So sorry this story took me so long to update you guys! I was trying to get my other story on a better track, but apparently I failed at that, so back to this one! Hahah

Anyhow, A HUGE thanks to my wonderful reviewers!

Freja221b: Thanks so much my dear! Sorry it took me so long to update!

Hannahhobnob: Thnaks! You'll hear part of it this chapter!

Gwilwillith: Thanks so much, as always my dear!

Homesickalieen: You'll see parts of it in this one! :D I have stuff up my sleeves.

Newtofanfic: hahah Trying to! I know… I got carried away with it. But you are right. I actually thought that after last chapter!

Anyhow, a lot of new info this chapter!

Enjoy!

Madeline eyed her cellphone eagerly on her desk before she sat back and stared at the article she was curiously flipping through on her computer at the office; all mainly on her now, nearly web-celebrity ex-husband.

She had been avoiding him. She hadn't seen him since he had shown up at her flat that one time and left in a hurry after stabbing a dagger through her heart with words. She had to get over him. Milo and Liam had been all over her trying to get her to go out with the few straight men that they met, but she had refused them all. She had to move on. She knew that… she just wanted the divorce to be final before she did.

One question haunted her though; why on earth was he refusing to sign the papers if he had no feelings left for her?

Madeline shut her eyes and sighed before looking back at the articles she couldn't stop herself from reading.

She suppressed a smile as she read what the tabloids were calling him; The Riechenbach hero. Apparently saving an invaluable German painting from the mid-eighteenth century was the kind of work he was doing now. He was good at cases no one could solve; not these cases in which the police and security were inept.

"Sherlock, that is way below you, love," Madeline muttered to herself as she made her way to his flat mate's infamous blog.

She laughed out loud as she saw a picture of him in a deerstalker. She had known that man for almost twenty years and that had to have been the most absurd thing she had ever seen him in.

She had to make fun of him for this the next time she saw him…

She frowned at her own train of thought and wanted to smack herself for getting back on the topic.

Madeline knew deep down that she needed to keep badgering him to sign the papers so she could finally move on, but honestly… she didn't even know if she wanted a divorce.

Its for the best Maddie… you know that….

It was true. Their marriage and relationship was beyond repair. It had been for years. Those six damn years that both of them had been too damn proud, or afraid, or some combination of both; to reach out and try to fix things. Every day that had gone by for two whole years she had picked up her phone and almost dialed that number. She had given up hope when it had reached the three-year mark and he hadn't even bothered to contact her, or even apologize.

She had held out hope until this last year when she had filed for divorce and only escalated things when he hadn't even bothered responding to the letters she had sent.

Seeing him again, bantering with him… it had felt as if things had never changed between them. As if someone had hit rewind and taken them back to when they were sixteen, best friends, and both were too afraid to make a move. It hadn't been until he had been in her flat that he had lashed out at her.

It had been six year… he couldn't blame her for asking to end it. They couldn't sit in this purgatory forever. Lord knows he had probably moved on. He was essentially a celebrity now, and a good-looking one at that. He could have any woman he wanted.

He's still single, and his flat mate was shocked that he had been in a prior relationship with you… that has to say something, Maddie.

You also left him when he was broken…

I had to. He didn't leave me a choice.

It's for the best.

It was for the best.

A knock on her door brought her out of her thoughts, as Turner pushed her door open.

"Madeline, are you supposed to be blocked off for today?" he asked her as he walked in.

"Yep," she responded as she closed her computer, "A client wanted me open all day today."

He looked at her quizzically, "You put this on the books three weeks ago."

Madeline looked at him a shrugged, "He paid my hourly salary and then some."

"Which client?" Turner asked.

"Brook."

Turner smiled at her, "Well, at least he leaves us a hefty bill!"

Madeline gave her boss a large fake smile as he walked out before she rolled her eyes at his greed.

How in the hell did she end up on the soul sucking side of the law? The one where her boss didn't even ask if her client was going to be breaking the law…?

She sighed and pulled up her computer once more, before a text message brought her out of her thoughts.

Her breath caught in her throat as she had been dreading that number popped up on her phone screen. Her heart plummeted into her stomach as she picked up her phone and opened the message from the said, Mr. Richard Brook.

I'm in a bit of trouble under the alias of Jim Moriarty, and I would like to keep it that way. I do believe my name is attorney client privilege if I wish it to be. Tower of London. Bring you're a-game Maddie dear.

Madeline frowned at her phone.

Tower of London?

Who in the hell wants their name under attorney client privilege?

She set down her phone and took a deep breath.

She had a horrible feeling about this…

$&&$#$#

John walked through the kitchen rubbing a towel on his head, trying to get the moisture off from the shower, passing his flat mate who was sitting at the table, completely immersed in his microscope. He had to duck underneath the large male manican dressed in one of Sherlock's suits before he grabbed the paper, hearing a phone go off.

"There's your phone," he said as scanned through the paper.

"Keeps doing that," Sherlock said dismissively as John doubted that he even looked up from his microscope.

Silence.

…

"So," John said after a moment as he skimmed the paper, "Did you just talk to him for a really long time?"

"Who?" Sherlock asked as he looked up from his work, "Oh, Henry Fishguard? Never committed suicide." He lifted the book he had been using for the case that was covered in dust, "Those treat runners never miss anything," he said sarcastically as he slammed the dusty book shut.

"Pressing case, is it?" John quipped back.

"They are all pressing to themselves," Sherlock responded, looking back at his microscope.

They fell into silence more. John flipped through the paper, but his mind was hardly on the paper in front of him.

His flat mate had been better… a lot better than he had been. Madeline had been scarce for some reason and Sherlock had thrown himself into any case he could get his hands on, no matter how minute it was. He was a bit worried about his friend ignoring his problems, but it seemed that Madeline had as well. Sherlock still refused to talk about it, but he was at least seemingly back to his old self.

…now the only thing that was worrying him was how publically famous he was becoming. Every damn paper had picked up on him since the Reichenbach painting case and the press was becoming more and more of a hassle; though he had to admit that his blog was doing better than ever.

BEEP.

John sighed and glanced over at the phone once more, before looking over at Sherlock.

"I'll get it, shall I?" he asked as he got up and checked the phone, knowing Sherlock couldn't be bothered with it.

John's face dropped as he read the message.

No….

He walked over and held out the phone for him.

"Here," he said breathlessly.

"Not now," Sherlock muttered as he looked through his microscope, "I'm busy."

"Sherlock…"

"NOT NOW!"

"He's back," John said breathlessly.

Sherlock stiffened before he slowly pulled away, looking at John before grabbing his phone and reading the message.

Come and Play. Tower Hill. Jim Moriarty x.

^#(* & (()*

Detective Inspector Lestrade ran a hand over his face as he looked through the security footage for the umpteenth time since he arrived here.

This was a nightmare.

Tower of London, Pentonville Prison, and Bank of London… all in one bloody day not to mention the fact that they all took place with a half hour…

Not even his damn division….

"Ma'am! You can't go in there!" Donovan yelled as heels clacked on the floor at a fast pace towards him.

He looked up to see a brunet striding confidently towards him, and he had to say… just when he thought his day had been bad enough.

"What in the hell are you doing here?" he asked the young lawyer, waving off Donovan.

"What?" Madeline chided with a fake smile, "Not happy to see me, British George Clooney?"

"Trying to make my life a living hell now too?" Lestrade asked, "Sherlock's not even here yet."

Madeline looked at him with slight shock. The DI frowned at her barriers coming down for maybe half a second as she looked at him in shock, before it was covered up immediately once more.

"Not my goal today Detective inspector," Madeline said as she put back on her poker face and turned towards the screen, "Want to take me through the footage?"

"Uh, no," Lestrade told her, "You aren't a prosecutor."

"No, my client called me though," she said, avoiding his eye.

Lestrade's jaw went slack.

"You are defending Moriarty?" he asked in blatant shock, "You?"

"Shut up and play the damn tape Detective Inspector," Madeline bit back.

Lestrade sighed and played the tape of Moriarty dancing, pulling something out of his pocket, pressing buttons on his phone, and sticking his gum on the unbreakable glass of the Crown Jewels before writing a message in mirror image so that it would appear frontwards on the screen.

GET SHERLOCK

Madeline felt her blood run cold in her veins. What in the hell was this? Did Brook have a vengeance on Sherlock? Or was this his fame getting to him?

"You have no idea who this guy is, do you?" Lestrade asked her quietly.

"Excuse me," Madeline said as she grabbed her purse and stormed out of the building; thoughts running at a million miles an hour.

"WAIT!" Lestrade yelled after her.

"Good day!" Madeline yelled after him as she rounded the corner and stopped in her tracks. A tall, dark-haired consulting detective was standing outside next to his blogger, staring at her strangely. Her green eyes locked with his as the world stopped moving all over again.

"What are you doing here?" Sherlock asked her, snapping her out of her thoughts.

For once in her life, Madeline didn't have an answer. She had no idea what she was doing, or what was going on with this case. She didn't know what to tell him… she wanted… she wanted to be in his arms…

… that wasn't an option though…

"Nothing," she responded before tying her scarf tighter around her neck and pressing forward and through the massive police and press crowd, disappearing before Sherlock even had a chance to respond.

"What the hell was that about?" John asked Sherlock quietly.

"OI!" Lestrade yelled from the door, "You lot are definitely going to want to see this."

Sherlock glanced once more back at the direction that Madeline had gone before walking forward towards Lestrade.

"I'm assuming the nutbag texted you?" Lestrade asked as he led them towards the surveillance, "Not like he didn't make that point clear enough.."

"Yeah…" John trailed off as they walked into the building, "Why was she here?"

"Oh, Sherlock's bloody sucking ex-wife?" Lestrade asked as he pulled up the tape.

"Wife," Sherlock corrected him without thinking, causing both men to look at him with surprise.

He shifted awkwardly for a moment.

"Technically," he continued before shifting and bending down to look at the tape.

Lestrade and John exchanged a look.

"She's defending Moriarty," Lestrade said quietly.

Sherlock stiffened and stared at Lestrade completely unblinkingly as John gaped.

"Defending him? Madeline is defending him?" John gaped.

Lestrade looked at Sherlock with worry. His blank expression and pale face worrying the older DI.

"Yeah, well, she didn't flat out say it, but she referred to him as her client."

"Shit," John cursed as he ran a hand over his face and looked at his friend who was still staring unresponsively at Lestrade.

"Sherlock?"

The consulting detective's head snapped his blogger.

"You… alright?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm alright. Of course I'm alright. I'm always alright," Sherlock snapped as he turned his attention to the screen.

John and Lestrade exchanged a wary look, knowing what was coming, before Lestrade pressed play. They all watched the same tape that Madeline had just witnessed.

"That glass is tougher than anything," Lestrade commented.

"Not as tough as crystalized carbon," Sherlock muttered as he tried to focus his mind off of a green-eyed brunet; the diamond catching his eye.

"He used a Diamond?" John asked as the words GET SHERLOCK appeared on the screen, causing all of the men's' blood to run cold, and the tall dark-haired man to stiffen before tearing out of the scene.

John sighed and looked at Lestrade, both of the men worried about the detective.

This was not going to be good…

*$&#*$(#)*) #

Madeline tapped her stiletto anxiously on the floor, her mind racing at two thousand miles per hour. She hadn't been this anxious meeting with a client since she put away the Flannery gang.

She wrapped her jacket tighter around herself, trying to calm herself in the small, cold visitation room of Pentonville prison as she awaited the arrival of her client.

She didn't have to wait much longer as the door beeped and the sound of the metal door opening caused her stomach to tie itself in even tighter knots.

The guards dragged a smiling Brook into the room, chaining and cuffing him to the table as he smirked at an unamused Madeline.

They sat in silence as the guards ensured that the prisoner was secure.

"Let us know when you are finished Ma'am," one of the guards told Madeline.

She nodded in thanks, not taking her eye off of Brook for even a second as the guards left.

The beep and slamming of the metal door, signaled that they were finally alone.

Brook's smile widened as stared at her.

"So glad you could come…" he began before Madeline cut him off.

"Shut up," she snapped, causing Brook to shut his mouth and smile at her even more as he raised an eyebrow in insincere shock.

"What's your game?" she asked in a low, and dangerous voice.

"I don't know what you mean," he told her.

"You broke into the Tower of London, wrote 'GET SHERLOCK' on the glass before smashing it and somehow broke into this damn prison, and Bank of London," she told him, "I don't get criminal's off of charges they deserve. Let alone allow clients to yank me around."

"I'm not guilty," Brook told her simply.

"Uh, yeah… yeah you are," Madeline told him, "You were caught on tape. And I doubt even anyone, even me, could dispute that."

Brook laughed, "Oh, you will. Because you don't know the full story, love."

"Try me," Madeline bit back at him.

"I wish I could," Brook told her with fake sadness, "But I cant. Its not the proper time in the story yet."

Madeline felt anger surging in her.

"You expect me to defend you?" Madeline growled at him, "You just expect me to follow along with your little plan? No, that's not how it works. Either you tell me what the hell kind of game you are playing and what you want with Sherlock Holmes, otherwise I am out that door."

Brook just smiled at her even more as he watched her curiously.

Madeline just stared at him with fire in her eyes.

"Fine," she bit before she grabbed her bag and began walking towards the door.

"You play a minor role," Brook said before she reached the door, "You defend me in this case; whether you win or lose. Or, I ruin that husband of yours for good."

Madeline stiffened and turned back around, looking at him and causing his smile to widen even more.

"There's a good girl," he said with a smirk.

"What do you have against Sherlock?" she asked, trying to keep her voice in check. Not many people knew that they had been married. Nor, the fact that they were still married.

"Oh, we go way back, love."

Madeline stared at him. She was good at reading people; she always had been. But him… she couldn't read a single thing off of this arrogant bastard.

He smiled at her before he yanked on his chain and leaned on the table, looking at her.

"You see, if you don't represent me," he told her in a quiet and strange voice, "I'll ruin him. I'll ruin him to the very core, and make him wish he had never been born."

Madeline looked at him, searching his face, before she started laughing, "Yeah, he's far too bright for that. You may think you have tricks up your sleeve, but he will squash you like an ant before you even get to him."

Brook shrugged, "He's somewhat of a worthy opponent, I'll give you that."

Madeline looked at him with somewhat of shock, "So what's this all about? The crime, going by Moriarty? All to destroy him?"

Brook looked at her for a moment before flat out laughing at her.

"Oh no, not in the slightest."

Madeline frowned at him, "Yeah, you are going to have to give me more information, otherwise, you are on your own Mr. Brook."

"Oh, you'll help me."

Madeline raised an eyebrow at him before wiping her hair out of her face, "I am not playing this game Mr. Brook. I hope you find another attorney and enjoy your stay in solitary confinement."

"Oh, how simply adorable," Brook's voice said as she walked towards the door once more, "You are still defending the man after what he did to you those six years ago."

Madeline froze once more.

No one knew about that…. No one….

She slowly turned to look at him, seeing Brook smiling at her playfully once more.

"You two," he said as he played with the handcuffs a bit, "used to be quite the power couple. You being the youngest prosecutor in the last century to ever win a worldwide case. Sherlock being… Sherlock…"

He trailed off and smiled at her.

"You bringing justice to criminals, Sherlock gathering the evidence for you, just like the good pet he was…" he chided at her.

"How do you know this?" Madeline asked, unable to hide the fear in her voice.

"Too bad you were working far too much to know that he had gotten in way too far with the Flannery family…."

"How do you know this?"

"You were both gathering information on them; both trying to take them down. You were too busy to see what was right in front of you. Either that or you were just too stupid…"

"How…?"

"You were too busy working at the office on the case that ate you alive."

Madeline stared at him as her hands shook.

"Little Susan Wallace," Brook grinned at her, "poor little girl. That case devoured you from the inside out, didn't it?"

"How do you know this?"

"You were so driven by that little girl's case, that you completely missed the fact that your husband, who you rarely saw, had thrown himself into the clan to get you information; to put your mind at rest. He started using cocaine and morphine right under your nose…"

"Shut up."

"I mean, how in the hell, do you think he got you all those names of dirty Yard cops, as well as locations of supplies and rings? A little birdy?"

"I said, shut up."

"You were like Captain Ahab and the great white whale," Brook continued, "Wanting… NEEDING, to bring down the man responsible. To rewrite your own childhood. To prove yourself worthy. The daughter of a hooker… just had to prove that you were an angel…"

Madeline was silent. She told no one about her childhood. The only people who knew about that, were the people who knew her as a child. And she had tried hard to keep those people out.

"You see, you and I aren't that different," Brook continued, "We both want to be in the spotlight. It drives us. And we don't care what happens to the people around us, because that's how we were raised…"

"You got it wrong," Madeline told him, "You got it all wrong."

Brook's smiled widened, "No, I don't, love."

Madeline was silent once more.

"You knew," Brook told her, "You knew he was spiraling out of control all because of you. And you didn't do anything. You just let it go…"

Memories surged through her mind as she willed them to stop.

He had been done. He had told her he was done. They had fought about it enough. He had done something stupid, but he had told her the truth. She forgave him.

She tried to get him off the case. She had wanted him to stop. This case wasn't worth him wasting his life over. She had loved him too much to watch him do that.

"Flannery's reach was too far," Brook's voice said as it brought her out of her thoughts, "You also knew that if he stopped, Flannery would know, and he would kill him."

"You just had to wait until the case was over; until you knew he was away and the ring was disbanded that he would be safe and you could get him clean," Brook continued, "He told you he was done. You took time off to help him get clean, but the publicity was too much. That, and you caught him with a needle in his arm more than once."

Brook stopped and looked up at her, smirk fully formed on his face, "Until that night…"

"Shut the hell up," Madeline said losing it, "how in the hell do you know this?"

Brook smiled at her, "I told you, I have my ways."

"What do you want?"

"You defend me at trial," Brook told her simply, "That's all. Or this nice little story gets leaked to the press and the world knows him for the crazed drug-addict that he really is… and the wolves devour him. His whole career going down the loo instantly."

Madeline looked at him for a moment.

"Are you… blackmailing me?"

Brook smiled at her, "Now you are catching on."

Madeline grabbed her bag and pressed the call button as the guards came and opened the door, allowing her to storm out.

"See you at the trial, love!" he yelled out after her.

*#& (* #()

Madeline stormed out of the prison, trying to keep herself together as she blinked tears out of her eyes.

Panic and anxiety building up inside of her.

How in the hell did he know that?

What had she gotten herself into?

Two people in the entire world knew her whole story besides her. Two people she used to trust more than anyone else…

Keyword, being used; past tense.

Only two people… and Richard Brook wasn't supposed to be one of them…

Review? I'm starving for them in my other story, so make my day and give me feedback on this one?