A/N: Hello Sweetie(s)!

Now, I can explain. The weather magically got RIDICULOUSLY beautiful out and I had no choice, I was nearly legally required to restock on my Vitamin D. But fret not! The next chapter is finally here!

However, I think I will post one more chapter and call this story complete. I might add some fluffy one-shots from time to time, but after I finished with this chapter, I might have run out of plot on this one

An insistent buzzing next to Sherlock's left ear finally woke the detective up. He slapped lazily at the table next to the bed until his hand located the source of his ire: his mobile. Squinting at the text, Sherlock groaned and poked John in the side with his free hand. "John." Sherlock frowned when the doctor just rolled further away and decided to poke even harder. "John, wake up. Molly will be here within the hour."

That got John's attention. He lifted his head from the pillow and studied Sherlock from beneath his severely mussed hair. "Is she still under attack?"

"Hard to say." Sherlock's mind was already fast at work narrowing down the possibilities. "I assume the person who set the Golem after her is still out of reach and needs our help to get her closer to him."

John sat up and rubbed his face in an effort to wake up. He peered over at Sherlock, who was still spread out on his back. Clearly, the man woke up infinitely more gracefully than he ever hoped to. "We just need to get this unknown person with a vendetta against Molly…Molly close enough to her to, what exactly?"

Sherlock picked that very moment to become entranced with the muscles in John's lower back. Curling around the smaller man, Sherlock ran his fingers over the skin. "You should learn to accept that the Molly you know is not the Molly that exists." Though Sherlock was speaking seriously, he kept his tone light. "She has lived longer than you could possibly fathom and has killed others. Somehow, she managed to make an enemy. We all have been there. As for your question, we just need to get him close enough to Molly so her songs will take effect."

Sherlock ended his statement with a kiss to John's lower spine. John began to twist towards Sherlock, running his hand down the man's side. "I suppose that makes sense. But what if he is unaffected?"

"If he could not be hypnotized, he would have never sent the Golem after Molly." Something odd struck Sherlock and he sat up to study John further. "Why are you not bothered by knowing about Molly's history with murder?"

John shrugged. "How can I possibly judge her for her actions when I've done the same? I might not have lived as long as her, but I've taken lives in Afghanistan."

"But you were a doctor."

"Tell that to the ones trying to kill me." John gave Sherlock a crooked smile.

Sherlock rested his chin against John's shoulder. "You truly are unlike all of the other morons out there."

John buried his face into Sherlock's curls. "And you aren't nearly as insufferable as you claim to be." He slowly dipped his hand underneath the sheets. "How long did Molly say she would be?"

"I suppose between the lag time between when she send the text and when I received it coupled with how long we have spent talking, I suppose she will be another 45 minutes. But then again, Mrs. Hudson always likes to natter on about something or another when she arrives, so that gives us oomph!" Sherlock was cut off when John's hands quickly found his shoulders and pressed him into the mattress.

"Gives us plenty of time." John growled out as he effectively ended the conversation.

Sherlock dropped his head back to the pillow as he felt John's lips work down his stomach. "Very much unlike those idiots. Practically extraordina-Oh god, John!"

Exactly 57 minutes later, Molly knocked on Sherlock and John's door before she let herself in. John held up the kettle. "Fancy a cuppa?"

"Please." Molly smiled at John. "Would you mind if I took a moment before we delve into my little problem? I could use the distraction."

"Sure thing." John slid Molly a mug of tea and slapped down a plate in front of Sherlock. "Perhaps you could help me talk this git into eating something."

Sherlock sat in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest. "No."

"Sherlock, it's toast. Surely you can manage a few bites of that. We even have some jam if you would like." John held out two jars. "Marmite?"

"Jawn! You know I don't eat when I'm on a case!" Sherlock's lower lip looked precariously close to jutting out in a full-on pout.

"Technically," Molly piped up. "you aren't on a case yet. I've only said that I need help. Besides, you need extra calories whenever you change without the aid of the moon, you know this."

The look Sherlock gave Molly was one of utter betrayal. John barked out a laugh and set both jars in front of the petulant detective. "There, now you have no excuse."

Glaring at John, Sherlock bit into the toasted bread. "You aren't eating." He pointed out.

John stared back. "I already ate." Was his retort.

Sherlock suddenly became more interested in the crumb pattern assembling on his plate. Molly suppressed the urge to giggle at the obvious blush growing on Sherlock's ears. She was happy to see her dear friend finally content with a mate. Molly and John waited until Sherlock swallowed his last bite of bread, clapped his hands together, and peered back. "There, food has been consumed. So what are we up against?"

"Victor." Molly whispered.

"I knew it!" Sherlock shouted as he jumped up and started pacing. "That Djinn piece of shit can never learn to leave you alone. I should have killed him when I had the chance."

The Molly who John knew would have paled at the shout and stared at her hands. Siren Molly, on the other hand, drew up to her full height and shouted back. "What a great idea, Sherlock. Try to kill a being that can out you into an alternate reality with one mere touch! Why the hell didn't I think of that?! Out of the three of us, I'm the only one who can effectively end him. But sure, just go ahead and wind up six feet under, what a fucking genius!"

Fearing the worst as he watched Molly and Sherlock try to stare each other down, John cleared his throat. "Um, excuse me…"

"What!?" The Siren and the Werewolf shouted in unison.

"When you speak of a Djinn, are you talking about the-"

"The creature that is the real version of a genie? Yes. Only the wishes he'll grant you would be a death wish." Sherlock spat out. "They can make you hallucinate an entire new life so you aren't able to fight back as they kill you."

"And you think you can kill one?" John queried. "It sounds more logical that we would draw it closer to Molly, like you were suggesting earlier."

"Did you now?" Molly purred.

Sherlock paused. He knew he was stuck as he looked at the two slightly smug faces.

"You do realize that we are about to hunt down a Djinn named Victor in a giant forest in hopes to lure him in the direction he's been avoiding for nearly a fortnight?" John whispered as he and Sherlock made their way through the trees.

"When you say it with such a negative perspective, it sounds like we are headed to our doom. Try to keep a positive mindset, John." Sherlock muttered back with a frighteningly upbeat tone.

As John eyed the fallen trunk in front of him, he resisted the urge to throw a clot of mud at his flatmate's head. "Positive, yeah, okay. Let's see, we are about to vanquish just a small percentage of evil in the world, thus saving a damsel in distress. We're in a bloody fairy tale! Where's my horse!"

"I don't think you are taking this seriously anymore. Please go back to being negative and certain of our imminent demise." Sherlock gracefully leapt over the log as John glared and walked around it.

Molly's plan was very simple. Sherlock and John were to walk around the woods, trying to locate the Djinn, who would most likely hear them and run off. Molly had silently staked out a location close to a pond. Once Victor was within earshot, Molly would start her song and convince him to drown. Of course, the idea of being trapped by the Djinn had not appeared to be a logical outcome in Sherlock's mind.

The git.

Surprisingly, Mycroft offered assistance to John and Sherlock. Even more surprisingly, Sherlock accepted, sort of. Mycroft provided a car for John and Sherlock to drive out to the woods behind Molly's home, which was conveniently parked in case the trio required a quick escape. Knowing the creature would reside towards the back half of the forest greatly reduced the amount of land to be scoured, but there was still a fucking lot left in John's eyes. Both men dressed in dark trousers and shirts. Sherlock literally rolled his eyes when John suggested they cover their faces, as Sherlock's alabaster skin would certainly be spotted. "He needs to see us, John. If we're practically invisible, he'll instantly be on the defense."

Because that was perfectly logical.

Very little was said after clearing their first fallen tree. Sherlock and John crept around trees and peered into rock formations for any evidence of another being. After the fifth false lead, John was ready to admit the plan was fruitless until Sherlock's eyes widened. "Vatican Cameos." He mouthed. John froze and waited for Sherlock to direct the next move. The detective slowly stood up and casually sauntered over to John, who had been a mere two metres away. "He's following us. I wasn't sure before, but the second clearing with the crushed twigs had been his camp."

John tried to peer behind Sherlock, but only managed to turn his head slightly before having his body physically rotated. "Do. Not. Look." Sherlock hissed through gritted teeth. "He doesn't know that we know. Are you understanding this? We are at an advantage. He is too smug about being able to stalk us without our knowledge that he is losing sight of where his parameters are."

Breathing slowly to keep his pulse and blood pressure down, John pointed south and played along. "Obviously, this area is a bust. We haven't tried over here yet."

Sherlock's lip twitched upwards momentarily. He admired how unflappable the former soldier continued to be. They worked their way south, pausing to inspect random pilings and possible footsteps. Neither tried to look in the direction they assumed Victor had been following aside from the cursory scans. Had they avoided looking in that area altogether, the creature would have known immediately that he had been made.

A new scent permeated the air. Sherlock's nose twitched as it tried to identify whether the smell was friend or foe. After a mere moment, Sherlock determined it was Molly. She must have covered her natural scent to throw Victor off, which made sense considering their history together. He calculated another dozen yards until they were within Molly's range, which posed a whole new set of problems. Molly's Siren call was not discriminatory. If John and Sherlock were within range, they would also be placed under her spell. Sherlock turned towards John, prepared to give him further instructions.

However, the words died in his throat once he saw a pale hand snaking out from the darkness, aiming right at the back of John's neck. Fucking Victor got ahead of us. Sherlock stopped thinking, stopped analyzing, stopped breathing and merely reacted. He reached out and grabbed hold of the bottom of John's coat, wrenching the smaller man towards him and away from the threat. As soon as John was far enough away, Sherlock ripped off his Belstaff, scarf, and jacket. He changed instantly and snarled at the shadow.

John watched as the large wolf paced in a half circle around where the hand quickly retracted. He stopped to sniff the air before launching himself behind John. How can that thing move so quickly without a sound? John did not have time to ponder his own question as Sherlock jerked his canine head towards him. Extracting the firearm he was hiding, John aimed in the direction Sherlock snapped his jaws at. After a quick calculation, John figured Molly's position was due east. He adjusted his aim to the west, hoping to drive the Djinn towards their goal.

Sherlock covered John as he shot, accounting for the Southern region and worked his way west as John aimed further east. They both walked forward, keeping with the heavy artillery and only pausing for John to quickly reload. With his heightened hearing, Sherlock could just detect the Djinn scampering in the right direction. Just a bit further and Molly's song will have taken over. Suddenly, John's body tightened as he lowered the firearm. No. Sherlock thought as he recognized the slow yet steady gait. John can hear Molly. He shot forward and clenched John's right ankle with his teeth. Carefully, as to not break the bone, Sherlock dragged John back until he could feel the muscles relax. Once he heard John's muttered cursing, he finally let go and turned back into his human shape.

Once John realized what could have happened, he began to tremble. He had been so caught up in driving the Djinn to Molly, he had forgotten his own position. Though he wanted to bury his head in his hands, John had to know one thing. "Did he make it into range?"

Sherlock's attention was on the clearing just a few metres ahead. Though the moonlight was weak, he could see a dark figure emerge. John gasped as he saw what the Djinn truly looked like . Tall and well-muscled, the Victor's skin practically glowed where there were no dark markings. John had not recognized any of the designs and could not be sure if they were tattoos, scars, or something else. Then, as if he was fighting against the force of Molly's call, the Djinn turned towards Sherlock and John. He regarded them for a moment before turning back and submitting to the spell.

John and Sherlock stared after the enchanted figure as he slowly made his way out of the clearing. "Which way is she leading him?" John asked. "It doesn't look like they are going to the pond."

Sherlock did not take his eyes off of the retreating form. "Not sure."

He had not bothered to think about where the creature was going. Sherlock kept seeing his hand slowly reach for John. Just one touch and he would have lost his blogger. Shivering, Sherlock rubbed his arms and turned back to John. "We've done all we can. Molly can take care of the rest." He stretched out his hand. "Let's go home."

John reluctantly took the proffered hand, though he never moved his gaze from the tree line. "That look on his face." He muttered.

"Don't worry yourself about that, John."

"But he looked so…"

"It's time to go home, John."

"…resigned. Like he wanted Molly to catch him."

Sherlock grasped John by his upper arms. "We will never know why a creature like that would choose such a way to end his life and, you know what? I'm content with not knowing, just this one time. If you get too far into this other world, you will never be the same. You'll stop being the man I love."

John's head jerked back, his eyes wide open. "You've never said that before."

"What?"

"That you love me."

"Of course I have."

John shook his head and tried ineffectively to hide his delighted grin. "You've never said it."

"S'not my fault that you happened to not be in the room when it happens." Sherlock tried to look stern, but John's smile was rather contagious. "But you're smiling, so clearly this is information that you like."

"Well, yeah, I mean, you know what? Come here." John reached up and pulled Sherlock's head down.

Sherlock smiled into the kiss. Though he wanted to pull John closer and fully explore his mouth, he could only imagine what Molly had planned for the beaten Djinn. Reluctantly stepping back, he took John by the hand. "Let's go home."

While John accepted his hand and slowly walked out of the forest, his mind still fixated on the Djinn's expression. Sure, he had done his research and knew that Djinns died eventually. So why would one be so eager to welcome an untimely death? He looked over to Sherlock and studied the man's profile. Sherlock looked pensive and almost bothered by whatever he was thinking of. It took all of 1.2 seconds for Sherlock to notice he was being watched. While still staring ahead, he spoke. "I can feel you worrying. I'm merely trying to remember which route to take."

Sherlock observed the tension leave John's body. I must be getting better at lying. He concluded. Yes, Sherlock was indeed trying to remember the best path back, but there was something else weighing on his mind. John had been correct in assuming he had been caught on purpose. John merely thought Victor was ready to face death, Sherlock knew better though. Once he was able to see the Djinn, he knew immediately the creature was in deep mourning. Back when he originally terrorized Molly, Victor aligned himself with darker allies. However one small act changed his mind.

Victor had fallen in love.

Judging by the self-mutilation on the upper arm, Sherlock surmised that the allies the Djinn had turned his back on had sought out retribution by killing the his love. The area on the upper arm must have been a marking which signified such an alliance, suggesting a ring. Surely such a group would not be content to know how the Djinn met his end willingly. It would only be a matter of time before they would come after Sherlock and Molly. John would be used as bait, a bargaining chip. A logical man would seek to end his relationship upon such a realization. However, Sherlock was smarter than the average man. It would not matter if John was still his or not, they would still use his death to bring pain to Sherlock. As they approached the edge of the woods, Sherlock glanced over at John. A sense of amusement and wonder settled over him as he tried to picture John at the hands of such creatures. John would be no ordinary victim, he would fight tooth and nail and once his enemies are convinced they have won, that's when he would come back and kill them all.

Just as Sherlock was gauging the amount of time they would have before facing the unknown allies, John reached up and kissed him again. "I'm ready." He breathed against the taller man's mouth.

The implications of those two words hit Sherlock hard. Apparently John had also come to some sudden realizations on that walk. Clutching at John's jacket, Sherlock broke the kiss and buried his face into the blonde hair. "Are you sure this isn't some post-adrenaline rush need for more adventure? This is for life, John. I'll never let you go."

John chuckled and held onto Sherlock just as tightly. "I've never been more certain." He tilted his head up and looked Sherlock in the eye. "I love you and I want to be your mate."

Sherlock started to laugh out of disbelief and elation. He looked around. They had made it to the road where they had left the car. Sherlock began to imagine the measurements of the backseat as hundreds of sexual positions filled his head. "Right now?"

"Jesus, Sherlock!" John grinned both at the hopeful look on his mate's face as well as the abrupt erection that had grown within seconds. "I'm not that young anymore. I want to be in our bed when this happens, not pawing at each other in the car like a couple of randy teenagers."

Mildly disappointed but mostly in planning mode, Sherlock pulled John towards the vehicle. "Then let's stop banging on about it and get back to Baker Street!"

Of course I left it right there! Stay tuned for the next smut-tastic chapter.

Do your good deed for the day and leave a review. Remember, the more love I feel, the faster I write! I also get really curious about you and try to read what stories you have posted. See? Everyone wins when people leave reviews.

Have a fantastic day!