powerful man in London, if not the whole world, and as expected failed miserably. She found herself very fast against the wall of the small apartment with yet another gun pointing to her head.

"Mary Mary Mary, shouldn't you have at least calculated a bit how the situation is, there is a police officer with a gun, and trust me he would shoot you with no second thought and then there is me, an ex soldier with paranoia and trust issues, and on top of all that two high functioning sociopaths that share very deep bond of brotherly love even if they deny it to their very core. Do you honestly thing it was a smart move to do? Hmmm, my darlin' wifey?"

"Piss of. You ruined everything for me and Jim. We would have been able to execute our plan, if your detective wouldn't have been all googly eyed for you. It is disgusting really, how in love both of you are and how well you pretend you aren't. Every time you were with me you probably wanted to just be fucked in the ass, some man you are. Can't even get pleasure from a real woman. It was pain to pretend to be your wife anyway."

John merely raised his brow, never pegging Mary, well Martina, to be homophobic. He saw Sherlock look slightly uncomfortable and only now realized that Sherlock always cared when John denied his gayness or well bi-ness really. It had never been about John being in denial. It was more about protecting himself because he assumed Sherlock would never give a damn either way.

"Really Martina, you should know now that I do not get offended of talk like that. What makes a man real or not real, isn't who he sleeps with or how lunatics like you describe them. What makes a real man is how he sees himself and how he treats others, but then again it is hard to recognize a real man since your daddy and your brother dear, weren't much of an example now where they."

"Do not talk about them you swine, you know nothing about them. They were great people. More than you will ever be. I swear to god I will avenge their deaths, one way or another. You just wait. You aren't done with me yet."

Martina had a manic look in her eyes and he facial features looked more of a demon than a human. Her threats weren't really that frightening thought. Considering she had her face against the wall and two guns pointing at her head. But it was kind of humorous for the men in the room to listen to her spew some nonsense. It didn't take long for the men to catch up on everything, and 'Mary' was taken to the police station. For now, it was quiet again.

As everyone was leaving Sherlock and John were left behind, looking at each other, both too nervous to speak up. Something in the room shifted though, and the detective couldn't help but stare at the kissable lips of his brave soldier. If only he could reach out and...

To be continued, hope you liked it thus far, please do comment and tell me what you think ^^

xoxo,

GreenEyes