Chapter Eleven

In hearing Sherlock's yell, John didn't even have time to make it to the shower, opting to wrap himself in a sheet, escape up the stairs, to his room, and change into his day clothing within minutes as to not keep his obviously bothered partner waiting. "Sherlock?" John called, snatching the mug of lukewarm coffee Mrs. Hudson held out to him in the hallway with a small, quick smile, and giving a curt nod to the guards at the door before he slipped outside. "Sherlock?" he asked louder, turning in a small circle only to find his friend pacing up and down the length of the sidewalk, muttering incoherently to himself as he paid no mind to the people trying to walk around him. Jogging up to the detective, trying to hold his cup stable as he went, he took a small sip before swallowing and resting his free hand on Sherlock's chest, halting his movements and tapping him a few times to bring him back into reality. He looked obviously panicked, his outfit still that of something Henry Stetson would wear, the dark blue color of his navy button-up complimenting his ginger top all too well. "What's wrong?"

"They know," Sherlock breathed, standing up tall, his eyes flickering left, right, and finally down to John. "They know, John. They know," he kept repeating the same phrase under his breath, pushing past his lover swiftly as he began pacing again, making John spill his coffee onto the front of his pants, a slur of indecencies leaving his lips at the site.

"Who knows, Sherlock? And knows about what?" the soldier asked, grumbling as he wiped off his pants.

"Moriarty's men. They know I'm here, John, they know I'm alive. At least that's what Mycroft's saying. Come, we need to get you inside," Sherlock said swiftly, grabbing John's had and yanking him towards the door, practically shoving him inside and sealing the door behind him.

"Wha- what? How? You look nothing like your old self!" John exclaimed as he stumbled into 221b. "What's going on, Sherlock? How do they know!" John pestered, standing up straight and watching as Sherlock continued to pace, his eyes wild, and fearful for the first time in a long time. The lower floor of the flat was filled with voices; Mrs. Hudson's panicked remarks towards John and Sherlock's safety the guards conversations about something completely unrelated, and John's pestering of his own safety and the current situation they resided in.

Suddenly, Sherlock announced, "Shut up! All of you! Shut your lips and turn around!" he couldn't focus, his mind in a tizzy of emotions and frantic thoughts as he froze on the spot, his eyes looking out towards nowhere in particular as the room silenced around him. John's hand covered Mrs. Hudson's mouth, who's hand likewise covered his, the two guards at the door turning their backs and holding their tongues- they all knew how the genius got, and though Sherlock was panicked, he had no ideas. "I'm done for," he said after a certain matter of moments had passed.

Turning on his heel, he walked towards John. "John," he began, his hands moving up to catch the soldiers' cheeks. "I need you to listen to me, and listen well, do you hear?"

John's face went white-washed at Sherlock's words. Though Sherlock had said nothing of substance yet, he knew what was going to be said, and he wouldn't allow it. "No, Sherlock. No, I won't let you- no. Just.. We'll figure something out. We'll hide away forever if we have to. Just- don't- don't you dare say you're leaving me again, Sherlock."

Sherlock's face grew stone-cold, lathered with unemotion. "If what Mycroft is saying is true John, there's no other way. I spent the last two months trying to track down yours, Mrs. Hudson's, and Lestrade's hit-men, finding absolutely no trail. Moriarty hid them, John, I don't know where they are. I can't find them. I can't deduce their locations, I can't do anything, John, and I won't stand here and go about my life with you until I know you're perfectly safe, and if that requires me to die for real this time around… So be it."

"No," John began, swallowing and shaking it head. "Sherlock, don't."

"Sweetie…" Mrs. Hudson chimed in silently.

"No discussion. You two stay here, gentlemen-" Sherlock began, turning on his heels towards the men in suits who currently guarded the door, responding with 'sir?' to Mr. Holmes. "One of you come with me to Mycroft's office, and one of you stay here and make sure these two don't leave the premises. Ring Lestrade, tell him to get here immediately, make up a story as to why, just don't let him know I'm alive."

"Yes, sir," the two said in unison, the taller of the two opting to stay behind and protect the victims.

"And John," Sherlock began, turning towards his flat mate once more, meeting eyes with him as he stepped forward. "Please listen to me," he continued, stepping to his friend and cupping his cheeks. "I l..love you, alright? I need you safe. If you're not alive, I have no reason to be here. If I'm dead, you'll move on. I need you more then you need me; you'll function if I don't come back, but I won't function if I come home and see you're gone."

"Sherlock, don't go," John pleaded, his hands moving upwards to cover those of the tall man before him. "I can't lose you again."

"Believe in me," Sherlock said simply, leaning down and pressing a light, gentle kiss against the blonde's quivering ones, making the man tremble slightly beneath him, and Mrs. Hudson let out a muffled sob against the hand that covered her mouth. When Sherlock pulled away, John nodded once in approval to Sherlock's words before the detective turned towards Mrs. Hudson. "Be safe," he stated firmly.

"Of course, Sherlock," she replied, biting down on her lip, hating watching the two men before her possibly be separated for the final time.

"Mr. Holmes, we need to go," the shorter of the two men stated in a husky voice.

Sherlock nodded, "I love you," he told John again, giving him a curt half-smile before turning on his heels and walking to the door.

John couldn't reply, simply falling back against the staircase railing and staring forward, his body seeming to be unable to function as he watched the dark blue door slam shut. "What if he doesn't come back?" John asked in a small, breathy voice.

"Sherlock's a big boy..." Mrs. Hudson sighed, still partially surprised he was alive in the first place, and upset to watch him possibly leave for his death again, but it wasn't any of her doing, and she was in no place to comment on it. "Most of the time…"