Okay so I'm a terrible, horrible person. Actually I lost my beta reader somewhere and my friend Ashley was nice enough to start doing so for me. Hi Ash! And I'm in the middle of a cross country move (again) so I've been busy. But I can say for sure the last chapter of Profiling International will be up before December 14th as I won't have steady computer access after that. And I'd also like to say thanks to everyone who's been leaving reviews, they're awesome! And yes that includes the constructive criticism ones (though I haven't had a chance to address those yet). Anyway, here's chapter six!

Reid did get some sleep, but only just. He wasn't afraid, so much, as determined to finish what he'd started. Lestrade had come round to the hotel almost immediately after Reid had called and given him a gun and holster. He wanted Reid to be on a protective detail as well, but he nixed the idea. It would be hard enough to find a safe way to talk to Watson; it'd be even harder with cops following him around.

As soon as Lestrade had gone, he'd received another text from the mystery witness. "Have plan for tomorrow. Do what I tell you and you should be able to avoid Moriarty and his men."

Reid texted back, "Who are you? And why are you helping me?"

"You'll find out tomorrow," was the response.

Reid went to bed, thoughts still troubled. He'd made sure to get a message to Garcia that the rest of the team may be in danger. He then turned off his cell phone. He knew that Hotch would want him to come back straight away. But Reid couldn't do that.

So, when he got up the next morning, he was unsurprised to find two voicemails. One was from Lestrade, urging him to enter protective custody, another from Hotch, telling him not to be stupid. He sighed, and when he got the first text message, he was ready to face the day.

It took nearly an hour, with various transfers. He took a bus, two taxis, one train and another bus in order to be sure he wasn't being followed. Finally, he found himself at the bedsit. Reid went inside, and the man at the front desk didn't even ask him to sign in, or look up from his magazine. So he went up the stairs. His knee hurt as he went up, and by the time he'd reached the third floor, it was aching. He found Dr. Watson's door and knocked. He was surprised when the door opened of its own accord.

He pulled out his gun and, carefully as he could, went inside. "Dr. Watson?" Reid called. The room looked all right. Nothing appeared to be disturbed. He stepped farther in, wondering what was going on. And worried that perhaps he was too late, and something had happened to Dr. Watson. But when he heard a click behind him, Reid stilled.

"What are you doing here?" A male voice asked.

"I'm looking for Dr. John Watson."

"Why?"

"I need to ask him some questions about Sherlock Holmes," Reid said, deciding it was best to be honest.

He could hear the man walking around to face him, gun still pointed at his head. "Drop the gun." Reid did so immediately. "Most members of the press don't carry guns."

"I'm not with the press. I'm Supervisory Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid, I'm with the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the Federal Bureau of Investigation."

"That's quite a mouthful." the man, who Reid assumed was John Watson, put his gun away. "I saw you on the news yesterday. They say you're trying to prove Sherlock's innocence."

"I'm trying to, yes."

"What's stopping you?"

"Can't say."

John picked up Reid's gun from the floor and asked, "How'd you know I was here?"

"Mycroft Holmes. He gave me your address. He said people had been threatening you because of Sherlock." Reid stated.

"He's right. I'm surprised that he told you, he wouldn't even tell Mrs. Hudson or Lestrade where I am." He gave Reid his gun back, and Reid holstered it immediately.

"He couldn't help me much with the profile, aside from information about Holmes as a child."

John didn't respond to that. But he asked, "I'm gonna get a cuppa. Wanna come along?"

"Cup of what?" Reid asked.

John chuckled, shaking his head. "Tea, coffee, anything really, but it usually means tea here."

"Oh… Okay then." They left together and went to a shop around the corner. John got tea, while Reid got an obscenely large cup of coffee, which he then proceeded to drown in sugar.

"Want some coffee with your sugar?" John asked.

Reid smiled sheepishly. "Habit. I'm used to not sleeping while I work. Caffeine and sugar usually help."

"He was like that, wouldn't sleep if he was on a case, or eat. You know, in all the time I knew Sherlock, I don't think I ever saw him eat. Except once, when I was writing up a blog post." John said. They took a seat at a booth near the windows, and they were silent for a few moments.

Reid broke the silence first. "Are you aware of the I Believe in Sherlock movement?"

"Yes, Mrs. Hudson told me. I don't have much to do with it, but I see the graffiti sometimes."

"Graffiti?"

"Yeah, they've got these stencils… Here I'll show you." John took out his phone and clicked over to some pictures. The stencils were of Sherlock Holmes and Jim Moriarty. The ones with Holmes said, 'I believe in Sherlock Holmes'. The ones with Moriarty said, 'Moriarty was real'. They were in various spots in and around London, and some had been in turn vandalized with the words 'fake' and 'fraud'.

"I'm pretty sure Jackie and Bree's daughter is responsible for the stencils. And a friend of Sherlock's who's a graffiti artist has been passing them around as well."

"Aren't your former neighbors the ones who started the Sherlock trend on Twitter?"

"Nah. They've helped a lot to spread it around, but I'm pretty sure that Mary is the one who came up with it. Sweet girl. She and Sherlock never really did get on. But she did respect him." John smiled. "She was a bit of a delinquent, but when Sherlock and I moved into Baker Street that changed pretty quick."

"How so?"

"Oh she couldn't get away with anything with Sherlock there. He'd tell her mothers when she was skiving off classes at uni, or worse. She got back on track though. Or at least was when I last saw her."

"When was that?"

"About six months ago."

"When Holmes died?"John seemed to blanch at that and Reid backpedaled a bit. "Did Sherlock often fight with other people?"

"God, all the time. Sherlock didn't believe in holding back. Or he didn't know how. He liked to show off how smart he was. I think all clever people are like that. Ramble on about something they know, bit of trivia they find interesting but no one else would care to know."

Reid felt a bit of embarrassment at that, since he knew he was guilty of the same thing. "How did this lead to the fights?"

"Well ,there was the time he told Mrs. Hudson her boyfriend had a secret wife. Turns out there were actually two. He called out Anderson on his affair with Sgt. Donovan. One Christmas, he managed to embarrass me, Lestrade and Molly Hooper all in one go. Poor Molly, I thought she was going to cry."

"Sounds like he was difficult to live with."

"Actually he was only really horrible when he was bored. Couldn't handle life without a case." John laughed as he said, "You know one time, we were walking down the street at Christmas time and this Father Christmas asked him what he wanted as a gift. He yelled at the man he wanted a big, fat, juicy murder. Scared the hell out of him, several kids, and their parents."

Reid laughed too, saying, "I read that on your blog."

"Seen it then? And his website?" John asked.

"Yes. I was disappointed that he took down the entry about the analysis of tobacco ash. As far as I know, there are 243 varieties available in England, though I'm sure he also means cigars and loose leaf tobacco. In America, there are 151 brands of cigarettes alone, and I hadn't thought to see if there was a way to distinguish between the types simply based on the ash. I'll have to ask the forensic analysts at Quantico if that's possible, and,if so, we need to start instituting the study of it, as there are many criminals who smoke, and it could help narrow down suspects in future investigations."

John just stared at him for a moment, and then asked, "You know how many brands of cigarettes there are in America? Do you smoke?"

"No, not even once," Reid replied.

John just looked surprised for a moment but he smiled. "That's amazing. I think you're one of the few who would have found that entry interesting. Most people found it boring or too technical. As I said, he did love to show off. He always said, 'genius needs an audience'."

"He's right," Reid replied, but didn't elaborate.

"He didn't do it you know," John told him seriously. "I don't care what anyone says, including him. He's not and never was a fraud."

This caught Reid's attention. "What do you mean by 'including him' Dr. Watson?"

John sipped his tea and then he looked at Reid. "I was on the phone with him, before he jumped. He told me he was a fraud and that he was going to kill himself. His last words were, 'Goodbye John', and he tossed his phone aside and jumped. But the thing is… I was never as brilliant as Sherlock, but as smart as he was and as good of an actor as he was, he was a terrible liar. And he knew he was lying."

"So you also support the theory that Sherlock Holmes was genuine in his displays of intelligence and investigation."

"It's not a theory!" John snapped, practically shouting. Suddenly, everyone in the shop was looking at them, and John toned his voice down. "I lived with him for ages, and I knew him better than anyone, even his brother. And he was brilliant. He was never a fraud, it was all a game by Moriarty to burn Sherlock. That's what Moriarty threatened him with when he strapped a bloody bomb to my chest!" He was glaring at Reid now, who sat there, unmoving and unaffected by John's outburst.

The young doctor finally broke the uncomfortable silence that followed. "I believe you. And I believe in Sherlock Holmes."

Relief washed over John's face. "I am so glad to hear you say that. Do you think you can convince Lestrade?"

"I'm pretty sure I already have. I know the rest of Scotland Yard is probably going to blow me off, but the profile will still be on record." Reid leaned forward a bit and added, "It's like what I told them: Sometimes it's not about the parts of the profile that fit, but the parts that don't. And he doesn't fit. And there's been a new development that indicates Holmes is innocent. I can't tell you what because it's an ongoing investigation, but I can assure you, it's significant."

"Oh thank God," said John quietly. Reid was worried he was about to cry, but he didn't.

They fell into silence again, Reid sipping his coffee and John drinking his tea. The silence was interrupted when Reid's phone went off. He smiled sheepishly and answered. "Hello?"

"Hello, my dear," the voice on the other end replied, and Reid froze.

"Can I help you?" Reid asked.

"Tell me where you are, and maybe we'll see… Oh, that's right, I already know. How is dear Dr. Watson?"

"Fine, just fine." Reid juggled with his phone as he said, "Would you hold for a moment?"

"Anything for you."

Reid put the phone down and got out a business card, saying, "If you can think of anything else to tell me, or just want to talk, call me. And you should probably, y'know, leave your current residence."

"I was just thinking the same. Think I'll pop over to the Diogenes Club, give Mycroft a piece of my mind. Not much point in keeping my location secret if he's just going to give it to everyone," John replied and Reid chuckled.

"True. It was nice meeting you Dr. Watson."

"Please, call me John. I'll be in touch."

John got up and left first, then Reid picked up the phone again. "I see you managed to find me."

"Took a while too! You and Johnny boy must have had one very long chat! Was he telling stories about me?"

"Only that you strapped a bomb to his chest."

"Oh I love that one! It's one of my favorites. So! What will it take for you to meet me alone, with the files?"

"Your promise that you won't hurt anyone."

"Ugh, you're so boring! Fine. I give you my word I won't hurt anyone. Meet me at Bart's would you? After all, you should see the scene of the crime. For your profile."

Reid swallowed hard, but nodded, saying, "Yes, I'll meet you. What time?"

"Three hours. Get a good meal in, maybe make a few phone calls to the people who will miss you. I'll be listening, so don't go trying to warn anyone. Otherwise, my man will be paying a visit to dear Diana Reid. She's still at the Bennington Sanitarium isn't she?"

"What have you done to my mother?!" Reid hissed.

"Nothing yet, and if you want it to stay that way, follow my instructions. Understand?"

Reid gulped and nodded. "Yes, I understand."

"Good. See you in three hours, Dr. Reid."

"As you say… Moriarty."

Whew! Okay and we're getting ready for the last chapter now! Hang on to your seats.