WELL, SORRY THAT I HAVEN'T UPDATED IN A LONG TIME. EXAMS PLUS WORK PLUS AN EXTREME CASE OF WRITERS BLOCK PREVENTED ME FROM WRITING THIS. I HAD TO WRITE THIS CHAPTER OVER AND OVER ABOUT TEN TIMES BECAUSE I WAS JUST NOT HAPPY WITH IT. I HOPE THAT YOU LIKE IT THOUGH…THIS IS THE BEST CHAPTER OUT OF ALL THE OTHER ONES I TRIED TO WRITE. EHH…NOT MY BEST CHAPTER EVER, BUT WHATEVER…ENJOY ANYWAYS.

Sherlock remained silent. Not because he wanted to, but because, truly, he did not have an answer for her. Choose between the love of his life or the woman who had helped him along the path of sobriety and stayed by his side, not out of penance, but because she had developed a very close relationship with him? They both had things he admired and both had things he was bothered by. Irene was a beautiful, young, vibrant woman who had eclipsed the whole of her gender. She was on his level intellectually and had proved to be the one he'd want to spend the rest of his years with. She had, though, faked her death as an attempt to keep him safe. He could think of many ways she could've sent him some sort of evidence that proved she was well…and alive. But, no. She had kept him thinking that she was dead and that had caused him to spiral down into his drug and alcohol addiction. This was where Joan came in. She had invaded his home, broke down his walls of security, made him resent her, and forced him to confide in her and trust her. And he loved her for that. That's it…he loves her. He loves the way she smiles…he loves the way she pushes her way into his business so she can understand him…he loves the way she is so eager to learn his ways, his skills, and well, learn about him. He had never had someone care about his well being before, and well, he had to admit he had started to enjoy it.

Joan frowned. "I see." She paused. "Your silence speaks volumes. You've picked Irene and once again, I'm forgotten."

"Joan, I-"

Joan cut in. "No. I get it. Your girlfriend is your priority…but you have been warned. She is working for Moriarty and if you are so blinded by her being here to see that, well…that's not my problem. Not anymore." Joan composed herself and left him at the top of the stairs. She descended the stairs and opened the front door. She turned and looked up at him, half wishing he'd run down the stairs, take her in his arms and tell her that he chose her and no one else. But to her dismay, he stayed in the spot where she had left him, staring at the floor and not at her. "And once you've come to realize the mistake you've made, picking her and not me…It'll be too late. I'll be gone, but don't worry…you'll have her." She spat venomously. She stomped out onto the porch and slammed the door behind her.

Sherlock took a step forward, attempting to chase after her, but Irene's hands were on his shoulders.

"It's alright," She cooed, "We'll get through this together."

Sherlock spun around and looked into her eyes. "You're right. We'll get through this together."

Irene let out a confused laugh. "I just said that…?"

Sherlock's eyes became shadowy. "Yes. But, you were referring to you and me. I'm referring to me and Joan."

Irene took a step back. "You chose her." Irene's eyes narrowed and she fixed him with a glare.

Sherlock turned back towards the door and began to descend the stairs. "I'm sorry, Irene."

Irene continued to glare at the back of his head. "I'm sorry too."

Sherlock has almost never been unprepared. He had always been fully equipped for every situation, no matter what it may be. He had always been ready and alert, but when Irene had been standing on his porch the week before, he had been unprepared.

Almost like now, how he was unprepared as stars burst into his vision and he tumbled down the stairs, his head colliding with the ground with a sickening thud.

Sleep became inviting and before Sherlock gave in, he hazily opened his eyes to see his assailant.

Irene was above him, gun in hand, and a twisted, devilish smile on her red lips. The used-to-be sweet girl features were replaced with a revenge-seeking, shadowy, mysterious look.

Finally, it clicked. Sherlock closed his eyes and huffed a soft laugh of acknowledgement. Deep down he knew, but it took seeing it –and Joan's warning- to help him give in. He didn't want to believe it, but how could he deny it with the proof standing above him.

Sherlock felt himself slipping into unconsciousness. "Moriarty…"

…

Sherlock felt someone twisting his arms behind his back and something tight being tied around his wrists. He peeked out and was greeted by a barrel of a gun a foot from his face.

Irene was crouched down in front of him with the evil smile still present. "Good, you're awake. For a second there, love, I thought that I had killed you…We wouldn't want our fun to end too soon." She lowered the gun and rested both her hands on her thighs.

Sherlock moved his fingers and stretched them towards his pockets. He rummaged around, trying to act as though nothing was occurring behind his back.

Irene laughed. "I've emptied your pockets, Sherlock. I wasn't born yesterday." She rolled her eyes and stood up. She walked over to the window beside the door and closed the curtains.

Sherlock looked around through squinted eyes. His head was pounding and black dots were scattered around his vision. He scanned the room and identified the room as his dining room. His arms were restrained behind the railing banisters with two hand-cuffs. One set with a lock and a second set that got tighter as you resisted and moved.

Irene was scanning the streets for 'the mascot' as Sherlock tried wiggling his hands free.

Sherlock was unsuccessful as he tried to release the handcuffs and felt the metal digging into his wrists. "She's not coming back you know." He muttered.

"Who isn't coming back?" Irene asked, turning to face him.

Sherlock sighed. "The person you're looking for. Joan…She isn't coming back. Might as well just kill me now."

Irene crossed her arms. "You love her…don't you?"

Sherlock met her gaze and held it firmly. "More than anything."

Irene grinned. "If I were you, I wouldn't have told me that. You know what Moriarty –I can do." She corrected herself.

"If you hurt her, I swear…" Sherlock tried to sound threatening, but he was slowly losing consciousness again, so it came out weakly.

Irene laughed. "Pathetic." She grabbed her phone from her pocket and dialed one of her minions. "Joan Watson. Find her and bring her to West 94th. I'll be there soon…I have to finish something first." Irene glanced at Sherlock.

Sherlock was breathing heavily, trying to maintain consciousness and prevent himself from passing out. "Don't hurt her…Please…" He pleaded desperately. "Kill me…let…let her live…" He managed to choke out between deep breaths.

Irene strode over to where Sherlock was restrained and raised her gun. "It was enjoyable to know you…I'm sorry we have to part so soon, but, you know, business is business."

Sherlock tensed up and waited for the bullet.

A shot rang out and Sherlock flinched. He didn't feel pain, no blood…He opened his eyes and his mouth fell open.

Irene was clutching her shoulder and cowering in a corner. She was crying and pleading for her life from the other woman holding the gun.

"Not so tough when I'm the one holding the gun, now are we?" Joan hissed.

"Don't hurt me…don't hurt me…Sherlock! Sherlock, please help me!" Irene was begging and bawling her eyes out.

Joan pulled the trigger and the shot went through the wall, inches from Irene's skull.

Irene cried out and tried pushing herself deeper into the corner.

"Joan, she's had enough…" Detective Bell emerged from the kitchen and stepped in front of Irene. He yanked her up by her bad arm (purposely) and clicked the cuffs behind her back. He led her out to the awaiting cruiser and let the ex-partners be alone.

Joan approached Sherlock and crouched down. She threw the gun across the floor and it skidded into the hallway and collided with the wall. Joan lifted Sherlock's head and looked into his eyes. "You know that I should leave you tied up as punishment for what you put me through, right?"

Sherlock smiled sheepishly. "But you won't…right?" He blinked, his eye lids becoming heavy.

Joan became concerned. "Don't close your eyes…" She felt the back of his head and came across a giant, tennis-ball sized bump on the back of his head.

Sherlock flinched as he felt the sting on the back of his head.

Joan moved her hands away and noticed blood on her fingers. "Bell! He needs an ambulance!" She looked back to Sherlock and put her hands on his cheeks. "Sherlock, stay awake. You need to stay awake."

Sherlock smiled weakly. "I'm glad you're here, Watson."

Joan smiled. "You really think I'd let you go that easily?"

Sherlock's smiled began to fade and his head began to droop. His eyes closed and Joan yelped.

"Sherlock…Sherlock! Bell! Where is that ambulance?!" Joan caressed his face and ran her fingers through his hair. "Sherlock, please wake up…" Joan looked behind her and to her disappointment, she did not hear medical personnel, see flashing lights, or hear the comforting sound of an on-coming ambulance siren. Joan panicked and pried his eyelids open.

His eyes were rolled back in his head and his body had gone limp.

Joan slapped him, hard, across the cheek and he gasped in air.

"Sherlock…Stay awake."

"You…you slapped me…" He tried moving his arms, but they were still restrained. "Get these off…"

Joan looked at the cuffs and scowled. "I don't know how…Just stay awake and Bell will get them off for the medical people…" Joan looked behind her and groaned. There was still no sign of an ambulance.

"Joan…look at me." Sherlock demanded weakly.

Joan turned to face him with her features displaying panic, sadness, and concern.

"I want you…I want you to know…that I…that I chose you." He paused and sat up straighter. "You will always be my partner…My only partner. I almost…lost my best friend because I was so blinded by… by Irene's return. I guess…I guess…My brain was not in my head, but in my…in my…well, you know."

Joan laughed nervously and took another look at the open door. She felt relieved as she saw the flashing lights from the ambulance outside.

"Joan…" She turned to look at him again.

"Don't worry, Sherlock. They're here…You're going to be fine."

"Joan…" He said more demanding this time, "Before I go, I need to do something I should've done a long time…ago…" He blinked rapidly. "Come closer…"

Joan did as she was told and was awarded with him leaning in and kissing her.

He leaned into her and used all his energy to show her what she really meant to him.

Joan pulled away as she felt him stop moving his lips. "Sherlock?" She whimpered.

The medical personnel pulled her away and began to cut through the cuffs. They got him free and called in three other medics with a stretcher. They loaded him onto it and whisked him away to the ambulance.

Joan stepped up to one of the medics and spoke. "I want to ride in the back with him."

"Are you a relative?" The medic eyed her suspiciously.

Joan rolled her eyes. "Do I look related to him?" She softened her tone and spoke before he left.

"I'm the love of his life…and he's the love of mine."

THANKS FOR READING! ONE MORE CHAPTER! :P

PLEASE FAVORITE/FOLLOW/REVIEW…

P.S. I GOT THE LINE "I guess…I guess…My brain was not in my head, but in my…in my…well, you know." FROM mmkbrook's REVIEW! :)

AFTER THIS STORY ENDS, I HAVE A NEW ONE COMING OUT…(I NEVER STOP!)

It will be called, "Just Like You."

Deduce whatever you can from that ;)