Ripple

By: Raven612

Chapter 9: A Shot to the Heart

Summary: Moriarty makes his move on Sherlock.

A/N: I am so sorry this took so long. You guys can have all the fresh baked chocolate chip cookies you need to love me again. Shoot me a review when you finish reading and check my profile for my changed tumblr URL! Also, quick thanks to the loads of favorites and alerts! You guys rock!


*Day 7 of Hell*

John's fingers slid easily down the slick torso of the tall, pale man in front of him. He grins and his teeth catch a pink nipple and pull on it gently. A low moan sounds from above and slender fingers wind through his hair. John purrs against the sensation. His hand moves through the course curls at the apex of Sherlock's legs and his fingers wind around the erect shaft.

"John…" Sherlock moans and his head falls forward so his lips bury in the wet strands of John's hair. His back is to the wall and stray water droplets bounce from John's shoulders into his eyes.

John grins and slides his hand up Sherlock's cock and twirls his thumb around the head while applying a little pressure, "We should not be doing this," John whispers and the grin on his face betrays his words.

A low chuckle emanates from Sherlock's chest and his hands splay over John's back and move down to grip his arse. "The twins won't be awake for another hour," he purrs as he bends his head to nip at John's ear.

John grins and tips his face up against the spray from the shower, and even with his eyes closed he finds Sherlock's lips. Their lips slip and slid over each other slicked from the shower, and the sensation sends a shiver racing across John's body. His quick little tongue darts out to trace along the seam of Sherlock's lips, and Sherlock opens to him.

Sherlock's arms tighten around John drawing him in closer and a moan escapes from his throat to be lost in John's. Sherlock bucks his hips to signal to John that his hand has stopped moving. John smirks and pulls back from the kiss a little. He gives Sherlock's cock one long pull, and then lowers his fist to the base again.

"Needy this morning?" John teases and draws Sherlock's bottom lip between his teeth and gives it a firm pull.

Sherlock responds with a moan and a hard buck of his hips against John's, "Stop teasing me," he hisses and one of his hands leaves John's back to grasp the doctor's cock. Sherlock gives it a slow stroke and grins.

John's eyes squeeze shut and his muscles tighten as Sherlock starts to stroke his cock. John buries his head into Sherlock's chest and he twists his fist on Sherlock's shaft. He grins, and nips at the skin in front of his lips. His cock twitches when he feels Sherlock shiver.

"God John…" Sherlock trails and his fist tightens in response around John's cock. He squeezes the shaft as he draws his hand up it and circles his thumb around the cleft in the head of John's cock.

John shivered and his own hand started to move quickly over Sherlock's shaft. He pulled his fist up Sherlock's cock and squeezed a bit tighter just under the head and then he moved his fist up to encompass the sensitive head of his cock. The moan from above signals Sherlock's approval, and John grins. John tipped his head up and blinked against the water. Sherlock groaned and looked down at John.

Sherlock raised his free hand and cupped John's cheek as he lowered to softly kiss the doctor's lips. Sherlock moved his tongue lazily into John's mouth and moved his hand down to gently grip John's balls. John gave a slight jump at the new sensation and his hips bucked. His cock bumps against Sherlock's and a new shiver of desire races along his spine.

"Jesus," John whimpers against Sherlock's lips and his muscles tense for a moment. He's close, so very close.

"Come for me John," Sherlock whispers in a gravelly voice right into John's ear.

John's free hand shoots up to tightly grip Sherlock's shoulder, and his breathes come in short pants. His own hand on Sherlock's cock twists and pulls to urge the man to his own completion. A keening noise tumbles from John's lips, and his leg muscles begin to tighten as his hips start to buck helplessly into Sherlock's hand. John latches his lips onto Sherlock's shoulder and bites down as his cock twitches in Sherlock's hand and the coil in his stomach lets go, and his ejaculate spurts out onto Sherlock's taught stomach. Sherlock's hand continues to move over John's cock, pulling his seed from him.

"Unnngh," Sherlock rumbles as John's hot semen hits his stomach and his back arches. His cock is forced through the tight fist John has made and his own orgasm ripples through him and hits John's torso.

Both men stand panting under the cooling spray of the shower. Sated smiles move over both of their faces, and John reaches up and Sherlock pulls him closer. In that moment, in their cocoon of love and comfort and lazy morning touching, nothing else exists. Moriarty is not a threat, a set of four year old twins are not sleeping down the hall, and there is not a threat to the lives Sherlock loves most. There is only John and there is only Sherlock. Their lips meet in a slow kiss and their fingers twine together. Neither man has to say it because they can both feel it.


"But I don't want to go to daycare today Uncle John," Anna protested a quarter of an hour later as she sat with her brother and uncle at the kitchen table.

John didn't bother looking over the newspaper, "You make the same argument each morning Anna, it's not going to work today," he remarked and lifted his cup of coffee to his lips and sipped delicately at it.

Anna huffed and stabbed her fork through the apple piece on her plate, "Can't we come and work with you? We got to work with Uncle Lock already," she pouted again. Let it be known that even at four years old, Anna knew how to pit her Uncles against each other.

James paled at the reminder and his fork slipped from his hand.

John sighed and lowered the paper. He reached over and gave James' hand a gentle squeeze and smiled at him, "You won't ever be joining Sherlock again and you will be going to daycare today," he said with an air of finality and got up from his chair and moved to the sink and rinsed his plate and cup.

Just as John finished rinsing his dishes Sherlock came into the kitchen. He raised a brow at the twins and looked at John, "I'll be with Lestrade for most of the day," he said as he moved to occupy the chair John had vacated.

"Canf weef comph wif you?" Anna mumbled around a mouthful of food and grinned.

Sherlock frowned, "Don't talk with your mouth full Anna," he scolded and grabbed the paper from where John had left it.

Anna frowned and swallowed her toast and grabbed her last apple slice and threw it at Sherlock, "Uncle Lock, stop being rude," she scolded right back.

Sherlock blinked and narrowed his gaze; James shrank back and ate his breakfast in silence. Sherlock picked up the apple slice and popped it into his mouth and shot Anna a smirk. "No, you can't come with me and I am not rude," Sherlock responded after he had swallowed the apple.

Anna glared, "You're no fun," she pouted and slumped back into her chair.

James looked between his sister and Uncle. He opened his mouth to say something, looked at Sherlock, and snapped it shut.

John turned from the sink and crossed his arms, he settled his gaze on Sherlock, "Children, there is no fighting at the breakfast table," he warned and moved to grab Anna's plate and cup.

James piped up then, "I wasn't fighting Uncle John, they were," he pointed to each guilty party.

John chuckled and shook his head, "I know James, I was talking to the children that were arguing," John tossed a pointed look to Sherlock. Sherlock ignored him and snapped the paper up so that he could read it.

James grinned, pleased to clear up the confusion that hadn't been present. He finished his oatmeal and ignored his sister's kicks to his chair. Once he finished he grabbed the empty bowl and slid from his chair. He brought his bowl to John. John accepted the bowl and cleaned it. He wiped his hands and turned to face the table. James had resumed his seat and Anna was standing in her chair bent halfway across the table poking the paper Sherlock was reading with a fork. John grinned at the scene. It was so domestic and it was also so very humorous because domesticity and Sherlock did not fit comfortably in the same thought. John shook his head, and moved behind Anna's chair. He hooked an arm under her waist and lifted her from the seat.

Anna jumped when she felt John grab her, "Hey!" she protested and her fork fell to the table with a clatter.

"Enough annoying Sherlock for now Anna, time to get ready to go," he ordered and set her on her feet.

Anna shot Sherlock one last glare and marched away. James scrambled from his chair and followed her.

Sherlock lowered his paper and looked up at John, "One more week and those hellions are not welcome back," he muttered and put the paper down on the table and accepted the cuppa John gave him.

John smirked and leaned against the counter and regarded his lover with a curious look, "You know you'll miss them when they go home. Don't deny it Sherlock, I saw the grin while Anna was vying for your attention," John teased and raised a brow challenging Sherlock.

Sherlock didn't answer. He glared at him and concentrated on his tea. He would miss the twins, but he didn't have to let John know he was right. His eyes followed John's movements through the kitchen as he prepared to leave for work and drop the twins at their daycare. John had been working hard to take care of the twins and Sherlock would make sure the doctor had a good rest after the kids were gone. He deserved it, and so did Sherlock for that matter.

"Sherlock, are you listening?" John asked and Sherlock noticed the doctor was standing in front of him waving a hand in his face.

"Yes John?" he asked and set his cup back on the table and leaned back.

"I asked you about the message from last night. What did it say? Do I have to worry about the twins?" John glanced towards the door to the kitchen to make sure the twins weren't in earshot.

Sherlock's jaw clenched. He recalled clearly the message Moriarty had sent to him. His fingers tightened as he refused to fist them in frustration. The truth was, he was worried about the twins and about John. It was very clear Moriarty was targeting them, but Sherlock didn't want to worry any one of them; he'd take care of it. If Moriarty wanted to threaten his family and the ones he loved, well then Sherlock would personally kill the man himself and enjoy every blissful moment of it.

"No, no need to worry. He was simply expressing his frustrations at my apprehension of his killer," Sherlock said and forced a smile across his lips before getting up from the table, "I'll be home late I imagine, Lestrade and his people need all the help they can get," he muttered and pressed a kiss into John's soft hair as he strode from the kitchen.

John frowned, he knew the smile was forced, but he knew better than to fight Sherlock, "Be careful Sherlock, don't let your arrogance cloud your judgment," John warned and shot him a pointed look from the kitchen doorway.

Sherlock smirked and pulled his scarf around his neck, "I'm always careful doctor," he replied and left the flat.

John chuckled and went to check on the twins and see how they were coming along with getting dressed. Not a morning went by that they wouldn't engage in a wrestling match and John would be pressed for time as he'd hurry them all out the door and into a cab. He grinned to himself as he walked to the room the twins were occupying, although they proved to be great pains in the arse, he still couldn't imagine his life without them. He pushed their door open and was not surprised that they were in a heap on the floor fighting over a sock. He sighed, but the slight grin offset his exasperation.


John tapped his pen against his desk. He looked over the records a nurse had brought him. He was be examining a new patient in a few minutes. An older woman who always complained about arthritis pains and seemed to always find something wrong with each doctor she saw. John had been warned about her and took it in stride. Absolutely nothing could compare to his time in Afghanistan, surely he could handle one little old woman.

A soft knock at his door had him looking up, "Come in," he called as he rose from his desk and opened the door the rest of the way for the older couple that came shuffling in. The man was tall and slender with a mop of white hair on his head. The woman he pushed in a chair was large and dressed in baggy clothes with an afghan wrapped around her legs. She had stringy gray hair that hung to her shoulders. She did not looked pleased to be there. The man was more sympathetic and had a warm smile on his face.

The old man looked up and smiled at John, "Dr. Watson, pleased to meet you, I'm Ian Samuels," the older man said introducing himself.

"Mister Samuels, pleased to meet you, and you must be Cora," John said with a smile as he acknowledged the woman in the wheelchair that Ian was pushing.

"Just get this over with doctor, I don't like to be kept waiting," the woman croaked and looked up from her chair and fixed him with a glare.

John kept his grin, "Right, we can get started straight away," he said and motioned for the couple to sit before his desk. He moved behind it and grabbed her files again. He typed a few things on his computer and turned back to Ian and Cora. They actually reminded John a great deal of his grandparents and he smiled at the memory. He folded his hands on his desk, "Cora, why don't you tell me why you're here," he said to her and settled into this chair prepared for the snarky comments and bristly attitude he'd expected based on her reports and warnings from other doctors.

Cora glared, "It's obvious. My last doctor was a dumb shit. I'm looking for a doctor who actually knows what he's doing," she spat and wiggled a bit in her chair and clasped her hands in front of her.

Ian frowned, "I apologize doctor, she really is a sweet woman, but loosing use of her legs a few years back has hardened her a little," the man tried to apologize for his wife's behavior.

John chuckled and shook his head, "No need to worry Mr. Samuels, I've got one at home too and his legs work just fine."

Cora's back snapped straight and her glare hardened, "We are done here Ian, I'm not seeing a homo doctor," she snapped and started to roll herself backwards.

Ian paled and his feeble hands twisted in his lap. He shot John an apologetic look and turned to his wife. John frowned. He sighed and turned away from the couple sitting in front of him to let them square out the small matter. He tried not to hear the words that slipped with venom from Cora's lips. He'd messed up and said too much. He rubbed a hand over his face and stared out the window.

"Oh Johnny boy, how are the twins this morning?" John paled at the question and just before he turned to see who had asked it, a searing hot pain soared through his shoulder and his window shattered. His mouth opened to yell out in pain, but a cloth was shoved into it. He fell to the side of his chair into a pair of strong arms. His eyes squeezed shut as black encroached on his vision. He had no time to react. Something was on the cloth in his mouth and it was starting to numb him. His whole body sagged into the body of Ian Samuels, who was no longer an old man.

"Fuck," was the only eloquent thing that John Watson could utter before his world went black. The two people who had posed as the older Samuels couple quickly stripped John of his white jacket. The woman pulled her clothes and wig off revealing a much younger and slender woman. They moved quickly and dressed John in the clothes the woman was wearing and put his limp body into the wheelchair. The woman left the office first and slipped out the back. The man was next and quickly pushed John from the office. He hoped the blood currently seeping from the bullet hole in John's shoulder wouldn't drip to the floor and give them away. He smiled and nodded at the receptionist and he pushed John out through the entrance and met the woman in a white van.

Across the street Sebastian Moran grinned. He took apart his gun and loaded it into its case. He grinned wider, he'd gotten John in the shoulder, the same exact spot he'd shot the doctor in years ago in Afghanistan.

Across town a daycare's kitchen burst into flames due to faulty wiring. In the chaos of kids and teachers, no one noticed a pair of four year old twins that were taken into a black van.

In the midst of the chaos a pink phone chimed and the world's only consulting detective stumbled as he read the message that accompanied a picture.

Checkmate. –JM


A/N: I promise not to make you guys wait too long for the next chapter! Review and let me know what you all think! As usual, not beta or Brit-pick so all mistakes are mine. I looked for mistakes and fixed what I saw, but I probably have missed a few of them. Thank you for reading!