Author Notes: I must apologize for the late update, but RL (and especially the College part of it) kept and still keep me busy.^^ Please bear with me, I will update as often as possible.

Enjoy the new chapter for now! :)

Could be dangerous

I swear here, on the private pages of my diary that I`ll never wish for a near death situation again, especially not for one in which the life of my friend, Holmes, is at immediate risk, but in chronological order.

It was almost a month after the enlightening conversation with Holmes, when a series of gruesome murders got the attention of my brilliant friend. At the time, five men had been found stabbed to death, in some back road or another, over the course of seven days. I didn't know where Holmes got his information from, since the newspapers neither revealed any details about the victims nor would I have seen a connection between the murders. The short articles only reported, every time, that a man had been found dead and that he hadn't died of natural cause. Usually, the journalists were much more throughout with their investigations and I would have thought that they would have reported by now if a serial killer was suspected of the crimes. Neither did that happen nor did Lestrade or anyone else from the Yard knock on our door to seek out the help of my friend. Still, I didn't doubt Holmes one second, when he broke to me that only one man was responsible for all these murders. He had a way of seeing patterns, where everyone else only saw chaos and I was ready to help him with his investigations should he have need of me.

The occasion didn't arise as fast as I would have liked. Holmes fell back in one of his old habits of appearing and disappearing in one of his many disguises for a week, in which I didn't hear or see much of him. I couldn't even guess where he went and so I occupied my time with reading and enjoying the first warm spring days as I ventured outside, but all the while I hoped that my friend would take me on another adventure yet again. My prayers were answered on the seventh afternoon, after Holmes had started his investigations.

"Do you have plans for this evening, Watson?"

I smiled at my friend. He knew that I spent most of my evenings in his company these days and I would have told him if I planned on going out to a pub with my mates from the club. Therefore, I treated the question as a rhetorical one as I turned my whole attention to Holmes. "Where are we going?"

A predatory smile pulled Holmes' lips upwards as he sat down cross-legged in his armchair. "I'll pay a visit to a pub called The seven sirens and spend a couple of hours in this establishment, before I'll leave. You, my dear Watson, will have to wait outside, without being seen and follow me as soon as I leave. I'm sure that our killer will also be hard on my heels at that point. I have made sure, this past week, that he has become aware of me and feels the need to vanish me off the face of this earth."

I leaned back in my armchair and grabbed for one of my cigarettes, although my body was urging for something stronger. Usually, I didn't indulge in drinking at this early an hour, but I felt the sudden need to settle my nerves with a cognac. It weren't news to me that Holmes set himself up as the lure for a criminal - he had done so often enough - and I hadn't questioned this method so far, but this time there appeared to be more at stake than usual. My friend had invited murderers, thieves and blackmailers to our flat, but every time these traps had been set up very carefully. Firstly, the police had always been involved and the culprit had always had to act on Holmes' terms. The risk of failure had been low on these occasions, this time though...

"You don't seem to agree with my plan, Watson. If you are afraid for my safety, then consider that I intend to take one of the best shooters in England with me." I smiled slightly at the subtle compliment, but Holmes' words weren't enough to put my mind at ease. "The seven sirens..."

"Ah," Holmes clapped his hands together and nodded at me. "Excellent, you are already aware what kind of pub it is. Did they warn you in the army that it would be a bad idea to be seen in there and that you should stay away from it?"

It wasn't a real question, but I still nodded. There were many pubs in London, which were frequented by a special sort of men and although their names or locations might change, everyone who paid a little attention could figure out where they were. I was a little amazed that The seven sirens still existed, since our officer had warned us from exactly that pub, when I had started my military career years ago. Most of these pubs were closed by the police at some point, since they were considered a shame for London. I suspected that only the more exclusive establishments were protected from such consequences. Establishments, where the lower classes weren't welcome.

"I hope you aren't too shocked that I spent the last week at this establishment, my dear chap."

I furrowed my brow as I regarded Holmes' rigid posture. So far, I hadn't contemplated what my friend would have had to do in order to pass as one of the regular patrons. I didn't think that he had followed one of these men home, since I couldn't picture Holmes being so careless, but he would have had to do something. I grinded my teeth as I imagined him at the bar, exchanging meaningful innuendos with strangers or worse allowing one of them to... touch him in a dark back alley behind the pub. The anger at that thought must have radiated from my face, since Holmes averted his gaze.

"I see."

I blinked as I noticed the resignation in his tone as he fixed his eyes on the flames in the fireplace. Was it possible that Holmes had misinterpreted my expression for the first time since I knew him? The thought was almost blasphemous, but I couldn't come up with any other explanation for his sudden mood swing.

"If you are so uncomfortable with it, then I won't ask you to accompany me, Watson." I practically jumped up from my armchair as Holmes got up and hurried in the direction of his bedroom. Before I could think about it, my hand had grabbed his wrist to hold him back. His sharp blue eyes focused on me and it took my whole courage to meet his gaze. It was always a little irritating to look into his eyes, which seemed able to feel out every secret about a person. "I won't let you go on your own, Holmes and I'm not uncomfortable with the location."

My friend regarded me with an unreadable look. "Yet, you were angry, when you thought about what I must have done this past week."

I nodded, it was the truth after all. "Yes, but I wasn't angry at you, but on your behalf. I know that you don't like to be around strangers, Holmes and I felt angry, because you were forced to play this part. If the police had done their job..."

"The police won't do their job - or will do it even worse than usual - because they aren't interested in arresting the murderer and that's why I had to resort to this plan. Even if I brought all the evidence I gathered to them they would take longer than necessary to act and our man would have fled before they could even think of arresting him."

I accepted that Holmes didn't mention the past week and I pushed the burning anger at what he probably had endured to the back of my mind. Holmes didn't put himself through anything he couldn't handle, but I still felt that it would have been better if he had let me in on his plan sooner. We could have played the part of total strangers to each other and Holmes wouldn't have had to interact with other men to make his inclinations believable.

I started at that thought. It was one thing to protect your friend, but to imagine how it would have been to act like lovers... I allowed the thought to pass for now so that I could focus on more important matters. Later would be enough time to puzzle it over. "I presume we will have an early dinner before we go out."

"Yes, I already told Mrs. Hudson that we will be eating in an hour. It would serve our purpose well to be dressed for our outing by then, Watson." I nodded at Holmes, who didn't notice it as he had sat down in the armchair again, packing a pipe. "Don't forget your gun."

I almost laughed at his reminder, as I wouldn`t go chasing after a murderer without it and Holmes was well aware of this fact. Therefore I didn't deem it necessary to reply and instead turned towards my bedroom. Holmes' voice held me back. "If it's of any importance to you, my dear friend, I didn't enjoy the last seven evenings at all."

I didn't admit it to Holmes or myself at that time, but when I hurried to my bedroom to get dressed for our adventure, I felt more at ease after his statement.

OOO

The nights were still cold. I pulled my cloak closer around me as I lit yet another cigarette. I had always hated waiting, even when I was in Afghanistan, the waiting had always been the worst. Half hidden in a dugout, the loaded firearm at the ready and my loyal men next to me, I had always hoped that the attackers would arrive sooner rather than later. When the battle started, I knew what I had to do, how to aim and shoot, make sure that my comrades and I made it out alive. More often than not there were injured soldiers and dead comrades to take care of, but I could handle that. What I couldn't handle was... waiting.

A sigh escaped my lips as I took out my watch to check the time. Holmes had entered The Seven Sirens almost two hours ago and if I was to believe him, he would soon leave with the murderer on his heels. My task was to wait in a hidden street corner, from which I had a good view of the entrance of the pub, and follow my friend and the culprit.

I touched the revolver, which was hidden under my waistcoat, just to put my worries at ease as the bell beat the tenth hour. Holmes and I had survived much more dangerous adventures or so I tried to tell myself, when a shiver of foreboding ran down my spine. My friend had revealed to me that all the victims had been regulars of the pub and that the police didn't feel the need to investigate their murders intensively, because they were of the opinion that sodomites didn't deserve a less gruesome end. I concluded for myself that the murderer held the same beliefs, otherwise Holmes' plan didn't make much sense.

The bell sounded again and when the last echoes of the sound trailed away, the door of the pub finally opened to reveal my friend. I freely admit that I wouldn't have recognized him, if I hadn't seen him in his disguise before. His hair appeared to be of a deep red in the light, which filtered through the opened door and although I couldn't see his face at the moment, I know that the lower part of it was covered by a huge beard and a mustache. His clothes weren't of the same high quality he normally preferred, but his simple and used looking trousers and the light cloak had to lead to the conclusion that he couldn't afford newer clothes and that he might be a member of the working class. At least it meant that no one would recognize my friend in this place, since I didn't want rumors to make the round through London. Holmes' reputation would have suffered from it and I knew how much he hated to be the focus of everyone's speculations. It wouldn't matter if he had done anything that might justify their words - in this very pub or in the past - it was his business and no one else'... maybe mine, but that was about it.

Occupied with my thoughts, I almost missed a second man leaving the pub. I watched as Holmes glanced and then nodded at him, before leading the way down the street, the man - the suspect - followed two steps behind him. They must have arranged some sort of rendezvous like it often happened in these establishments. I counted to ten, before I followed behind them.

It was still relatively early in the evening and there were enough pedestrians in the streets to give me cover. Only when Holmes started to use back alleys, it became more difficult to chase behind them, without being noticed by the suspect. Still, the chase felt much better than the waiting. My body hummed with energy and anticipation and I felt like a hunter stalking its prey. Soon, very soon, we would catch a violent murderer and I felt all my former worries vanish as that thought became my sole purpose. They slammed back into me full force, when I rounded the next corner and saw the empty street in front of me.

Panic rose in me as I noticed the junction at the end of the small street. I had lost sight of Holmes and worse... of the man, who was a suspected murderer. I knew that my friend was capable of defending himself, he had proven it numerous times, but I was also aware that Holmes was counting on me. He hadn't told me to bring my revolver for nothing and I had... Calm down!

I forced myself to take a deep breath and my legs to move. Panic would neither help Holmes nor me. If I wanted to help my friend, I had to clear my head from any interfering emotions and use the skills I had picked up from Holmes, during our decade long friendship. I was just about to inspect the ground at the junction to conclude in which direction the men had turned, when a muffled scream from my right reached my ear. Holmes, my mind concluded as I sprinted down the dark alley and drew my revolver at the same time to have it at the ready. It was a wise move, I realised when I stumbled into a blind alley.

The only light came from a streetlamp, on the other side of the stone wall, which separated the alley from another one. Still, it was enough to make out the two men, which were intertwined in a deadly embrace. My training in the army paid off, as I only needed a mere moment to analyze the situation. The stranger - who was even taller than my friend - had slung one arm around Holmes' waist and held him against his chest, while his other arm was pressed against his throat. Light, reflected from where his hand touched the vulnerable flesh of my friend led me to a horrible conclusion. The bastard held a knife to Holmes' throat.

I couldn't fathom how he had managed to get my friend in such a position and I feared that my incompetence was the reason as to why Holmes' life was threatened. If I hadn't lost track of them... No, now was not the time for self-reproaches. No was the time for actions. I abandoned my cover and stepped into the light. The focus of both men shifted to me at once.

"Throw away your knife and let go of him!"

My voice was steady, commanding like it used to be when I beckoned an order to my men. The rush of danger hummed through my veins as I took another step towards the culprit and my friend. I would have pulled the trigger if I hadn't been afraid to miss and injury Holmes instead. Still I hoped that the sight of a loaded revolver would be enough to bring the murderer to his senses. Unfortunately, I was wrong.

"I won't do that and I suggest you, Sir, turn around right now and forget what you have seen here. I assure you that the death of this man won't be a loss to humanity. He is a pervert and he led me to this place to satisfy his twisted urges with me. The police will rather arrest you for shooting me than me for killing this sodomite."

Anger rose in me at his words and I had to restrain myself from pulling the trigger as I tried to remain calm. It was almost comical when you thought about it, I didn't normally react to insults aimed at me, but when someone dared to offend Holmes to my face, it was hard for me to keep my composure. My friend was the most brilliant man, I knew, he excelled in everything he did. I often thought that people, that didn't recognize his genius had to be pitied. They missed out on so much and yet... I was happy that it was mostly me who got to witness his beautiful mind at work. That bastard wouldn't take my friend away from me.

"Let him go," I growled and shifted my weight to have better aim at the head of the man. Something changed in his face, I couldn't put my finger on it, since the light was barely bright enough to judge the best angle for a shoot, but his focus shifted from Holmes to me. "You are together in this."

I froze. Had he seen through Holmes' trap and realized that everything had been planned from the start to arrest or kill him? I didn't know how a man like him was going to react to such a realisations, but he didn't appear to be going down without a fight.

"Is that some perverse game of you sods? Do you get off when you see him with someone else or did you want to join in and have a lick as well?"

The blood boiled in my veins at his words, but not for obvious reasons. Every other man would have been offended at the accusation of being a sodomite, but I wasn't. From my perspective, it was much closer to a compliment than to an insult, if someone assumed that I was worthy of being with Holmes in any way. I was proud to be his friend and my anger bristled at the assumption that I would like to see a stranger touching him in an intimate way.

"I'll soak the ground with his filthy blood and the police is going to stand around his dead body and spit on it, while his soul rots in hell."

I grinded my teeth as I fought down the impulse to abandon my revolver and throw myself physically at the murderer instead. Holmes wouldn't appreciate such an emotional outburst and it could very well cost his life, although I hadn't yet figured out how to save him with the help of my revolver. Even if I got a clear shot through the man's head, it could still mean death for my friend. I have seen men firing one last shot or slicing the throat of their opponents, after their brains had been splattered on the ground. It was also impossible though to aim at any other part of the murderer without hitting Holmes. My only hope was that I were able to distract the criminal long enough to figure out how to get both of us, Holmes and I, safely back to Baker Street.

"How does it come that you think you have a right to murder these men?" It wasn't the most original question, but I had learned long ago that some suspects enjoyed boasting about their crimes and I hoped that he wasn't an exception.

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Holmes' body sagging a little against his attacker. He leaned more heavily against his side now. I just hoped that he hadn't been injured prior to my arrival. It was impossible to make out any blood in this light and I couldn't tell if Holmes had gained a head injury which was taking its toll by now. If possible it made me even more determined to save him.

"Only a pervert like yourself can't understand why I did it. Men like you are an abnomination, you shouldn't be allowed to walk on the Lord's earth and breath the same air as respectable men." I didn't take the time to correct his assumptions about me. It wasn't important what the bastard thought about Holmes or I. He was nothing more than a target which had to be eliminated. "Maybe I should make sure that you are arrested for murdering your friend," the last word was spat like something especially filthy. "I'm sure you will have a great time in prison, surrounded by men, that haven't seen a woman in years. You would probably even enjoy yourself, when they bend you over a table and..."

Everything happened so fast then, that I wasn't able to recall the details. One moment, Holmes was pressed against his attacker, appearing to be only semi-conscious and the next second he moved like a professional fighter. I was only able to gape as he threw himself around and drove a fist in the kidney area of the man, whilst disarming him at the same time. The knife clattered to the ground as the attacker doubled over and sank to his knees. My brilliant friend stepped behind him and I expected him to bind the culprit with a pair of handcuffs he had obtained from Lestrade at some point, but Holmes took another step back, away from the murderer.

"Shoot!"

I only hesitated for a second before I pulled the trigger. The noise of the shot echoed from the walls around us as the culprit fell face down to the ground, a gaping wound in his forehead. A puddle of blood dyed the street at our feet red, but I didn't feel any remorse at the sight. The poor bastard had threatened the life of the most brilliant man of this area - who happened to be my closest friend - and death was a very mild punishment for that non-indictable offence.

"Hurry, Watson, we have to go before some worried resident alerts the watchmen."

I didn't question him, as I hadn't questioned his command to shoot, as Holmes gathered the knife of the culprit and then led the way through the labyrinths of London's back alleys. We had only rounded two corners when I heard hasty steps running in the direction of the crime scene. The police must have arrived and if Lestrade deemed it necessary to consult my friend with this crime Holmes would have to decline if he didn't want to get me arrested or pretend that he wasn't able to solve the case. I couldn't even start to guess which of the two options, he would find easier to make. It would be hard for him to pretend that he couldn't solve a crime, but declining a promising case... what would the Yarders think?! A mad chuckle escaped my lips at that thought - probably a reaction to the upsetting events of the evening - and I stopped running as I felt another laughter threatening to burst out.

"We don't have time for a nervous breakdown now, my dearest friend. You will have to wait until we are at home."

Holmes' hand closed around my wrist as he led me hurriedly through the streets of London and back to our flat. He didn't give the chance to lose my nerves, as long as the door to Baker Street 221B wasn't closed firmly behind us.