A/N: Before I continue I want to say thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far! :D I love you guys! Anyhoo, enjoy the next installment!

A few days after his dinner with Sebastian John was walking to work, as per usual, when an all too familiar black town car pulled up next to him as his mobile chimed a text alert. He pulled the phone out of his pocket and opened the message, already knowing who had sent it.

Get in.

-MH

As if on cue the back door of the car swung open. John considered ignoring the command but he knew it would just get worse if he refused now, so he reluctantly got into the car and let it whisk him away. As the car drove he stared aimlessly out the window until he realized he recognized the route. He cursed under his breath as the car, as he had predicted, pulled up outside of 221B Baker Street. The car had barely stopped before John was getting out and storming into his old flat. He walked right passed the rather shocked Mrs. Hudson, taking the steps two at a time until he stood in the now-empty living room. Mycroft stood next to the fireplace, his umbrella in one hand and a file in the other.

"Dr. Watson," Mycroft greeted.

"Mycroft," John growled, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the other man, not ready to face the reality of where he was standing just yet. "Why did you bring me here?"

"I want to talk to you," Mycroft replied, pleasant as always.

"Yeah, I've actually been getting that a lot lately," John said.

"I know."

"So what's this all about? I would have thought you were done with me after, you know…" John trailed off, unable to finish that sentence.

"After Sherlock's death?" Mycroft finished the thought for him. "Yes, I rather thought so, too. But it has come to my attention that you've recently become…friendly with a man by the name of Sebastian Moran."

"Yeah, so?"

"Come now, even you aren't that naïve. Surely by now you know who he is."

"Yes, I do, though I don't see how any of this is your business."

"He's a dangerous man, John. He's killed lots of people."

"So have I."

Mycroft smiled at him indulgently. John stared back challengingly.

"Has it occurred to you-" Mycroft began.

"Yes," John cut him off, knowing what he was about to be asked.

"That he could be finishing what Moriarty started?" Mycroft finished the question, ignoring John's interruption.

"Moriarty didn't want me dead," John said confidently.

"Didn't he?" Mycroft inquired.

"If Moriarty had wanted me dead, I would be dead. Same goes for Sebastian. If he was going to kill me he would have done it already."

"You seem awfully sure of that."

"Look, all we've done is talk and the last time I checked, that wasn't exactly illegal."

"You could talk to anyone in London and yet you chose a professional assassin."

"He's as good as anyone else I know."

"Really?" Mycroft asked skeptically. John nodded firmly. "Very well." He held out the folder he was holding. "This is Sebastian Moran's file. I've given you the day off from work. I'd like you to read through this and consider if this is really someone you want to let into your life."

John accepted the folder begrudgingly. "And whatever I decide, you'll respect that?"

"Of course. Anthea will swing by your flat tonight to pick it up. Inform her of your decision. Good morning." With that Mycroft left, leaving John alone.

John set the folder on the mantelpiece and turned to survey the room for the first time in months. The flat was almost unrecognizable without all the furniture and experiments. The wall had even been patched over where Sherlock had shot it. John ran his hand over the intact wallpaper, fighting down the urge to shoot a smiley face into the wall. Moving to the kitchen he reflexively opened the fridge, now spotlessly clean with not an appendage in sight. Closing it, John continued to move through the flat, struck by how very hollow and empty it seemed without Sherlock and he could feel his breath starting to hitch. Eventually he found himself standing outside the door to Sherlock's bedroom. He hesitantly pushed open the door to find that the room had remained undisturbed to the point that if he didn't know better he would think someone still lived in it.

John sat down on the bed, gathering one of the pillows into his arms. He stayed there for a long time, fighting back the tears threatening to run down his face. He closed his eyes and lay back on the bed, staying there for a long while, just letting the smell of Sherlock surround him. Laying there he could almost imagine that Sherlock was still alive, ready to come back from a case.

There was a clatter from outside the window and John sat bolt upright, eyes snapping open. He sprang to the open window and looked out to find nothing. Even though he knew it was stupid he couldn't help but feel disappointed. He sighed. Sherlock Holmes was dead, and no amount of wishing on John's part was going to bring him back. Berating himself John went back to the living room and grabbed the file he had left on the mantle before descending the stairs without glancing back.

"John!" Mrs. Hudson called happily once he had reached the bottom.

"Hello, Mrs. Hudson," John greeted, allowing a hug.

"I must say I wasn't expecting this," Mrs. Hudson admitted. "Do you want some tea?"

"No thanks," John declined reluctantly. "I have to get back. Sorry."

"Of course, dear, no worries," Mrs. Hudson assured him. "I'll be seeing you, then."

"See you," John said, exiting the building. The car that had brought him to Baker Street was gone so he hailed a taxi. Once he had told the driver his address, he settled back and opened Sebastian's file, scanning through the contents.

_x_x_x_

Sebastian was woken up by the sound of his mobile. Grabbing the phone off of his bed stand he blinked at the screen which was currently telling him he had an incoming call from a restricted number. Sitting up, he accepted the call.

"Hello?"

"Good morning, Mr. Moran." Sebastian recognized the voice almost immediately.

"Mr. Holmes," he replied getting to his feet and walking into his kitchen.

"Ah, good, you know who I am."

"What do you want?"

"There's a car downstairs waiting for you. I would be much obliged if you would get into it."

"And what will happen if I follow this request?" Sebastian asked suspiciously.

"I'm not interested in killing you or having you arrested, if that's what you're worried about."

"Then what on earth could you want with little old me?"

"I wish to speak with you."

"So talk. There's no need for this to happen face to face."

"You do realize I could have you killed right now."

"I'd like to see you try," Sebastian snorted, stepping to his left. There was a moment of silence from the other line.

"What did you do?"

"You think I don't know you've been watching me? Really, Holmes, you're losing your touch. It only took me two days to find this blind spot, you know. There's actually three more of them, in case you were interested."

"Very well, we'll talk now."

"Excellent. I was starting to get bored."

"Mr. Moran, I would like you to cease all contact with Dr. Watson."

"No."

"I would be willing to offer you a considerable amount of compensation."

"No," Sebastian repeated.

"It's not too late for me to change my mind about imprisoning you," Holmes' voice remained mild despite the warning.

"Like I said before, I'd like to see you try," Sebastian said, voice hardening. "You'd be dead before you could give the order to bring me in."

"Threatening me won't work," Holmes replied, voice matching Sebastian's.

"Likewise, Mr. Holmes."

"If I might ask, why Dr. Watson?" Holmes changed the subject rather abruptly.

"Maybe it's because he's just so adorable, but I find there's something irresistible about him."

"I'm being serious."

"So am I."

"I could make life very difficult for you if you don't stop meeting with him."

"Back to the threats are we? No wonder Jim hated you so much. You're so repetitive."

"Mr. Moran," Holmes began.

"Nope, you're done." Without ending the call he opened the drawer behind him, one of his many storage places, and grabbed one of his handguns. He then proceeded to shoot out every single surveillance camera in his flat, barely moving from his position. "Goodbye Mr. Holmes," he said into his mobile before ending the call. Putting the phone down on the counter he reloaded the gun, making sure the safety was on before putting it back in the drawer. He walked back into his bedroom to get ready for the day. He had an ex-army doctor to visit.

_x_x_x_

By lunchtime John wasn't even through half of Sebastian's file. So far there was little that surprised him. Sebastian had been born and raised in London, went into the army at eighteen with no criminal record, came out injured three years ago, and was recruited by Moriarty. Since then he had worked mainly for Moriarty as both an assassin and a bodyguard, evidence suggesting he was even put in charge of Moriarty's empire when the criminal mastermind was out of the country. Of course, there was still a good portion of the file to go through, though it was mainly information on Sebastian's suspected victims.

John set down the folder, deciding it was as good a time as any to take a meal break. As he walked to his fridge he was surprised by the sound of a knock at his door. He was only half-shocked to discover Sebastian on the other side.

"I'd ask how you know my address, but I don't think I really want to know," John stepped aside, gesturing Sebastian inside.

"Hello to you, too," the sniper said as he walked into the flat. As John closed the door, he spotted the file sitting on John's kitchen table. "I see you've been talking to the Ice Man recently."

"Who?" John asked as he came to stand next to Sebastian.

"The Ice Man. It was Jim's pet name for Mycroft Holmes," Sebastian explained.

"Oh. Yes, he kidnaps me from time to time and tries to control my life. I like to think we have a special bond. Tea?"

"That would be lovely, thanks." They both moved to the kitchen, Sebastian sitting down at the table as John began gathering everything he would need. "So, find anything interesting?" Sebastian asked as he flipped through his file.

"Haven't really got into it yet," John replied as he grabbed mugs from a cabinet. "I'm not sure Mycroft would appreciate me letting you see it, though."

"Like there's anything in here I don't already know," Sebastian rolled his eyes.

"Fair point," John conceded, sitting across from the sniper as he waited for the tea to be ready. "So what brings you here?"

"What, a guy can't just drop in on a friend?" Sebastian asked innocently. John raised an eyebrow. "All right, fine. Holmes the elder gave me a call this morning."

"Really?" John looked surprised.

"Yes. Tried to intimidate me into leaving you alone, actually."

"I take it that he was unsuccessful," John said wryly.

"You could say that," Sebastian chuckled.

The kettle finished boiling then and John got up to finish making the tea and Sebastian went back to flipping through his file. John served the tea and sat down again.

"So, what exactly do you do now that Moriarty's gone?" John asked, taking a sip of his tea.

"What I've always done," Sebastian shrugged, picking up his own mug. "Just because Jim is dead doesn't mean his criminal empire is. There are still branches of it out there, and those in charge still want assassins."

"So you're still killing people, then?" John asked carefully.

"Of course I am. It's my job." Sebastian frowned. "I thought you knew that. If it's a problem for you I can go."

"No, it's fine," John found himself saying, even though the soldier part of him felt rather uneasy.

"You're sure?"

"No, not really," John admitted. "But I did live with a man who kept human heads in the fridge. I think I can deal with this."

"Seriously? He actually kept heads in the fridge? I thought Jim was making that up."

"Well, it was really only the once," John reflected. "Though there were a lot of other body parts. Donovan found human eyes in our microwave." Sebastian let out a low whistle.

"And I thought living with a man who made bombs out of kitchen appliances was bad."

"Yes, well, we can't all have the perfect flatmate, now can we?"

"Speak for yourself. Jim used to write equations on the walls in permanent marker."

"Oh please. Sherlock used to shoot the wall," John countered.

"Are we actually having an argument about which one of them was a worse flatmate?"

"Yes, I believe we are." They both stared at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter. Once the laughter subsided they sat in a companionable silence until Sebastian checked his watch.

"Damn," Sebastian cursed, getting to his feet. "I need to get going. I have to meet with a client."

"Oh."

"Problem?"

"Just... try not to kill too many people, will you?"

"Well, I was going to be going on a murder spree, but since you asked so nicely I think I'll have to reconsider," Sebastian said jokingly as he made his way to the door.

"Oh, just go," John replied, rolling his eyes.

"Thanks for the tea," Sebastian called as he let himself out.

"Anytime," John called back. The door closed and John sat back in his chair, mind working furiously. He idly thumbed through the thick file in front of him as he seriously considered the situation. A high-functioning sociopath whose idea of fun was chasing serial killers was one thing. Someone whose actual job was to kill people was a whole different story. Still, John couldn't deny that even though he had only known the man for such a short time he felt oddly comfortable with Sebastian. Then he took another step back and realized he was actually debating with himself whether or not he should befriend an assassin.

John groaned and slumped further into his chair. There really was no such thing as normal in his life anymore, was there?

_x_x_x_

A couple of hours after Sebastian left someone rang the doorbell. Guessing it would be Anthea he grabbed the folder off of his kitchen table before opening the door. Anthea didn't look up from her Blackberry when the door opened, she just held out one hand. John gave her the file.

"And your decision?" she asked, tucking it under her arm and continuing to text.

"Tell Mycroft that he isn't a part of my life anymore," John said firmly. Anthea did look up at that and gave him an almost amused look, but then just nodded and walked away.

_x_x_x_

Mycroft looked up at the sound of his office door opening. Anthea stepped into the room with Moran's file.

"Well?" Mycroft prompted as she closed the door behind her.

"It worked, sir," she informed him, stepping forward and placing the folder on his desk. "Watson intends on continuing his association with Moran."

"In that case, double our surveillance on Dr. Watson. And have them replace the cameras in Moran's flat," Mycroft ordered. "And do make sure there aren't any blind spots this time."

"Yes sir," Anthea replied with a nod, whipping out her Blackberry and starting to text. "Anything else, sir?" she asked, not looking up from her phone.

"That will be all for now," Mycroft told her. She nodded and left, leaving Mycroft to plan his next move.

A/N: Just so we're clear, I don't dislike Mycroft particularly, but for the purposes of this story he will be an antagonist of sorts. Just so you're forewarned.

Also, I realized in the previous chapters I didn't do the best job of showing how affected John is by Sherlock's death, so I hope I did a better job in this chapter. Let me know, will you?

So, love it? Hate it? Want to stab me in the back with a rusty spoon for writing it? Let me know!

-badgermushroom out! :d