(A/N) So, the grand conclusion of A Study in Pink in which we learn something rather interesting about Lexi. Virtual cookies who may have been able to guess. I would love to hear your theories after you read the chapter. After this, some domestic Baker Street life and some of my own cases between this case and The Blind Banker. I hope you end up liking those. I'm typing up my second own case right now and then I have two more before The Blind Banker. It's going to be interesting. Thank you to everyone who has read my story! Nearly ten followers in one day. You make me feel so special. Thank you for the lovely review lostfeather. I'm glad you like the story and the evolving relationships. I think you are going to like the next few chapters.

Song that inspired the chapter (Is anyone actually listening to these? Eh, if you aren't I don't care. I'm still going to put it) : I Don't Know If I'll Be Back This Time by Sea Wolf


Chapter Eight- Paging Dr. Watson

"What you do in this world is a matter of no consequence. The question is what can you make people believe you have done."

Arthur Conan Doyle, A Study in Scarlet

John's POV

Upstairs, John had his phone held to his ear as he looked out of the window. He watched as Lexi and Sherlock got into the cab before it pulled away.

"They just got in a cab," John said as he turned to Lestrade "Its Sherlock and Lexi. They both just drove off in a cab," He continued. Donovan who was standing next to Lestrade huffed in irritation.

"I told you, they do that," She told John before she turned to Lestrade. "He bloody left again," She told him before she walked back to the kitchen, talking loudly as she went. "We're wasting our time!"

"I'm calling the phone. It's ringing out," John told Lestrade as he frowned.

In the cab, the pink phone started ringing and Sherlock and Lexi watched Jeff as he briefly looked down at it, the phone situated in the well beside his seat. It continued to ring as back in the flat, Lestrade watched John as he continued to hold his phone to his ear.

"If it's ringing, it's not here," Lestrade told him as he looked round the flat.

John lowered his phone and reached for Sherlock's laptop. "I'll try the search again,' John told Lestrade as Donovan came back to confront Lestrade.

"Does it matter? Does any of it? You know, he's just a lunatic, and he'll always let you down, and you're wasting your time. All our time. And you saw how "Lexi" acted. She's unhinged. You heard what she said on the phone. I keep telling you that she's going to snap one of these days, but you never listen. Now her and him are together," Donovan said tetchily. Lestrade stared at her for a long moment as she held his gaze before he sighed loudly.

"Okay, everybody. Done 'ere," Lestrade called to everyone who started to pack up their stuff. John looked up from the computer in surprised. Sherlock and Lexi mysteriously leave in a cab and no one else cared. John was starting to see why Sherlock and Lexi both seemed to hate Donovan and Anderson. John wasn't sure exactly what was in the book in Lexi's bag, but judging from her near murderous reaction it was really important to her. As for Donovan she constantly bad mouthed the two of them. John felt uncomfortable every time she mentioned Lexi. She called her unhinged, and kept saying something about her snapping one of these days. From what John could see Lexi was a really sweet girl, she was odd yeah, but everyone had their quirks. She had quite a temper, but John chalked that up to her being Irish and a woman to boot. As for Sherlock while he seemed like a right arse, there was something about him that intrigued John Watson, though he couldn't quite place it. They were an odd pair, but for the first time in months… he actually was able to forget the battlefield. Running with Sherlock and Lexi was a battle all on its own.


Lexi's POV

"How did you find us?" Sherlock asked the cabbie as I slid my mobile into the inner pocket of my coat. Sherlock was controlling the conversation and if the look he flashed me was any indication, he was trying to pull the cabbie's attention away from me. I wondered just what Mycroft told Sherlock on the phone.

"Oh, I recognized yer, soon as I saw you chasing my cab. Sherlock 'olmes! I was warned about you. I've been on your website, too. Brilliant stuff! Loved it! Was warned about you too Ms. Mac'enna. Very brilliant aren't yer," The cabbie complimented me. One look at Sherlock was enough to tell me that he was seeing the same thing I was. Every time the cabbie spoke, he kept bringing things back around to me. It was then that I realized that I knew the cabbie. He was one of the usual cabbies that drove me. He was a father… so why or when did he become a serial killer? I shuddered a little bit. It was unnerving to think that I had been driven nearly every day by a serial killer.

"Who warned you about us?" Sherlock asked the cabbie as I stared back at the man. I tried to scan him over. There was something I missed. I had never really looked, but now I did. Ah I had been so stupid, terminal illness. That was why he started killing, but why? Why start now?

"Just someone out there who's noticed you. Took quite an interest in you Ms. Mac'enna, noticed yer," The cabbie said and I could see his smile in the review mirror.

"Who?" I asked the cabbie as I leaned forward and looked closely at the side of Jeff's neck. I didn't want him to think he made me uneasy. I noticed the photograph of the young boy and girl that he had attached to the dashboard. That was right he had young children. Mother wasn't in the picture either.

"Who would notice me?" Sherlock asked the cabbie as he copied my movements.

"You're too modest, Mr. 'olmes," Jeff told him as he met his eyes briefly in the rear view mirror.

"I'm really not," Sherlock told him and I snorted. One thing I had come to learn through my association with Mycroft was that a Holmes was never modest.

"You've got yourselves a fan," Jeff told us and Sherlock and I both sat back in our seats at the same time.

"Tell me more,' Sherlock ordered him nonchalantly.

"That's all you're gonna know..." Jeff said before pausing dramatically for a moment. "...in this lifetime," He finished quietly. I snorted and rolled my eyes. Men, they had to be so dramatic. Mycroft could make it seem like the world was ending if he had to do leg work and Sherlock, well Sherlock just seemed to be dramatic about a lot of things. I looked out the window of the cab and stared out at the streets of London that were rushing by. I pulled my phone out and turned it on texting Mycroft two words: Vatican Cameos.


John's POV

Back at the flat, the other police officers left, but Lestrade lingered as he picked up his coat and turned to John. "Why did they do that? Why did they have to leave?" Lestrade asked John as if he knew the answer.

"You know them better than I do," John told him with a shrug. He had really only known them for what was shaping up to be the most ridiculous day of his life. Between the crime scene, the cab chase throughout London, and a drugs bust at the flat he was considering living in, John was ready to just settle down with a nice hot cuppa. Finding out that Lexi and Sherlock were both former addicts was a bit surprising given the way they acted and their intelligence. Lexi's admission was far more surprising than Sherlock's. John wondered what she meant about not having to know, like she did actually know. John couldn't imagine Lexi coming that close to death, but she did work as a detective before. She must have had some dangerous cases.

"I've known him for five years, Lexi for seven and no, I don't," Lestrade told John with a shake of his head. (A/N To clear up any confusion, Sherlock worked a year for Lestrade before Lestrade kicked him out to get clean. Lexi then worked for Lestrade for the three years Sherlock was battling his addiction, the years Sherlock really didn't see anyone. Then, Lexi left after those three years to battle her own addictions and Sherlock came back and has been working cases again for Lestrade the last four years. While Lexi was out she still kept in contact with Lestrade. So, they always seemed to miss each other. Highly convenient right?)

"So why do you put up with them?" John questioned him mildly confused.

"Because I'm desperate, that's why," Lestrade answered him as he walked to the door. He turned back and looked at John. "And because Sherlock Holmes is a great man. And I think one day, if we're very, very lucky, he might even be a good one. As for Lexi, she's a great woman. She's certainly the most interesting woman you will ever meet, but quite possibly, she can be the greatest woman you will ever meet. Word of advice, Lexi's past is worse than Sherlock's. She changes her mood faster than Sherlock changes his mind. Become her enemy and you'll wish you hadn't, become her friend and she'll never let you down. Just…be patient with her. Sherlock is predictable, but Lexi never is. She has a lot of heart and she seems mental at times, but she means well," Lestrade told John before he turned and left.

John stared at the door for a few minutes. Lexi MacKenna, the way everyone made her sound it was like she was this mystery and quite possibly she was. What had he gotten himself into? John sighed as he turned around and limped over to the window. He looked down at his hand for a second and saw the tremor was back. How was it that two of the strangest people in the world could come into his life like a whirlwind and change everything in his life in just a few hours? There was no question about it, he was taking the room. John looked out of the window and out at the dark, quiet streets of London. Now, only to figure out where Sherlock and Lexi had run off to.


Lexi's POV

The cab drove on for a few more blocks and the three of us sat in silence before the cabbie finally pulled to a stop at the front of two identical buildings side by side. Jeff turned off the engine and got out before coming to the passenger door and opening it. He looked in at Sherlock and me expectantly.

"Where are we?" Sherlock asked him as he stared up at him from his seat.

"You two know every street in London. You know exactly where we are," Jeff answered him as his eyes flashed towards me.

"This is the Roland-Kerr Further Education College. Why here of all places?" I asked the cabbie who smiled back at my answer smugly.

"It's open; cleaners are in. One thing about being a cabbie, you always know a nice quiet spot for a murder. I'm surprised more of us don't branch out," Jeff said and I snorted. It would be like a gang, a gang of killer cabbies. Sometimes the rates they charged felt like murder.

"Yes, and as a detective I know how to murder people in multiple ways. I'm not a serial killer though," I quipped back with a roll of my eyes. The cabbie chuckled at me and I sighed heavily. "So what, you just walk your victims in? How does that work? 'Cos I really don't feel like walking anywhere with you," I continued with a bored look on my face.

"Thought you might say that," Jeff told me as he raised a pistol and pointed it at Sherlock. Sherlock rolled his eyes and turned his head away to look at me.

"Oh, dull,' He said sounding as bored as I was.

"Hmm very original. However, you do realize that I've only just met Sherlock so I have no emotional attachment to him. Pointing a gun at him will not entice me to go anywhere. You could shoot him and it still wouldn't faze me," I drawled out as I started to casually braid my hair out of the way.

"We both know differently though don't we," Jeff said as he pointed the gun at me. "Mr. 'olmes and you are too much alike. He interests you," He continued as he turned the gun back to Sherlock. I raised an eyebrow at him as I threw my braided hair over my shoulder.

"Mmmm," I hummed in a way that made it sound like I was bored rather than agreeing. I tried to make him think he couldn't use us against each other. I wasn't sure if Sherlock would care or not if I got shot, but I would if he did. Unfortunately the cabbie was right, I cared about Sherlock because he interested me. "So what happens now, because this is getting rather boring?" I asked the cabbie with feigned nonchalance. I knew that Mycroft had probably received my text by now. That meant that he was probably searching for where I was and trying to find what kind of situation I was in. We set up our duress code after a slight mishap. If either of us were in danger we would send each other a text. I had only ever received one from Mycroft, and he wasn't even in danger. He just wanted to get out of a meeting with the Belgian Ambassador. I had only ever sent Mycroft a total of two, now three distress texts.

"Don't worry. It gets better," Jeff assured me and I waved my hand that gestured for him to carry on.

"You can't make people take their own lives at gunpoint," Sherlock pointed out sounding bored. I knew that he was only feigning nonchalance. He realized the seriousness of the situation we were in too.

"I don't. It's much better than that," Jeff told us as he lowered the gun. "Don't need this with you two, 'cos you'll follow me," Jeff continued before he confidently walked away. As soon as he was out of ear shot Sherlock turned to me.

"Go to the end of the road and call Mycroft, he'll come and collect you," Sherlock order me. I snorted at him and raised an eyebrow.

"Not going to happen sweetie," I said before I opened my door and slid out of the cab. "You're not the only one working this case Lock," I told him before I closed the door and walked around the front of the cab. I heard Sherlock make sound behind me before I heard his door slam shut and he fell into step beside me. (A/N Yes, she used an endearment, not the first time it will happen either. And, Sherlock has his nickname! Mycroft got his after two years, Sherlock's after not even two days. What does this tell you?)

I wanted to know just what it was that Jeff thought he could say to me that would get me to kill myself. My past was haunted by a lot of different things. There was my childhood, my addiction, my time working on cases. There was a lot to choose from. One thing was certain though, I was invested. The only thing I could thank Jeff for was that it was this case that made me realize that I missed what I used to do before.


John's POV

Back at 221B, John found himself alone in the flat. He contemplated just going home since it was late and he didn't think Lexi or Sherlock would be coming back anytime soon. He walked towards the living room door, but he paused and looked down, clenching his right hand realizing that he didn't have his walking cane. He looked around the flat and saw the cane lying on top of a box of papers next to the dining table and went over to collect it. Behind him Sherlock's notebook was still on Mephone's website and the clock was spinning on the screen as the site searched for Jennifer Wilson's phone. John picked up the cane and headed for the door again just as the computer beeped triumphantly and a map appeared on the screen and started to zoom in on the location of the phone. John turned back as the computer beeped repeatedly. He hesitated only for a second before he went back to the table and propped his cane against it. It couldn't hurt to at least see where it was. He picked up the notebook and looked at the screen.

The map said the phone was at the Roland-Kerr Further Education College. It had moved nearly clear across the city. How was that even possible? John felt ice in his veins as he finally put the evidence together. The phone was in the flat just before Lexi and Sherlock got into a cab and now it was clear across London. Shit. John turned taking the notebook with him as he hurried out of the door and down the stairs taking them two at a time. He didn't care what happened, he only cared that Lexi and Sherlock were now with the murder. He rushed out of the flat and hailed a cab once again forgetting to take his cane in his haste.


Lexi's POV

Jeff opened the door of a room and stood aside so that Sherlock and I could go in. Sherlock looked at him closely but stepped inside the room ahead of me without a word. I raised an eyebrow at Jeff which made him chuckle before I strode past him. He released the door and let it swing closed as he walked over to some switches on the wall and turned on the lights. We were in a large classroom which had long fixed wooden benches and plastic chairs. It reminded me of my Uni days. Of course I studied at the University of Edinburgh rather than here in London. Sherlock walked deeper into the room, looking around as I stood there choosing to scan the room with my eyes instead.

"Well, what do you think?" Jeff asked us. Sherlock raised his hands and shrugged as if to ask, 'What do I think about what?' "It's up to you. You're the ones who are gonna die 'ere," Jeff continued as Sherlock turned his back to him.

"No, I'm not," Sherlock announced confidently.

"I'm interested in what you think you could say to make me want to kill myself," I commented with a sniff which made Jeff the killer cabbie smirk at me.

"That's what they all say," He told me as he gestured to one of the benches. "Shall we talk?" He asked us. Without waiting for a reply he pulled out one of the chairs and sat down. Sherlock took a chair from the bench in front, flipped it around and sat down opposite him. He sighed dramatically. Both men turned to me questioningly and I shrugged before pulling out a chair beside Sherlock. I crossed my arms as I sat down before I put my boot clad feet up on the table in front of us.

"Bit risky, wasn't it? Took us away under the eye of about half a dozen policemen. They're not that stupid. And Mrs Hudson will remember you," Sherlock began after he gave a look that questioned my sitting posture.

"You call that a risk? Nah," Jeff told him as he reached into the left pocket of his cardigan. "This is a risk," He continued as he took out two small glass bottles with a screw top on them and put them onto the table in front of him. There was a single large capsule inside the both of them. Sherlock looked at them but didn't react in anyway. I snorted at his definition of a risk. "Ooh, I like this bit. 'Cause you don't get it yet, do yer? But you're about to. I just have to do this," Jeff said with a laugh as he reached into his right pocket, taking out two identical bottles containing identical capsules. He put them both down onto the table beside the first two bottles. "You weren't expecting that, were yer?" Jeff asked us as he leaned forward. "Ooh, you're going to love this."

"Love what?" Sherlock questioned him as I raised an eyebrow as I realized how the game went.

"Sherlock 'olmes. Look at you! 'Ere in the flesh. That website of yours, your fan told me about it," Jeff told him as he leaned back in his chair again.

"My fan?" Sherlock asked him curiously. I was interested to see who had gone to great lengths to get Sherlock's and now my attention. I didn't take cases any more, I was for all extensive purposes, currently, off the grid.

"You are brilliant. You are. A proper genius. "The Science of Deduction." Now that is proper thinking. Between you and me sitting 'ere, why can't people think?" He asked us as he looked down angrily. "Don't it make you mad? Why can't people just think?" He asked us as he looked up again and diverted his attention to me. I looked back at him for a long moment before Sherlock interrupted us.

"Oh, I see. So you're a proper genius too," Sherlock said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Don't look it, do I? Funny little man drivin' a cab. But you'll know better in a minute. Chances are it'll be the last thing you two ever know," He said as Sherlock held his gaze for a second or two before he looked down to the table.

"Okay, four bottles. Explain," Sherlock ordered him as I removed my feet from the table and sat up straight.

"There's two good bottles and two bad bottles. You two take the pill from the good bottle, you live; take the pill from the bad bottle, you die," Jeff explained to us. I nodded before sighing.

"The four bottles are of course identical so that there is no way we could deduce which is the good and which is the bad. A bit boring, but nice touch," I said as I eyed the bottles. Jeff chuckled at me.

"He said you were a funny one. You interest him. Shame about your accident, he wasn't quite happy about that," Jeff said and I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Well, sorry to disappoint," I told him before I brought the subject back around to the bottles rather than on me. "You know which is which, but we don't," I clarified.

"Wouldn't be a game if you knew. You're the ones who choose," Jeff told us as he continued to smirk at me.

"Why should I? I've got nothing to go on. What's in it for me?" Sherlock asked him as I folded my hands steepling my index fingers under my nose as if I was making a shushing gesture with both hands. We were about to play a deadly game. Of course I could just walk away and leave Sherlock to his own devices. Part of me wanted to play the game though.

"I 'aven't told you the best bit yet. Whatever bottle you two choose, I take the pill from the other ones…and then, together, we take our medicine," Jeff told us. Sherlock started to grin, seemingly interested now. "I won't cheat. It's your choice. I'll take whatever pill you two don't," Jeff assured us. Sherlock looked down at the bottles, concentrating properly now. "Didn't expect that, did you, Mr. 'olmes? But you did, ain't that right Ms. Mac'enna?"

"Naturally, once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth," I said cryptically as a response quoting Sherlock's third bullet point on his website in my own words. Jeff smirked as he realized what I had done.

"This is what you did to the rest of them, you gave them a choice," Sherlock stated suddenly. Jeff and I turned to look at Sherlock. I looked down at the pocket that held my phone from a brief second before looking up quickly again so as not to give things away. Mycroft was slow which meant that he didn't know where I was and was having trouble finding me. My phone didn't have GPS in it, a requirement I had insisted on when Mycroft gave me the phone. I had told him he already had enough ways to track me without it. Now that I was working cases again, having a GPS in my phone seemed like a good idea. I would ask Mycroft about it later.

"And now I'm givin' you two one," Jeff told us as he watched the both of us intently. "You two take your time. Get yourselves together," Jeff told us as he licked his lips in anticipation. "I want your best game."

"It's not a game. It's chance," Sherlock said sarcastically. Oh yes, lets goad the killer cabbie.

"I've played four times. I'm alive. It's not chance, Mr. 'olmes, its chess. It's a game of chess, with one move, and one survivor. And this ... this ... is the move," Jeff said as he slid a bottle across the table towards Sherlock and I. He licked his top lip as he pulled his hand back leaving the bottles in front of us. "Did I just give you the good bottle or the bad bottle? You can choose either one. One of you might live and one of you might die. Be interesting to see which one of you gets it right," Jeff said with a little smirk. I looked at the bottles in front of us, Mycroft better get here soon.


John's POV

John sat in the back of a taxi with the computer notebook open on his lap. He had been trying to get a hold of Lestrade for the last few minutes, but he kept getting redirected to other people.

"No, Detective Inspector Lestrade. I need to speak to him. It's important. It's an emergency!" John angrily said into the phone. No one seemed to want to put him through to Lestrade. He was getting absolutely nowhere. He still had his gun on him though.

"Er, left here, please. Left here," John directed the cabbie as he checked the map on the netbook. If the police didn't want to help than he would just have to do this alone. John only hoped he wasn't too late to help them.


Lexi's POV

"You ready yet, Mr. 'olmes? Ms. Mac'enna? Ready to play?" Jeff asked us growing a little impatient.

"Play what? It's a fifty-fifty chance," Sherlock quipped. I knew that while he was curious, this wasn't generally his thing. He preferred logic over chance.

"You're not playin' the numbers, you're playin' me. Did I just give you the good pill or the bad pill? Is it a bluff? Or a double-bluff? Or a triple-bluff?" Jeff asked us as I picked up one of the bottles and looked at it. Sherlock watched me curiously.

"You know, no matter how you say it, it's still just chance," I told Jeff as I looked over the top of the bottle.

"Four people in a row? It's not just chance," Jeff scoffed as I continued to study the bottle.

"Luck," Sherlock told him.

"It's genius. I know 'ow people think," Jeff insisted. I looked over the bottle gain and watched as Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I know 'ow people think I think. I can see it all, like a map inside my 'ead." Sherlock looked exasperated while I cocked me head to the side thoughtfully. "Everyone's so stupid…even you," Jeff continued before he looked at me. "Not you though, he says you are smarter than you let on. Says you are unpredictable." Sherlock's gaze sharpened. "Or maybe God just loves me," Jeff finished as Sherlock straightened up and leaned forwards, folding his hands in front of him on the table.

"Either way, you're wasted as a cabbie," He said with a small smirk on his face. Both men regarded each other as I looked down at the bottle still in my hands. We couldn't stall forever, sooner or later we would have to make a choice.

Four bottles all identical, containing identical capsules. He claimed two were good while two were bad. 'Never bet against a Sicilian when death is on the line.' Four times he played the game and all four times he had survived. Either he was really lucky or he found another way to survive. Oh clever…he built up an immunity to the poison. It was easy enough to do. It was like one of my experiments when I had taken small doses of a paralytic drug to build up an immunity to the effects of it. It came in handy once during a case. So, he could take the pill and survive, but everyone else would die. This was going to get really interesting.


John's POV

John got out of the cab in front of the Roland-Kerr College. He paid the cabbie before quickly slipping out of the cab with Sherlock's laptop in hand. As the taxi pulled away, John tucked the notebook into his jacket and looked at the two identical buildings in front of him. The map wasn't specific enough to tell him which building the phone was in. He had to make a choice. John took a deep breath before he made his choice and rushed towards the buildings. He only hoped that he had made the right choice.


Lexi's POV

I watched as Sherlock lifted his folded hands in front of his mouth and gazed at Jeff intently. "So, you risked your life four times just to kill strangers. Why?" Sherlock asked him.

"Yeah, I was wondering where the whole killer cabbie thing came in 'cos you've driven me before," I said as I put the bottle back down in front of me. It didn't matter which one I chose, they were all the same and they all could kill me.

Jeff nodded down to the bottles ignoring my comment. Sherlock looked surprised by this bit of information. "Time to play," He told us.

Sherlock unfolded his fingers and adopted the prayer position in front of his mouth. "Oh, I am playing. This is my turn. There's shaving foam behind your left ear. Nobody's pointed it out to you. "Traces of where it's happened before, so obviously you live on your own; there's no-one to tell you," Sherlock continued as I watched Jeff trying not to fidget under Sherlock's gaze.

"I remember, you told me you had two children. Your wife left you and you don't get to see your children often, but you miss them a lot more than you let on," I said as I scrunched up my face in thought. Jeff's gaze slid away from me and for the first time I saw a hint of pain in his eyes.

"Estranged father. She took the kids, but you still love them and it still hurts,' Sherlock said as he extended his index fingers. "Ah, but there's more," Sherlock continued as Jeff lifted his head and gazed back to Sherlock as he pointed his index fingers towards them. "Your clothes, recently laundered but everything you're wearing's at least ... three years old? Keeping up appearances but not planning ahead. And here you are on a kamikaze murder spree. What's that about?" Sherlock asked him. Jeff had gotten control of himself again and his expression gave away nothing as he gazed back at Sherlock.

"Three years ago that's when they told you isn't it?" I asked him softly suddenly realizing what would make a man who didn't seem the type suddenly go on a killing spree.

"Told me what?" Jeff asked me flatly.

"That you're a dead man walking," Sherlock answered him cutting me off. I looked at Sherlock angrily. Yes, he was a murderer, but I pitied him as much as a sociopath could. He was a father and he loved his children. He was more than my father ever was.

"So are you," Jeff quipped back.

"You don't have long, though. Am I right?" Sherlock asked him. Jeff smiled before he sighed.

"Aneurism," He told us as he raised his right hand and tapped the side of his head. "Right in 'ere," Jeff continued as Sherlock smiled in satisfaction at having made the right deduction. I grimaced, sometimes it wasn't fun to be right. "Any breath could be my last."

"And because you're dying, you've just murdered four people," Sherlock stated as he frowned again.

"I've outlived four people. That's the most fun you can 'ave on an aneurism," Jeff told him. I shook my head. This wasn't just about fun or about outliving people. He cared about his children, this had something to do with them.

"No, nice try though. You see I would have believed you if I hadn't taken your cab before. I remember everything. You couldn't stop talking about your children. I remember because I thought it was sweet to see a father so dedicated to his children,' I said as I leaned forward and studied the man who turned his full attention to me. "You didn't just kill four people because you're bitter. Bitterness is a paralytic. Love is a much more vicious motivator. This is about your children. They're the only thing that truly matters to you. Your life, that's hardly worth anything, but your children, you'd do anything for them. You'd even kill four people for them," I finished as I watched him closely for his reaction.

Jeff looked away and sighed. "Ohh," He said before he looked back at me. "You are good, ain't you? He said you were. You're right though. When I die, they won't get much, my kids. Not a lot of money in driving cabs," Jeff told me and I nodded slowly. I thought as much.

"Or serial killing," Sherlock added after a silent second.

"You'd be surprised."

"Surprise me," Sherlock shot back. Jeff leaned forward grinning.

"I 'ave a sponsor," He told us triumphantly.

"You have a what?" Sherlock asked him in disbelief.

"For every life I take, money goes to my kids. The more I kill, the better off they'll be. You see? It's nicer than you think," Jeff told us with another grin.

"Who'd sponsor a serial killer?" Sherlock asked him with a frown. Yes, who exactly. More than likely someone who you never wanted to meet.

"Who'd be a fan of Sherlock 'olmes?" Jeff replied instantly. Both men stared at each other for a moment. The testosterone in the room was a little overwhelming. Men liked to challenge each other while women had to keep the level head in situations like this. "You're not the only one to enjoy a good murder. There's others out there just like you, except you're just a man ... and they're so much more than that."

The side of Sherlock's nose twitched in distaste. "What d'you mean, more than a man? An organization? What?"

"There's a name no-one says, an' I'm not gonna say it either," Jeff said before I interrupted him with a well-timed comment.

"Voldemort?" I asked him hopefully, if anything just to stall a little longer. Sherlock and Jeff both turned to me, Sherlock to glare and Jeff to look at me with amusement. He chuckled as I shrugged back at Sherlock. What, I was buying us more time by interrupting.

"He said you was funny like that, always making jokes. Told me I would have to keep a close watch on ya. Now, enough chatter." Jeff told us as he nodded down to the bottles. "Time to choose." Sherlock looked down to the bottles, finally breaking eye contact with me, his eyes moving from one to the other. I wouldn't be able to tell him that they were all poison without alerting Jeff that I had figured it out. This was a game we couldn't win. I held onto my composure as I looked between Sherlock and Jeff. This wasn't the first time I had played the deadly game.


John's POV

Elsewhere in the college, John was madly running through the corridors in a desperate attempt to find Sherlock and Lexi before he was too late. There was just something about the pair of them. Sherlock was arrogant and a right arse and Lexi was quirky and fun loving. John had smiled when he watched her run ahead of them. She looked so happy as if she had never known such freedom.

"Sherlock? Lexi?" John called out as he ran from door to door, trying them and peering through windows.

"Sherlock! Lexi!" He called out again a little more urgently. John felt numb as he kept on searching for them. What if they were already dead? No, they were here somewhere and he would find them. He had to find them.


Lexi's POV

"What if I don't choose either? I could just walk out of here," Sherlock stated. Jeff sighed in a combination of exasperation and disappointment as he lifted up the pistol and pointed it at Sherlock.

"Mmmm, I was thinking the same thing. Cause… not that this is not extremely interesting, but I'm not really sold on the whole idea. Besides, what girl has the time to die? I think I'm due to wash my hair and call my friends to chat about boys," I said as I put my feet up on the desk again and leaned back in my chair. I had to buy us as much time as I could until Mycroft could get here. By now he should have found where I was and sent someone.

"You can take your fifty-fifty chance, or I can shoot you in the head," Jeff told me as he rounded to gun on me. "Funnily enough, no-one's ever gone for that option."

"And here I was thinking we were just started getting better acquainted," I said as I sighed dramatically. Sherlock was watching me curiously as he tried to figure out where I was going with this. "You know what? I'll have the gun, please," I said as I uncrossed my legs and sat up straight again.

"Are you sure?" Jeff asked me sounding surprised by my choice.

"Definitely, I'm not into the whole poison thing. Just say no to drugs, you know?" I said and I saw Sherlock's mouth twitch up into a smirk from the corner of my eyes. "Yeah laugh it up Holmes," I shot at him before turning back to Jeff, flashing him a falsely cheerful grin. "The gun," I told him with a nod.

"You don't wanna phone a friend?" Jeff asked me. I smiled back at him confidently before making a gesture with my hand for him to go ahead.

"The gun. Could we hurry this up a bit? 'Cos the suspense is killing me more than you seem to be." Jeff's mouth tightened, and slowly he squeezed the trigger. A small flame bursts out of the end of the muzzle. I snorted before grinning slightly smugly. "I know a real gun when I see one," I told Jeff with a shake of my head. "Really it was obvious." Jeff calmly lifted the pistol/cigarette lighter and released the trigger. The flame went out

"None of the others realized it," Jeff said sounding slightly impressed.

"Mmm, but if you've learnt anything from this it's that Sherlock and I aren't like the others," I pointed out to Jeff. Normal people saw a gun and immediately they would do whatever you told them too. They wouldn't even look at the gun closely enough to see that it looked wrong. They would rather take a fifty fifty chance at living than a guaranteed death sentence.

"Clearly," Sherlock said with a little smirk. Well, this has been very interesting. I look forward to the court case," Sherlock continued as we both stood up and walked towards the door. Jeff put the gun onto the desk and calmly turned in his seat.

"Just before you go, did you figure it out...," Jeff called to us just as we reached the door. Sherlock and I stopped and half-turned back towards him. "...which one's the good bottle?"

"Of course. Child's play," Sherlock bragged as Jeff's gaze slid to me awaiting my answer.

"I figured it out as you two were talking," I admitted truthfully. I knew that he would think that I had believed his whole lie about there being a good bottle and a bad one. He was too sure of himself to think that someone would see right through him.

"Well, which one, then?" Jeff asked us as Sherlock opened the door a little. He showed no sign of leaving the room as I turned back to Jeff. "Which one would you 'ave picked, just so I know whether I could have beaten you?" Jeff challenged us. Sherlock closed the door again. "Come on. Play the game," Jeff ordered us as he chuckled.

Slowly Sherlock walked back towards him. When he got to the table, he reached out and swept up the bottle nearest to Jeff, then walked past him. I looked back at Jeff before walking forward and picking up the bottle that had been in front of me. Jeff looked down at the two remaining bottles with interest but his voice gave nothing away as he spoke.

"Oh. Interesting," He said as he picked up the other bottles as Sherlock looked down at the bottle in his own hand. There was not stopping this now.


John's POV

Out in the corridors, John was still running along and searching frantically for Lexi and Sherlock. He kept hoping that he would open a door and find the red headed Irish girl and the dark haired detective. With every door that led to an empty room he felt his stomach drop out.


Lexi's POV

Jeff opened his bottles and tipped the capsules out into his hand. He held them up and looked at them closely as he pinched the two pills between his fingers. Sherlock examined his own bottle closely. I did even both taking a second look at the pill that was going to end of killing me. They said drugs lead you to an early grave, guess I got to find that out. I could still walk away though. I could leave Sherlock behind. A little voice in my head told me I should do that, that it would be what Mycroft wanted me to do since I couldn't convince Sherlock to stop being an idiot, but the larger part of me couldn't walk away from him. If he was going to do this, I would be right here with him. For some reason, I just couldn't walk away from him. It was like I had been meant to meet him, meant to meet John. The consulting detective and the army doctor, two men who were nothing alike who had changed my life for the better in just the short time I had known them. I couldn't remember feeling as happy as I did now in a long time, even if I was facing imminent death. Sherlock reminded me how it felt to be solving cases, the thrill of making that first deduction, the freedom of just being myself. John on the other hand showed me the understanding and the kindness I had started to think people no longer had. It give me hope that not everyone would think I was the freak. I was so alone before and I honestly owed them so much. They had, somehow, saved me from myself and with no more than just being who they were. So no, I couldn't just leave Sherlock. We were in this together until the very end of the case.

"So what d'you think?" Jeff asked us as he looked up at us. "Shall we? Really, what do you think?" He asked us as he stood up and face the both of us. "Can you beat me?"

"Are you clever enough to bet your life?" Jeff asked us. I looked down at me bottle.

Of course he would try and appeal to our ego. I didn't need to prove anything though. I never had, which is why I silently made my deductions and kept what I found to myself for the most part. This was a dangerous game and only one person would walk away from it and that person would certainly not be Sherlock or I. Wouldn't be the first time I risked my life on a case. Strange how this would be the one that ended things.


John's POV

John burst through a door and stared ahead of him as he finally saw who he was looking for. His eyes fill with horror as he took in the scene in front of him. John watched as Sherlock lifted his gaze from the bottle he was holding.

"SHERLOCK! LEXI!" John cried out in horror as he stood watching the scene unfolding in the class room across the way through the window. He didn't have time to get to them. He pulled out his gun and waited. They wouldn't be stupid enough to take the pill… would they?


Lexi's POV

"I bet you get bored, don't you? I know you do. A man like you and a woman of your intellect…" Jeff said as he held his own pill. Sherlock and I unscrewed the lids of our bottles in unison. "... so clever. But what's the point of being clever if you can't prove it?" Jeff continued as Sherlock and I took out the capsules and held them between our thumbs and index fingers. Sherlock raised his to the light to examine it more closely. "Still the addicts," Jeff carried on as Sherlock lowered his pill and held it at eye level, gazing at it. "But this ... this is what you're really addicted to, innit?" Jeff asked us as Sherlock continued to stare at his pill. I looked down at it remembering the last time I had come so close to death. "You'd do anything ... anything at all..." Jeff said as I laughed to myself. I once thought the needle would be my end, but now it was a tiny little capsule. "...to stop being bored," Jeff finished as Sherlock and I slowly began to move the pills closer to our mouths. Jeff matched our movements with his own pill. "You're not bored now, are you?" Jeff asked us as the three of us raised our pills to our lips. "Innit good?" Jeff asked us before a gunshot suddenly rang out through the room.

In my surprise I dropped my pill as I let out a strangled cry. The bullet impacted Jeff's chest close to his heart before going through his body and smashing into the door behind him. He fell to the floor as Sherlock dropped his own pill in surprise. In the opposite building, John had his pistol still raised and aimed out of the window. He lowered the gun to his side. Sherlock turned and slid over the desk behind him and hurried to the window, bending down to stare through the bullet hole in the glass. I hurried over to his side and looked across to the other building. The window of the opposite room was open but there is nobody in sight. Sherlock and I straightened up before we heard Jeff breathing heavily and coughing. We turned back in unison, looking around the room and seeing two of the pills lying on the desk as Jeff convulsed on the floor and gasped and coughed in pain. Sherlock strode away from me and snatched up on of the pills, kneeling down and brandishing it at Jeff, who had a large pool of blood underneath him and was staring up at him in shock.

"Was I right?" Sherlock demanded him. Jeff turned his head away in disbelief. "I was, wasn't I? Did I get it right?" Sherlock demanded more forcefully. Jeff didn't reply and Sherlock angrily hurled the pill across the room and stood up. "Okay, tell me this, your sponsor. Who was it? The one who told you about me…my 'fan'. I want a name."

"No," Jeff told him weakly as I walked forward and stood beside Sherlock looking down at the man. A shot over that distance and window of opportunity had to mean that the shooter was skilled. Not one of Mycroft's men though, this was someone different.

"You're dying, but there's still time to hurt you. Give me a name,' Sherlock order him again. Jeff shook his head. Grimacing angrily, Sherlock lifted his foot and put it on Jeff's shoulder. Jeff gasped out in pain. I winced. "A name," Sherlock ordered as Jeff cried out in pain. "Now." Still Jeff refused to answer him and only whined in pain. Sherlock's face looked intent and manic as he leaned his weight onto his foot causing Jeff to whimper.

"The NAME!" Sherlock shouted at him furiously.

"MORIARTY!" Jeff cried out in agony before his eyes closed and his head rolled to the side. Sherlock stepped back turning his head away and looking reflective. After a few seconds, he silently mouthed the word 'Moriarty' to himself.

"Have you heard the name before?" Sherlock asked me suddenly. I blinked back at him in surprise, still a little shocked about everything that had just happened. It was completely unexpected, especially since I knew that wasn't one of Mycroft's men.

"No," I answered him slowly as I got a handle on myself again. I didn't know the name, at least I couldn't place it to a face, but it did sound familiar "But, I can tell you, whoever they are, they're Irish. I think I've heard the name before too, but I'm not sure where," I told him before the sound of sirens cut us off. The sound grew louder until the room reflected the blue and red lights of police cars. "Hmm Mycroft is getting slow," I remarked as we heard the door burst open from somewhere in the college.

"You told him where we were?" Sherlock asked me sounding mildly annoyed.

"Not exactly, I texted him our code word. He knew to find me," I told Sherlock as the door suddenly burst open and Lestrade, Donovan, and a few other officers came into the room all guns blazing. Lestrade looked between the body on the ground and us before he lowered his gun.

"Bloody hell what happened?" Lestrade asked us as he ordered everyone to stand down.

Sherlock explained everything that had happened from us leaving the flat to the cabbie getting shot by a mysterious sniper. He brushed over a few of the finer details which I knew Lestrade would notice. He seemed to be being lenient for the most part. We were forced to get checked out in an ambulance. Sherlock and I sat side by side as EMTs forcibly looked us over. I complied, but complained through the entire process. They seemed to think we would suddenly go into shock so they draped hideous orange blankets over our shoulders. No matter how many times we shrugged them off, they kept putting them back. Lestrade walked over to us just as the paramedic put the blanket back around my shoulders for the third time. Sherlock gestured to our blankets as he looked at Lestrade.

"Why have we got these blankets? They keep putting these blankets on us," Sherlock whined as I threw the blanket off of me for the fourth time.

"Yeah, it's for shock," Lestrade told us. I sighed loudly and rolled my eyes at Greg.

"We're not in shock. We're perfectly fine," I told Lestrade as I threw my hands in the air in exasperation.

"Yeah, but some of the guys wanna take photographs," Lestrade told me as he grinned. Sherlock and I looked at each other despairingly before rolling our eyes at Lestrade in unison. I saw Lestrade cringe when he noticed us do this. Get used to it Greg, I thought as I smiled at the man cheekily.

"So, the shooter. No sign?" Sherlock asked him changing the subject.

"Cleared off before we got 'ere. But a guy like that would have had enemies, I suppose. One of them could have been following him but ...," Greg said with a shrug. "...got nothing to go on."

Sherlock looked at him pointedly as I snorted and raised my eyebrow gesturing between Sherlock and myself. "Seriously Greg? You have nothing to go on. Do you forget you are in the presence of greatness?" I asked him with a cheeky grin. I caught Sherlock's smug smirk beside me. Now it was Lestrade's turn to roll his eyes.

"Okay, gimme," Lestrade relented as I hopped off the back of the ambulance while Sherlock stood up beside me.

"The bullet they just dug out of the wall's from a hand gun. Kill shot over that distance from that kind of a weapon…that's a crack shot you're looking for, but not just a marksman; a fighter. His hands couldn't have shaken at all, so clearly he's acclimatized to violence. He didn't fire until we were in immediate danger, though, so strong moral principle. You're looking for a man probably with a history of military service...,' Sherlock started as we both looked around the area. Our eyes both fell on John who was standing some distance away behind the police tape. "... and nerves of steel...," He continued before trailing off. John looked back at the two of us innocently than turned his head away. It was John who made the shot that saved our lives. Lestrade turned to follow our gaze but Sherlock turned back to him before he could start to ask questions.

"Actually, do you know what? Ignore me," Sherlock told him suddenly.

"Sorry?" Lestrade asked him dumbfounded as I turned away from John. I couldn't even begin to consider what he had done for us.

"Ignore all of that. It's just the, er, the shock talking," Sherlock told him as we both started walking towards John.

"Where're you going?" Lestrade asked us as we continued to walk away from him.

"We just need to talk about the rent Greg," I answered him nonchalantly.

"But I've still got questions for you," Lestrade called after us. Sherlock turned back to him in irritation and I turned around slowly on my heel to face Lestrade again.

"Oh, what now? I'm in shock! Look, I've got a blanket!" Sherlock snapped at him as he brandished the sides of his blanket at Lestrade as if to prove his point.

"Sherlock!" Lestrade called in exasperation.

"And we just caught you a serial killer ... more or less," Sherlock finished. Lestrade looked at us thoughtfully for a moment.

"Okay. We'll bring you in tomorrow. Off you go, "Lestrade told us. I beamed at him before turning around and heading off in John's direction again. Sherlock took the blanket from his shoulders as we walked and bundled it up as we approached John who was standing at the side of a police car. Sherlock tossed the blanket through the open window of the car before he lifted up the police tape and ducked under it with me.

"Um, Sergeant Donovan's just been explaining everything, the four pills. Been a dreadful business, hasn't it? Dreadful," John started as we walked up to him. Sherlock and I looked at him for a moment in silence.

"Good shot," Sherlock complimented him quietly.

"Excellent marksmanship," I told John knowingly.

"Yes. Yes, must have been, through that window," John said trying and utterly failing to look innocent

"Well, you'd know," I told John with a laugh as I nudged him in his good arm playfully. John gazed at us still trying unsuccessfully to not let his expression give him away.

"Need to get the powder burns out of your fingers. I don't suppose you'd serve time for this, but let's avoid the court case," Sherlock told John as his eyes zeroed in on John's hands.

"I hear the paperwork is astronomical though. It's the only thing that keeps me from shooting Anderson,' I said crinkling my nose up as John cleared his throat and looked around nervously.

"Are you all right?" Sherlock asked him sounding actually concerned.

"Yes, of course I'm all right," John told him as if that was self-explanatory.

"Well, you did just kill someone," I pointed out to John with a slight quirk of my eyebrow.

"Yes, I ...," John said before he trailed off. "That's true, innit?" John asked us as he smiled. We watched him carefully for any signs of shock. "But he wasn't a very nice man," John finished. No signs of shock, he was fine then again, he had been in the military. Sherlock nodded in agreement as I hummed my own agreement.

"No. No, he wasn't really, was he?" Sherlock asked him thoughtfully.

"And frankly a bloody awful cabbie," John joked. Sherlock and I chuckled before we tuned and led John away from the crime scene.

"That's true. He was a bad cabbie. Should have seen the route he took us to get here!" Sherlock joked back. John and I giggled as Sherlock smiled.

"Stop! Stop, we can't giggle, it's a crime scene! Stop it!" John chastised us. I rolled my eyes at him before I slipped my arm into his.

"You're the one who shot him. Don't blame us," I told John who shushed me quickly.

"Keep your voice down!" John hissed as we walked past Sergeant Donovan. "Sorry…it's just, um, nerves, I think," John told Donovan sheepishly. She shot him a dirty look.

"Sorry," Sherlock told her as I waved her a mock salute. John cleared his throat as we walked away from Donovan.

"You were gonna take those damned pills, weren't you?" John asked us suddenly. Sherlock and I turned back to him.

"Course I wasn't. Biding my time. Knew you'd turn up," Sherlock told him and I snorted at his bold faced lie. He was going to take the pill whether I decided to play the game with him or not. John turned to me for my answer. I sighed before smiling at him again.

"Same as Sherlock, I knew you would turn up eventually. Of course you could have been a bit more punctual," I said as I shrugged. John looked between the both of us and shook his head in exasperation.

"No you didn't, neither of you knew I would show up. It's how you get your kicks, isn't it? You risk your lives to prove you're clever," John shot back at us as he stopped walking causing me to have to come to a stop beside him.

"Why would we do that?" Sherlock asked him with one raised eyebrow.

"Because you're idiots," John told us. Sherlock and I smiled in delight, we had finally found someone who could understand us. After a moment Sherlock forced his smile down, but I was still beaming away.

"Dinner?" Sherlock asked us still smirking slightly.

"Starving," John told him as I nodded in agreement. We turned and started to walk again as I linked arms with the army doctor. We looked at each other and I grinned as I leaned into him and giggled. This had been quite a night and a marvellous first introduction.

"End of Baker Street, there's a good Chinese stays open 'til two. You can always tell a good Chinese by examining the bottom third of the door handle," Sherlock educated us. I looked up at the sound of a cat pulling up in front of us. I watched as the door to the black car opened and Mycroft stepped out of the back seat.

John stared at him "Sherlock, Lexi. That's him. That's the man I was talking to you about," John hissed as Sherlock looked across at the man.

"I know exactly who that is," Sherlock told John as he walked closer to Mycroft and stopped looked at him angrily. John glanced round to gauge where the police were in case he needed to summon their help. I laughed before disentangling my arm from John's and walking causally over to Mycroft and Sherlock.

"So, another case cracked. How very public spirited ... though that's never really your motivation, is it?" Mycroft said pleasantly enough.

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock bit out angrily.

"As ever, I'm concerned about you. Lexi also texted me that she was in a situation that needed my attention. I was concerned about the both of you," Mycroft told Sherlock calmly.

"Yes, I've been hearing about your 'concern'," Sherlock said snidely with a slight sneer.

"Always so aggressive. Did it never occur to you that you and I belong on the same side?" Mycroft asked him. I sighed at the childish behaviour they were displaying.

"Oddly enough, no!" Sherlock told him his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"We have more in common than you like to believe. This petty feud between us is simply childish. People will suffer ... and you know how it always upset Mummy," Mycroft said and I watched John frown. I laughed which drew Mycroft's attention. John hadn't figured out they were brothers yet.

"I upset her? Me?" Sherlock asked him. Mycroft glowered back at him. "It wasn't me that upset her, Mycroft."

"Actually you both upset her," I told them and both men snapped their heads towards me. "She told me about your whole little feud. Mummy isn't happy with either of you."

"No, no, wait. Mummy? Who's Mummy?" John asked in exasperation as he tried to follow what was going on.

"Mother… our mother. Well mine and his. This is my brother, Mycroft," Sherlock told John as John stared back at Mycroft in amazement.

"Putting on weight again?" Sherlock asked Mycroft suddenly.

"Losing it, in fact," Mycroft shot back with a tight lipped smile.

"He's your brother?!" John asked still sounding shocked.

'Of course he's my brother," Sherlock gritted out with a sigh.

"So he's not..." John began before trailing off.

"Not what?" Sherlock asked him as the brothers looked at John who shrugged in embarrassment.

"I dunno…criminal mastermind?" John asked, grimacing at having even suggested it. Sherlock looked at Mycroft disparagingly.

"Close enough."

"For goodness' sake. I occupy a minor position in the British government," Mycroft told him and I snorted.

"Yeah Croft, like anyone is going to believe that," I told him as I patted his shoulder. He looked down at me despairingly.

"He is the British government, when he's not too busy being the British Secret Service or the CIA on a freelance basis," Sherlock told John. Mycroft sighed heavily one that I was altogether too used to and he only used when he was really exasperated.

"I still don't get how Lexi knows him," John pointed out and I looked over at him and shrugged.

"I've known Croft for four years now. I snuck into a government party, it was love at first sight," I told John laughing as Mycroft glared at me.

"Very amusing," Mycroft told me and I shrugged at him.

"I'm just emphasizing our close bond. We're so close you practically know what I am doing at any given moment of the day. No wait…you do," I said with a bit of sarcasm. Mycroft sighed again as Sherlock smirked.

"Good evening, Mycroft. Try not to start a war before I get home. You know what it does for the traffic," Sherlock told him before he walked away. John started to follow him, but then he turned back to Mycroft who had turned to watch Sherlock as he walked away.

"So, when…when you say you're concerned about him, you actually are concerned?" John asked him with a slight frown on his face.

"Yes, of course," Mycroft told him as I slipped my arm into Mycroft's.

"I mean, it actually is a childish feud?"

"He's always been so resentful. You can imagine the Christmas dinners," Mycroft told him as he continued to watch Sherlock; retreating form. I laughed and shook my head. That would be something I would pay good money to see.

"Yeah ... no. God, no!" John said in horror as he half turned to follow Sherlock. "I-I'd better, um ..." He continued as he turned back to Anthea who was standing nearby with her eyes fixed in her BlackBerry. "Hello again," He told her. She looked up and smiled at him brightly.

"Hello," She said before she turned back to her phone.

"Yes, we-we met earlier on this evening," John told her. She stared at him as if she had never seen him before, but reacted as if she was trying to pretend that she remembered him.

"Oh!"

"Okay, good night," He told her including Mycroft in his glance before he turned and followed after Sherlock.

"Good night, Doctor Watson," Mycroft called to him before turning to me. "Would you like a ride back to your flat?" He asked me and I shook my head.

"No, I'm good. I'm actually going to go and catch up with them," I told Mycroft before I gave him a one armed hug which he stiffly returned. "By Anthea," I called over my shoulder.

"Bye Lexi," She called looking up from her phone with a beaming smile. I ran after Sherlock and John, pushing my way between them and sliding my arms through there's.

"Mmm! I can always predict the fortune cookies," Sherlock was saying as I caught up with them. I snorted at the conversation I had walked into.

"No you can't," John told him pointedly as he looked over at me with a grin on his face. I giggled and skipped between them, happy to have my boys, one on either side of me.

"Almost can. You did get shot, though," Sherlock said suddenly changing the subject.

"Sorry?" John asked him confused.

"In Afghanistan. There was an actual wound."

"Oh, yeah. Shoulder," John told us sheepishly.

"Your shoulder? How does getting shot in the shoulder give you a psychosomatic limp?" I asked John with a laugh and he shot me a withering look.

"Shoulder! I thought so," Sherlock cried triumphantly, ignoring what I had just said. To be fair I had a really good point. How did getting shot in the shoulder give someone a limp? It made no since at all. Of course it could have been related to PTSD, but John really didn't have any of that. He missed the battle.

"No you didn't," John told him and I rolled my eyes. Oh so he could answer him, but when I made a valid point I was ignored. Fine Watson, be that way.

"The left one," Sherlock told him.

"Lucky guess."

"I never guess."

"Yes you do," John told him with a laugh as he looked past me to find that Sherlock was smiling. "What are you so happy about?" John questioned him as he looked at me quizzically.

"Moriarty," Sherlock told John. I looked over at Sherlock and we shared a look of understanding.

"What's Moriarty?" John asked us curiously.

"I've absolutely no idea," Sherlock told him cheerfully.

Moriarty, the name rang a bell, but I couldn't remember where I had heard it before. It was defiantly Irish. Maybe it was someone I knew before or had met? They seemed to know who I was from back when I worked cases. Who would go to all these lengths? I wasn't so sure I wanted to find out who it was. Sometimes, ignorance was bliss.


Mycroft's POV

Back at the car, Anthea turned to Mycroft who was still watching the trio as they walked away. "Sir, shall we go?" Anthea asked him.

"Interesting, that soldier fellow," Mycroft remarked. Anthea looked up briefly at the departing trio before she turned her attention back to her BlackBerry. "He could be the making of my brother and Lexi…or make them worse than ever. Either way, we'd better upgrade their surveillance status. Grade Three Active."

Anthea looked up from her beloved phone with a look of confusion. "Sorry, sir. Whose status?"

"Sherlock Holmes, Alexandria MacKenna, and Doctor Watson," Mycroft told her before turning and slipping back into his car. There was one things Mycroft Holmes was certain of and that was that the game had only just begun.