It had been two days since his last meal when Mary invited him over for dinner. He was about to decline when she handed the phone over to John. There was suspicious whispering before he spoke into it.

"I know you haven't got a case, so come tonight. For me."

He threw his trousers onto the floor and dug through his dresser drawers for his one pair of jeans. John had insisted on casual attire and they were the only thing he owned that weren't tailored pants or jim jams. The jeans had a dark wash and a slim cut. They were almost snug but since he wouldn't be eating much it shouldn't be a problem. His fingers worked the buttons on his purple shirt. John's lingering gaze seemed to indicate he favored this one. He left his heavy coat and wrapped up in a leather jacket he found in the back of the closet instead.

Mrs. Hudson handed him a bouquet of flowers on his way out the door. The woman always seemed to know where he was going and why. He pecked her cheek lightly as he left. A short cab ride later he knocked on the front door of John's flat.

"I'll get it!" he heard John shout. The door opened and John's smile quickly melted into something else. His eyes went down Sherlock's frame then back up again.

"Here, from Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock said, pushing the flowers into John's arms.

"Uh, thanks. You look good…well. You look well."

"Dinner's ready, boys!" Mary called from the kitchen.

"Half a mo, Mary!"

John closed the door behind him, stepping out onto the landing with Sherlock. Their breathing made clouds of white smoke in the chilly London air. The air was full of the smell of burning fires. Sherlock worried the inside of his lower lip as he waited for John to say something.

"Christ, it's cold," John muttered, rubbing his fingers together.

"We could go inside," Sherlock suggested.

"Not yet."

The air between them felt delicate. John was so warm, so alive. Sherlock moved a step into him, closing the space between them. He wanted John to touch him so badly. He reveled in their closeness, fingertips almost brushing.

Sherlock choked down the words that wanted to empty themselves from his throat. John was married now. He didn't want a relationship; he wanted a friend. Sherlock knew better than to act on his urges because if he did John would walk away, home to Mary, and never come back. The fear of it was paralyzing and so he stood unmoving, his mind shivering gently as it was flooded with endorphins.

John's gaze snapped up to Sherlock's face and Sherlock felt his teeth pulling at his bottom lip. Slowly, ever so slowly, John moved his fingers to Sherlock's hand. He took it in his own and held it tight. After a few seconds he took the other one too. They stood there, holding hands in the coldness that was London. John moved nearer and Sherlock heard himself moan low and soft in quiet desperation. John had to know how hungry Sherlock felt for his touch, for that first kiss. Sherlock dropped his head. It would end them.

John suddenly moved away as the door opened and Mary popped her head out. She gave him a quick little questioning glance from the corner of her eye.

"What kind of trouble are you getting to out here? Oh, bit nippy isn't it. Come inside already."

"Actually I can't stay, Mary," Sherlock said quickly. "There's been a murder in West End. I was just coming 'round to see if John could join me."

"Sherlock, have a bit of dinner first. Either way I'm going back inside."

John looked down at his feet, then across the street, and finally found Sherlock again. Sherlock held up his cellphone so that John could see the text from Lestrade.

"Oh, there's a case. An actual case," John said.

"Yes of course there's a case," Sherlock replied. "Why would I tell Mary there was a case if there wasn't one?"

"No reason at all."

Sherlock waited while John hurried through a plate of spaghetti, sitting on the opposite side of the large dining room table. The overpowering smell of garlic completely turned him off of the meal, although he did accept a small piece of bread to make Mary happy, nibbling at it impatiently until John finished. Mary watched them both with narrowed eyes as she picked at her pasta.

They shared a cab, each quietly sitting in their own corners within a silence that was hard to break. At one point John tentatively reach out to where Sherlock's rested on the seat before he tucked it back into his pocket again.

Sherlock read through his texts as the rode further on into the night.

This looks personal. Wait until you see what I mean. –GL

Personal how? –SH

Where are you? –GL

Arriving shortly. –SH

"Wait here," Sherlock told the cabbie, leaving John to dole out a few pounds to ensure the drivers cooperation.

The location was remote and dark. The police had set up work lights along the perimeter and were stomping their feet and crossing their arms to stay warm. John could clearly see five bodies laid out in a neat row behind a layer of yellow police tape.

"Christ," John said as he got closer.

"You can see why I called you out. I'm guessing this has something to do with Moriarty," Lestrade said.

"Very observant," Sherlock replied sarcastically.

"Why is Sherlock wearing a leather jacket?" Lestrade muttered to John.

"No idea."

The first body was that of a petite blond wearing a red coat. The man next to her could have been John but had a slightly heavier frame. A butcher, going by the callouses on his fingers and the telling muscularity. There was a woman closely resembling Molly with a white labcoat and long ponytail, and another that looked vaguely like Mrs. Hudson. The last body was that of a man with thinning silver hair. He didn't look much like Lestrade, but the message was clear.

"It looks like a warning," John said.

"Mmmm."

"Is he threatening you or trying to make a statement?" John asked.

"Looks like he's threatening you and me. I don't see Sherlock down there," Lestrade muttered. "Does this make any sense to you Sherlock?"

"Yes."

"So what do you think?" Lestrade asked desperately.

"I think you should stop talking," Sherlock snapped.

John knelt besides him and Sherlock felt a spark of something fly between them. John must have felt it too because he closed his eyes and cleared his throat.

"The alignment of the bodies in a row indicates equal probability of each becoming a target. The only question is who Moriarty will target first. One of the bodies should be different from the rest. I just can't see how," Sherlock said.

John methodically went from one body to the next, shining his small torch down throats and into eyes held open with one thumb. He carefully studied each victim as if he had all the time in the world. That was why Sherlock trusted his conclusions. There was a breadth of experience Sherlock didn't have. John was the perfect compliment.

"John?" Sherlock let a small smile touch his lips.

Concentrate.

"So, victims all killed around the same time, probably one after the other. They don't appear to be related in any way except, you know, they look like the only people in the world that don't think you're an obnoxious prick. Cause of death is the same for all of them though. They were strangled. Make-up applied post mortem to the women. Yeah, that's all I've got."

"No, they can't all be the same. Something is different!"

"Hey, I need to clear these bodies out, Sherlock. We need to wrap this up," Lestrade said.

The data moved around in his head, searching for a place that made sense. Five victims meant five targets. Three of the five were previous targets. Molly dated Jim from IT and Mary used to work for Moriarty.

Think think THINK.

"Molly should have been on Moriarty's radar and she wasn't. She was a missing fourth target. That would make her a logical choice as the next victim. She's trussed up in a costume with that lab coat and her hair. But so is Mary!" Sherlock spat.

"Yeah, except that jacket doesn't look anything like Mary's. It's not even the same shade of red," John said.

Sherlock grabbed John's shoulders and grinned.

"Of course! Molly's in danger. Listen to me, Lestrade. Do exactly as I say. Find her and put her in protective custody. Don't let her be alone until you hear from me. Then post surveillance around her flat and St. Barts."

"Okay okay, I got it! It'll get done," Lestrade said, trying to reassure him as he pulled out his phone and turned away.

"Why is he targeting Molly of all people?" John asked.

"He knows he missed her before. There were three people he had snipers on, each with orders to shoot if I didn't jump. One for Mrs. Hudson, one for Lestrade, and one for you."

"But he didn't include Molly," John said.

"He didn't think she was important. I'd never shown any attraction to her so he knew she wasn't a romantic interest. I manipulated her feelings towards me to get what I wanted thus I didn't consider her a friend. His presence in the lab as "Jim from IT" was to confirm that Molly wasn't someone I cared about. He was wrong. He made a mistake and he knows it."

John cleared his throat and consulted the ground beneath his feet before he answered.

"You don't look very happy about all this. Last time Moriarty put on a show you were ecstatic."

"The lives of everyone I care about are at stake. Am I supposed to be happy?"

"You were before. Said it was Christmas."

"Things have changed, John."

"I think you've changed," John said.

Sherlock made a noncommittal sound as he typed out a message on his cell phone. Then he turned and walked away. John trailed close behind him and Sherlock could feel him watching. He felt his skin warming under his collar and was glad he had it turned up to hide the red blush creeping up his neck.

Notes: There's so much tension between our boys in the show and this chapter really emphasizes the chemistry between them. As much as we think of only Sherlock as the third wheel, Mary is also acting in that capacity. Sherlock evolves in his character and as a human being throughout each season of the show. I wanted John to acknowledge that. The next chapter it title "A Message".