Hello everyone, hope you are enjoying my marathon story! I'm steering a little away from the Fluffiness I'm afraid, this chapter is full of Sherlock Action!

And remember; I own nothing!

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The next morning, Sherlock awoke to an empty bed. He sat up slowly, glancing around the room. No sound, no one and no clothes. Sherlock ripped the duvet off his legs and swung round to place his feet on the floor. He wiped at his eyes and saw that his bedside clock read 1330. He looked at it in surprise, no wonder John was up and about.

Sherlock stood up and pulled the covers with him, cocooning himself in his own body heated bed sheets. Sherlock yawned as he walked into the living room. Sherlock's phone sat on his desk, resting against John's laptop.

Sherlock picked up his phone, saw he had 2 new texts, he opened the first and began to read;

'I'm not dead, lets have dinner''

Sherlock deleted it. So she was alive after all, good grief had Sherlock been so distracted by his new relationship not to notice? He opened the second text with some trepidation.

'You have my camera phone and I need it. You won't ignore me this time as I have taken the protection in the form of your rather handsome colleague, and I think you need him. Propose swap?'

Sherlock's heart stopped. John. He knew Irene wouldn't cause him any harm, but the American CIA agents would if they found them both. Sherlock began texting back furiously;

'When and where? If you have caused any harm to my Watson, I will have no trouble giving you up to the American's – SH'

Sherlock ran to the bedroom, abandoning his bed sheets and wrapping himself hastily in his grey shirt and black trousers. He retrieved his coat from where it had been used the previous night just as is phone gasped in pleasure. Sherlock looked shiftily around; he really didn't change that huh?

'Actually, let's have lunch. At Angelo's'

Sherlock was out the door before he had put his phone back in his pocket, he ran to Northumberland Street, vaguely remembering telling John it was only a 5 minute walk from Baker Street. It felt like 15 minutes to sprint.

Sherlock halted at the next door shop, composing himself. He then walked calmly and collectively into the restaurant, swiftly spotting the female, but no John.

With a nod to Angelo, Sherlock shifted into the booth opposite Ms Adler. She wiped some sauce from her mouth delicately with a napkin.

"Ahh, the man himself." She said smartly.

"And where is the other man?" Sherlock said calmly, albeit a little lower than usual.

"I see I woke you up with my message" Irene cooed, moving her napkin to her mouth to lick it before wiping at Sherlock's face. Sherlock jolted away and hastily rubbed his face clear of her wet napkin.

"Where is John?" Sherlock demanded.

"With Jim" She said with a shrug as though it was obvious.

"What!" Sherlock shouted, the whole café stopped for a minute to look round at them.

"Easy tiger, yes, Jim did worry when I told him you had threatened me." Irene said, finishing her sentence by popping a pasta shell into her mouth.

"Where are they?" Sherlock said in a murderous tone.

"Somewhere safe" Irene answered.

"So, what, I have lunch with you, and just hand over the phone? What is the plan?" Sherlock asked quickly, every inch of him frozen into the seat.

"Jim is going to take it from here. He will tell you the instructions" Irene said, she moved to stand. "To initiate the game, you have to hand me the phone" She said quietly.

Sherlock looked up at her, he didn't have a chance and he knew it. He reached into his shirt pocket and retrieved the camera phone, slapping it into her hand.

"What next?" He asked.

"Go back to 221B Baker Street." Irene said calmly. She bent slightly in order to peck Sherlock's cheek.

Sherlock stood immediately, intentionally missing the intended kiss. He glared at her until she had left the establishment. Sherlock hurried outside to the street. He didn't follow her as would be his first instinct, instead, he ran back to Baker Street. He flew up the staircase and searched the flat. No John. Mrs Hudson hurried up the stairs behind him.

"Sherlock, this came for you 5 minutes ago. Funny sort of fellow delivered it, he looked like our John." Sherlock snatched the red envelope from his housekeeper without a word.

Inside was a phone, a camera phone identical to Irene Adler's. Sherlock stared at it as it started to ring. He answered it cautiously.

"Hello" Sherlock said gently.

"Hello, Sherlock, remember this game?" Sherlock's eyes flew open wide as he recognised John's voice over the phone, it was strained, understandably with the next line that was said. "You have 3 hours, Sherlock. Find out who killed me"

"John? Are you hurt?" Sherlock shouted into the device.

"All I can tell you is that I'm in Battersea" John said weakly.

"I don't understand, John, how can you be dead? You are talking to –" Sherlock stopped talking as there was a loud bang and the phone connection lost. Sherlock froze.

"Sherlock?" Mrs Hudson said timidly. "Sherlock, are you ok?"

Sherlock dropped the phone. His whole body shook with grief. A moment later, he spoke aloud to his body; "No" he couldn't afford to loose it.

He stared at John's empty armchair, and felt what he needed to feel, his body began to shake with another entirely different emotion; murderous anger. A text alert came from the unknown phone.

Sherlock swiftly stooped to pick it up from the floor; he swiped the screen to see that there was a 4 word text from an unknown number:

'There are three of me JM'

He walked briskly past a shell-shocked Mrs Hudson and down the stairs. He waved down a taxi and phoned Lestrade on his own phone.

"Lestrade, get your people down to Battersea, tell them to look for…look for a body" Sherlock said, he hung up the phone on Lestrade's questions and headed for Scotland Yard. He needed to research Jim Moriarty.

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"Sherlock, there is a body at Battersea power station, you were right." Lestrade said grimly.

"Tell me" Sherlock said quietly into his phone.

"Dead man, only been dead a couple hours, big hole in his head, bigger round the back though. Shotgun victim" Came the summarised answer.

"Anyone we know?" Sherlock asked quieter still.

"Not that I know" Lestrade said in confusion. "Its' him again isn't it?"

Sherlock stopped looking at the file in his hands and said one word "Moriarty".

"God help us" Lestrade muttered.

"I'll be down soon" Sherlock said and ended the phone call.

He had already worked out the text he had been sent, 1 hour and 40 minutes had passed, but Sherlock had discovered that there were three J. Moriarty's in London. He needed to get identification on the body as quickly as possible and then he could decide which Moriarty was out of the game.

Sherlock had detached himself completely to work on this; even though, a small hope nagged at his brain – at least it wasn't John. That bang must have been a trick, to try and break Sherlock from his genius, in order to beat him.

As Sherlock travelled by taxi to Battersea, his phone rang.

"Another body Sherlock, another male, found in the Thames, only died an hour or so ago, same wounds as the first. What is going on Sherlock?" Lestrade asked, not expecting an answer.

Sherlock thought a second before replying with; "I have to stop the third, before it happens. Get the Thames body, put it beside the one at Battersea, I will be there in 10 minutes."

Sherlock steepled his long fingers and prepared his brain for his fastest deduction yet. Small flashes of John's face kept surfacing and Sherlock packed each image away neatly in his mind palace's bedroom. He could not afford to worry at this time. He had to keep his calm, no matter what.

The bodies lay side by side as Sherlock entered the crime scene. One middle aged, the other early 20s. Sherlock paced up and down each one, he used his magnifying glass on every inch of each corpse. He searched the pockets. Lestrade looked on, knowing when to be quiet.

Sherlock stood straight backed and lean; he looked out at the Thames in thought.

"Well?" Lestrade asked, looking expectantly at Sherlock.

"Tower Bridge" Sherlock said abruptly.

"What -?" Lestrade asked about to start a tirade of questions when Sherlock interrupted him.

"No Time! Tower Bridge now!" Sherlock stormed off to Lestrades' silver Mercedes. Lestrade sighed and went reluctantly after him, glancing back to the bodies before driving like a madman to Tower Bridge.

Sherlock opened the car window; he searched the bridge wildly for any signs of life. There, he saw them. Two figures on the top ridge, half way across. Uncontrollably high above the dirty river.

"Stop" Sherlock told Lestrade. "Block off the bridge." Sherlock got cautiously out of the car and walked to the other side of the road, where he could see them in plain sight.

The phone rang in his coat pocket. Sherlock answered it vigilantly.

"Well done, you solved my little puzzle of the day" Jim Moriarty's voice slithered down the line and further to Sherlock's spine.

"Yes, tricky one this time" Sherlock replied coolly.

"Well, seeing as I had good leverage, I had to make it a fun day for you" Sherlock could sense Jim's smirk.

"The killing and finding of a criminal and a sailor is not exactly what I would call fun." Sherlock replied looking up at the two figures 42 meters high above him.

"Blocking off the Bridge, Sherlock, tut tut, you are causing a scene! We were up here for ages unnoticed before you turned up" Jim said in a deep voice.

"How long is on the timer" Sherlock questioned, ignoring Jim's dangerously playful mood.

"Well, unless I stop it, he has just under 98 seconds." There was a loud clank as something hit the road, narrowly missing Sherlock, landing at his feet. It was a giant bunch of keys.

"Bye bye Sherlock" Jim sang down the phone before a figure jumped from the top and hit the Thames with a splash. Sherlock dropped the phone and grabbed the keys, he ran to the closest tower, faster than he had ever ran in his life, he struggled with the keys in the lock, finally loosing his cool, he took the stairs 3 at a time, running out onto the highest point of the Tower, he jumped to the ridge and ran along it, finally reaching his John.

Sherlock turned him round, seeing the large counter on his chest reading 10 seconds. Sherlock unzipped it in a flash, noticing at the last minute that there was a padlock hanging from the bottom of the zip. Sherlock noted Johns' decided stillness, probably from fright. Sherlock retrieved the keys Moriarty had thrown to him from his pocket. He jammed the smallest key into the padlock and it clicked open.

Sherlock ripped the explosive vest off of John, throwing it as hard as he could over the side of the bridge, he whipped out the gun from the back of his trouser waistband, vaguely noting John's slight wobble, he thrust his other arm out to catch John just as he shot the flying object before the wind could carry it onto the bridge.

The impact was minimal as the vest set fire to the air. Sherlock turned his attention to the man in his arm, he was pale grey and breathing heavily.

"Always one for dramatics" John said quietly, letting Sherlock know everything was ok with a weak chuckle.

"Come on you" Sherlock said with an uncontrollable smile, he bent down in an attempt to pick up John, but John stopped him.

"I can walk, I can walk, Sherlock" John said in a fluster.

"Yes, but can you jump?" Sherlock said with a nod of his head to the road below. Lestrade had stopped a rubbish lorry just underneath them, a few old mattresses lying at the top of the full skip. Sherlock tucked his hand gun safely away again as John looked down.

John felt his legs wobble again, "Oh no, Sherlock, noo!" John said frantically clutching onto his partner. Unfortunately, on John's last word, Sherlock had pushed them over the edge, one arm firmly around John's waist, the other out-stretched to grab the rope that was hanging near them. Sherlock closed his eyes, praying that the fall arrester would kick in as it was designed to do – but usually with only one person at a time – not with two.

They fell the 40 odd metres to the skip. Sherlock went gracefully, silently, clinging onto John and the rope, the only two things that mattered; he was desperately trying to slow them down waving his legs. Sherlock vaguely noted that John was not a great glider; he would have fallen like a loud stone if they had not grabbed the rope they now clung to. John still yelled all the way down, Sherlock looked up at the device he was holding in silent prayer, the mechanism finally kicked in 20 feet from the ground; they slowed by 15 or 20mph and bounced into the skip with a bang. A cloud of dust puffed out of the skip as the pair landed and two loud groans could be heard echoing around the inside.

"John, John? Are you ok?" Sherlock called frantically, gaining his balance on a cupboard door, he ripped the skip apart to find his partner.

A very grumpy and dirty faced John Watson was revealed when Sherlock lifted a roll of carpet out of the way.

Sherlock sniggered at the sight. "I'm sorry, I couldn't resist" he said, holding out his hand.

John muttered something under his breath but took his hand none the less, using Sherlocks' weight to pull himself to his feet, promptly to collapse again.

"Twisted ankle" The good doctor diagnosed himself.

"Not bad for a deathly fall" Sherlock shrugged, looking up.

"What is that thing?" John said nodding toward the rope hanging into the skip from the top of the bridge.

"Its called a fall arrester" Sherlock said lightly; "Mechanics working on the bridge need a second escape if things go wrong" he continued, smiling at his own brilliance.

John looked at him wearily; "Is there anything you don't know?" he asked defeatedly.

Sherlock used the rope to climb over the skip cage and helped John to do the same before jumping down onto the road surface. He made sure John was on solid ground before he walked to Lestrade.

"Thank you, Lestrade, couldn't have done it without you." Sherlock said and for the first time in his life, he accepted Greg's hand and shook it genuinely.

Lestrade looked completely dumbfounded at the whole situation, looking up at Sherlock's face, covered in black smuts from the skip, he smiled.

"Do you need a blanket?" He asked, still smiling.

"No, but I think John does." Sherlock said with a glance at his companion, who was now shakily hobbling over to him. Sherlock saw the warning signs, however, and grabbed John before he hit the road surface. "Legs a little loose are they? You shouldn't be walking on a twisted ankle, Doctor" Sherlock said gently, he pulled John to his own chest where he let him lean, John was grateful for the gesture, and didn't attempt to stand on his own again.

Lestrade looked at them warmly, on some level he noticed the familiarity they had with each other, but it didn't matter. He watched as Sherlock planted his nose in John's short hair and closed his eyes briefly to inhale. Lestrade allowed them a moment of privacy as he set about sending the ambulance in.

The paramedics saw to every scrape and bruise the pair had received before deeming them fit to be sent home for plenty of rest and recuperation. At which the couple glanced at each other with a knowing smirk.

"Did you see where Moriarty went?" Sherlock muttered to Lestrade as John was being seen to by the paramedic's with the blanket and a bandage to his ankle.

"Naa, we were too busy watching you, the hero of London" Greg smiled and nodded up to the top ridge.

Sherlock smiled slightly before thinking about Moriarty's whereabouts now.

"He can't have survived that drop, Sherlock, he would have hit the water at 100mph" Lestrade justified.

"Anyone can survive a fall, Lestrade, it's all in the landing." Sherlock said, looking downstream wistfully.

"Sherlock?" John called weakly. Sherlock turned on his heel immediately, he and Lestrade walked over to the ambulance. "Why do I have a blanket?" John asked questioningly.

Sherlock laughed.

"Come on, let's go home" Sherlock said invitingly. Sherlock helped John off the ambulance bumper and to stand. A paramedic came round to give John a cane explaining that it had been sitting in the back of the ambulance for years, John accepted it with a thank you.

Just as Sherlock walked off, slowly, with John leaning on him, Lestrade lunged forward to grab the abandoned blanket. He chased after the two men, unfolding it as he ran; he then draped it over both men's shoulders and laughed at their reactions. The pair laughed as they got into a police car to take them home.

"Boys!" Mrs Hudson fussed as they came through the door. The police car driving off with the blue lights still flashing; "What on earth has been going on with both of you today?" She said shrilly, looking from one to the other desperately; seeing their filthy faces, torn clothes and blood patches, not to mention John's bandaged foot and new walking cane.

"Mrs Hudson, we have both been to hell and back today" Sherlock said with a heavy voice "But still made it back for dinner!" He smiled brightly, looking from John to Mrs Hudson.

Mrs Hudson smiled in response before; "I'll get the soup on. Sherlock, get in that shower; god knows where you've been. John, you rest your leg, dear."

Both men smiled and headed up the stairs, Sherlock helping John climb each step.

John groaned as he landed in his own armchair. Sherlock landed in the one opposite him; "Did Jim say anything to you today? At all? A plan, what had inspired this? Anything?" Sherlock questioned.

John was silent as he tried to think; "Well, Ms Adler was on the phone to him a lot. He was the one who picked me up this morning in a taxi – I was only going to buy milk at the shop. He made me deliver an envelope to here, then took me to Battersea, put that damn vest on me. Made me watch as he introduced himself to that first person; Jason Moriarty, the criminal that he had brought out on bail this morning. He shot him, point blank, with a shotgun of all things. Poor guy didn't stand a chance."

John sighed as he remembered it.

"Then there was Jeremy Moriarty, one of the crew on a Thames boat cruiser. He didn't even speak to him, just identified him and shot him from the shore; the man fell into the water, I'm amazed you found him."

"Lestrade found him" Sherlock said quietly.

"Jim then just said that there 'wasn't much time' and he asked me questions that I refused to answer. The rest, you know" John finished, fidgeting with his left thumb.

Sherlock stood and walked to the window thoughtfully. His mind racing as he tried to think of reasons, motives, further moves. He barely heard the next sentence that came from the man behind him.

"Thank you so much Sherlock, you're always there when I need you" Sherlock turned to John.

"You are now grounded you know." Sherlock said calmly, with no humour in his voice. John looked up questioningly. "From now on, you are not to leave my side, not even to go for milk" Sherlock said seriously.

"Sherlock, I can't not go out on my own. Isn't that showing them that they have won?" John said incredulously.

"I don't care" Sherlock retorted. "I don't care what they think, I only care…about you" Sherlock became very animated in logging into John's laptop.

John smiled at the detective, at his detective.

Mrs Hudson bundled through the door with a tray of food. So much for just soup, there were sandwiches, full plates of sausage, egg, beans, bacon and black pudding and three cups of tea.

"Come on you two, get seated" she cooed. "Oh, not you, dear, you stay there" She said when she caught sight of John. She made sure he was comfortable, before giving him the tray with his food on it. She loved to fuss over the two as if they were her sons, and in a way, they were. Mrs Hudson confiscated the laptop from under Sherlock's fingers, receiving the glare of death as she set down the plate of food in front of him.

The pair ate their food silently as Mrs Hudson watched over them, sipping her own tea. She took away the empty plates and called her goodnights as she left the room and pattered down the stairs.

Sherlock turned to John with a thoughtful expression.

"Thinking about Moriarty?" John asked quietly.

"No, no, nothing like that" Sherlock said with a wave of his dismissive hand. "I was actually wondering if you fancied a bath" he continued quietly, looking at his feet. After a short silence from John, Sherlock looked up at him. Their eyes met and they smiled widely at each other.