Once again many apologies for the delay in posting. As always, any reviews would be lovely. Sherlock kisses and Watson hugs for feedback. I've taken a bit of liberty with the character of Shimwell "Porky" Johnson. He originally appeared in the ACD story, "The Adventure of the Illustrious Client." In the canon, "Porky" acts as an informant and occasional muscle for Sherlock. Here, he's just a thug. Hope you don't mind me taking liberties. :)

No beta for this chapter either, so if you see a glaring issues, please let me know. Ta.

These lovely characters are from the brilliant mind of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle(and those blokes Moffat & Gatiss from Sherlock). I've just had a fiddle with them.

Chapter 4

The next few weeks were a blur. John noticed a gradual change in Sherlock's behaviour, he was steadily becoming more and more distant. John attempted on several occasions to engage Sherlock in sex. Initially, Sherlock gave in but the last time John tried they were mid-way through when Sherlock abruptly stopped, citing a pressing matter on a case.

"Sherlock!" John said, "We're in the middle of something here. Can't it wait just a few more minutes?"

"No John, it can't," Sherlock replied, and he got out of bed and left John to handle his aching erection alone. That had been over a week ago, and nothing since.

xxx

It finally became clear why Sherlock was deliberately distancing himself. While at the chip and pin machine, John was collected by an all too familiar car with tinted windows. John really was in no mood for Mycroft's cloak and dagger bullshit, but before he could start in on Mycroft, he was greeted with a folder shoved at his chest. It seemed a quartet of assassins had set up residence in proximity to Baker Street. The fact that Mycroft was the one to inform John meant Sherlock most likely already knew about the killers watching them, and decided unilaterally that it was something John didn't need to know. The berk probably thought he was protecting John in some fucked up way. John knew it was the Baskerville case. It spooked Sherlock even more than the incident at the pool, and now he was being overly protective.

Despite Sherlock's best efforts to keep John away from the case, John continued to follow up his lead on Moriarty's man. After more than a week was spent doing nothing other than looking up the names he'd acquired at the block of flats, John found most of the tenants from the building. Every name turned up a face, except for that of a certain M. Aaron Batiness. John also made sure to check the court docket from the day of Moriarty's trial. No match with any of the names. Conclusion? The name was an alias, of course. The name listed as representation for Moriarty was Bateman S. Ronais, but it turned out as another alias with no face to match. So who was this mysterious man that had carnal knowledge of one of the most devious minds in all of London and possibly the world? John decided to stake out the flat and find out. Sherlock was so preoccupied he never even noticed John leave.

Watching Batiness as he exited his building, John noticed there was something about the way the man carried himself, it screamed 'Military'. It takes one to know one after all. John was sure Batiness was not only ex-military, but as he followed the man he could tell by the way he interacted with others that Batiness held a position of authority, an officer no doubt. This realization caused John pause. He was dealing with someone who had Escape and Evasion training same as he'd done during his time in the Army, therefore John needed to be more careful. It was possible Batiness was already on to his surveillance, and was just toying with him until he could catch John out. However, it was too important to find out his true identity for John to just give up.

John followed Batiness into a warehouse and made sure to find a spot where he'd be completely hidden. Sadly, John hadn't realised how long he'd be crouched waiting on whoever it was Batiness was there to meet, and his body began to protest. Batiness was pacing, not nervously though- it appeared to be more from impatience as he kept looking at his watch. Whoever he was meeting was late. Finally, just as John's leg started to shake from being cramped for so long, a portly man shuffled his way into the warehouse. He could have been out for a Sunday stroll in the park at the pace he was going.

"You're late," Batiness spat, clearly put out.

"Yeah," said the heavy set man, in a breezy manner. He had a thick Northern accent. Bradford maybe, John guessed. He wasn't as good with dialects as Sherlock, so he couldn't be sure.

"That's all you have to say?" Batiness was in the man's face in an instant. "You know who I work for, yes? Know he's not someone to be trifled with, correct?"

The man took a step back. "Whoa mate, chill the fook out, yeah? He called me, remember? I had another meeting that ran over, but I'm here now."

The man's answer seemed to wind Batiness up even further judging by the way his jaw was clenching and unclenching. He was keeping his anger in check though, apparently whatever this meeting was for, Batiness needed the chubby man.

"Fine," said Batiness through gritted teeth. "Let's just get on with it shall we? I've got other things that need tending to."

The fat man stuck his fingers in his mouth and made a sharp whistle that brought four other men into the warehouse, each pair carrying a crate between them.

John could no longer hold the position he was in and tried to shift the weight off of his bad leg. In the process of doing so, he slipped and fell banging against the crate he was hiding behind. Luckily, he was still hidden so no one saw what made the noise, but they had heard it. John saw their heads snap up in unison to his location.

"What the fook was that? You're not fixin'ta double cross us here are ya, Moran? We made a deal. I bring guns; you bring cash, simple trade." The hefty man sounded panicked.

"Shut the fuck up, you fat fuck. There's someone here all right, but it's not any of my men." Batiness moved closer to the door, putting the chubby man between himself and the unseen intruder.

John stayed as still as he possibly could, but from the corner of his eye he saw movement.

Batiness saw the movement as well. "Rats! Fucking Rats? You've got to be kidding me with that fucking cliché."

All eyes turned to where John was hidden, only they weren't looking at John. They were looking at the pair of rats going at it near John's head.

"Come on, let's get this shit over with," snapped Batiness. "I've got better things to do than watch rats fucking all day."

For the next fifteen minutes John watched as four AS50 Sniper rifles were removed from their crates and inspected in great detail by the man John heard the portly man call Moran.

Once the guns were approved of, Moran pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. "Your Swiss number, be sure not to lose it. It'll be the only one you receive."

"Wait a fookin minute." The fat man shuffled into Moran's personal space. "This was supposed to be a cash transaction. What tha fook are ya tryin to pull here, Moran?"

"I don't care for your accusation, Shimwell." Moran's eyes narrowed on the man in front of him. "Your money is in a Swiss bank account. Take it or don't, that is up to you, but if you don't take a step back, out of my personal space I'll see to it your fat arse will never walk again. You get me?"

Nonpulssed, the man known as Shimwell "Porky" Johnson took a step back, made a bow at the waist, smiled and said, "Nice doin business with ya, Mr. Moran. Have fun with yer new toys." He then turned and shuffled out just as nonchalantly as he'd shuffled in.

Moran placed all the guns back in the crates and had Shimwell's men load them back up into the van they'd come in. Once the crates were loaded, they handed the keys to Moran and left.

It was at this moment John realised he was stuck. He wouldn't be able to follow Moran to his next destination.

Moran opened the door to the driver's side of the van and climbed in, but before driving off John saw the man look up to his position and smile.