Chapter 1

"John, I need you to stay outside."

Sherlock looked at John Watson with such a look of intense determination that John lost the ability to speak for a moment.

"What...why?"

"Just please listen to me John," said Sherlock. "This is something that I must do on my own."

Watson couldn't believe his ears. The blips of emergency personal around him were the only things that kept him teethered to reality. Otherwise he'd be sure he was dreaming. Although, Sherlock insisted on going in alone whenever he thought danger was near, so it wasn't uncommon, but every time he let Sherlock out of his sight, his life was always laid on the line.

"I can't," said Watson. "You'll get cocky. You'll get in danger."

Sherlock smiled a half smile at Watson before clearing his throat and saying, "I'm serious. Stay here."

Sherlock turned to walk off on Watson when he spoke up, "Am I going to have to come to your rescue?"

"I think you know the answer to that one John," said Sherlock, smiling as he walked past the police officers that were milling around.

"Oy Sherlock," called out Lestrade. "I can't let you go in like that. I have to give you a vest."

Sherlock stopped and turned to give Lestrade a look as he approached him with a bullet proof vest. Sherlock put the vest on and Lestrade handed him a gun.

"Just incase," said Lestrade as Sherlock slipped the gun into his coat. "I don't want you getting shot in there."

Sherlock nodded his head in understanding before straightening up and walking toward the doors of the ramshackled warehouse.

As he entered the warehouse, he was immediately greeted by darkness. The whole place was encased in darkness, save for the stream of light that was streaming in from a window nearby.

He looked around him as he walked, making himself aware to even the slightest noise. He reached the end of the main room when he noticed a lone chair sitting there. Thinking that was peculiar, he walked closer to it, gripping the handle of the gun underneath his coat, prepared to use it if necessary.

He stood in front of the chair and examined it. Why was this chair here, empty? He was suppose to be here negotiating a hostage situation.

Unless...

"Hello Sherlock."

That voice. Slowly, Sherlock turned to look at the owner of that familiar voice. It was none other than James Moriarty, living and in the flesh.

"Surprise," he said with a small smile. "I'm not dead. Did you miss me?"

He still kept his hand on the gun handle, not sure if he would need to use it or not.

"Did you miss me?" asked Moriarty again as he walked toward Sherlock, his footsteps echoing off the warehouse floor.

"I missed you as much as would be expected," he said as he studied him.

That caused Moriarty to smile a little bit wider.

"Now that I'm back Sherlock, I won't go away again."

Moriarty slowly starts to circle Sherlock.

"I have come back to ruin you."

"Didn't you try that the first time?" asked Sherlock. "It didn't exactly pan out, remember?"

"Yes, but this time I have a better game plan," said Moriarty as he stood in front of Sherlock.

"Really?" He studies Moriarty.

"Yes really." Moriarty nods to the chair behind Sherlock. "Why don't you have a seat and I will tell you all about it?"

Sherlock took a seat on the chair, but still watched Moriarty like a hawk incase he decided to try anything clever.

"It doesn't matter what you think I can or cannot do to you, Sherlock Holmes. I will ruin you," said Moriarty with a wicked smile on his face.

"Ruin me?" asked Sherlock, a chuckle emnating from him. "You can't ruin me."

Sherlock watched Moriarty, who was pacing back and forth in front of him.

"Pity that you didn't die when I wanted you too," said Moriarty. "I thought your blood would be a wonderful addition to the sidewalk. It needs a renovation."

"Moriarty, I outsmarted you. Just admit it."

"NO!" shouted Moriarty, his shouts echoing off the wall. "No," he said softer as he glared at Sherlock. "I have won. You just don't realize it yet."

Sherlock could feel his cell phone vibrating in his coat pocket. He really wanted to pick it up and answer it, but he knew that he couldn't. Not with Moriarty watching. Watson would be here any second now anyway to see how he was faring. He knew him. Even when he told him to stay out of the line of fire, he always had to jump right in front of it.

Moriarty walked over to Sherlock and placed his hands on each of the arm rests, bending to get right in his face.

"You, Sherlock Holmes, are about to fall in a way that you'd never expect."

"And what way might that be?" he asked as he searched Moriarty's eyes, waiting for an answer.

"It'd be no fun if I told you. It'd ruin everything," responded Moriarty. "You'll see soon enough."

Moriarty backed up momentarily and handed Sherlock a device that looked similar to a cell phone. He took one out of his pocket himself and started to dial a number into it. Soon the cell like device in Sherlock's hand started to ring.

"Pick it up," said Moriarty as he put his to his ear.

"Why?" asked Sherlock as he looked at the device in his hand.

"Do it," said Moriarty with a slight smile on his face. "If you pick it up, your curiousity will be satisfied. You'll know how I'll ruin you."

"SHERLOCK!"

He could hear John's voice far away in the warehouse. Moriarty turned briefly behind his shoulder to look into the darkness, seeing the beams of flashlights flashing about in the darkness feet away. He turned back to look at Sherlock with a smirk playing across his face.

"Pick it up Sherlock," repeated Moriarty.

Hesitating for one more minute, Sherlock placed the device to his ear as he picked it up.

The last thing he remembered was seeing a malicious smile spread across Moriarty's face as an electric charge hit the side of his head, making him lose consciousness.

When Sherlock came to, he was lying on the cement floor of the warehouse. Had he fallen out of the chair when he had gone unconscious?

Groaning slightly, he pushed himself up into an upright position and looked around the warehouse with blurry eyes. He could see people walking about the area. A group of them were carrying an unconscious figure away; John was trailing behind them, his head hanging down.

"John," he choked out as he shakily rose to his feet and attempted to walk over to him.

John stopped dead in his tracks and turned to look at him with hate burning in his eyes.

Wait. Hate?

John marched up to him and punched him square in the jaw, making him see stars.

"What was that for?" Sherlock groaned, feeling weaker than he already was.

"If Sherlock is dead," said John, glaring at him, practically growling. "I will kill you myself."

"But...but I'm...," he stammered, trying to get rid of this dizzying sensation.

"You're Moriarty," growled John. "And you'll be dead soon."

John immediately turned on his heels and marched after the group of people again.

What was going on?

Sherlock walked over to the two cellular like devices that were both lying on the ground, forgotten in the moment. He bent down to pick one up and started to examine it. What had just happened? Why had he gotten shocked? He could see his face in the warped reflection of the screen and immediately gasped.

John was right.

He was Moriarty.