"Don't call me Morrigan," the Evil Witch said, her eyes brimming with rage. "I am The Morrigan."

"Yes, of course. Last of your kind," the Counsellor sighed.

John stared at the Counsellor in mute horror. Was this woman trying to get him and The Doctor killed? Sure, there may be some way that she and Sherlock would be able to keep them from fully dying, but some form of physical harm was all but assured, and it would all be due to her unfortunate decision to goad the angry dragon.

"Last of my kind thanks to you," The Morrigan said, bristling. She stood between the two Doctors and wielded her blade, bringing it alternatingly between John's neck and the Time Lord's. "Weapons? Let me see what you've got."

The Counsellor held up her mobile, then put it carefully on the floor and kicked it away. Both she and Sherlock held up their hands and wrists. They were both without their bracelets, the multi-purpose tools that alternated between TARDIS keys, weapons, and massively versatile tools. Sherlock removed his Belstaff and suit jacket and put them on the floor.

The Counsellor scowled as The Morrigan swept away from the two Doctors. "For the last time, it wasn't my fault."

"And for what will not likely be the last time, I don't believe you."

"Darling?" The Doctor interjected.

The Counsellor sighed. "Doctor, you remember The Morrigan, don't you?" the Counsellor asked, the sarcasm in her voice calling to mind a beautiful, awful girl John had been half in love with at university.

"I do not."

John saw a flutter of angry heat pass from The Counsellor to The Doctor. "You inattentive bastard." She shook her head. "She was at the summit on Rigel Six."

John looked over at the Time Lord strapped to a table beside him. His expression was blank. "Rigel Six? Was I there?"

"Oh, hell." The Counsellor looked over at The Morrigan again. "If this whole setup involves me making a choice between your two captives, then go ahead and kill that one." She pointed at her ex-husband.

"Nice try," The Morrigan said, crossing her arms and being very careful of the blade she still brandished. "You don't want to be the last, trust me."

"Why not?" The Counsellor asked. "I'd reconciled myself to the thought long ago."

"But you knew he was still out there somewhere."

The Counsellor sighed. "Do you honestly think I'm incapable of revenge?"

"You?" The Morrigan was incredulous. "The sweet and wholesome Counsellor, who wants to do nothing more than heal every broken heart? Oh, please."

John had been watching Sherlock's face, trying to get the man's attention, but the detective had been preoccupied with the rather childish verbal volley between the two females in the room. He finally rocked back a little on his heels and turned his attention to The Morrigan. His left hand was still grasped firmly in the Time Lord's right, but he pointed at her with his free hand. "Her? Sweet and wholesome? Have you met?"

The Morrigan tilted her head at Sherlock. "So she's managed to work her little Diplomat Trick on you and make you think she's like you, has she? How charming."

"Sorry?"

The Morrigan sneered and gestured at their joined hands. "That. That hand-holding thing. It's how she replicates your personality. She's probably been doing it from the moment you met."

John blanched. This was not good. It wouldn't do to have Sherlock doubt his alliance with The Counsellor. As far as John could see, he was far too psychologically involved.

"You lying witch," The Counsellor said, her voice a low rumble. "Was this part of your plan? Destroy our bond, then pick us apart?"

"Three bullets," The Morrigan said, a cruel smile spreading across her face. "Three gunmen, three victims. Isn't that how it went, Sherlock Holmes?"

John watched as the color drained from Sherlock's face. Then he noticed as a bright red dot appeared over his own heart. He glanced quickly around the room and noticed the same laser sights trained on The Doctor and The Counsellor.

The Morrigan giggled. "I'm pretty sure I know who you'll choose, Mr. Holmes. Not a difficult deduction." She nodded, and the sight trained on The Counsellor shifted to Sherlock. "Again, I think I know who you'll choose, too, you raw freak. That would be twice that The Doctor dies." She nodded again, and the sight moved from John to The Counsellor. "Look at that. The Doctor dies again."

"Are you going to do me next?" The Doctor asked from where he'd been strapped. "Or are you just trying to establish that nobody in this room loves me?"

"It isn't that simple," The Counsellor muttered softly. She pulled her hand free of Sherlock's grip and walked slowly to The Doctor's table. The Morrigan bristled as she passed, but did nothing to stop her.

"Hello, darling," The Doctor said softly. His eyes were wide as he regarded his former wife.

John was close enough to see The Counsellor wince. She drew her hand back and brought it down hard across The Doctor's cheek. Then she took his face in both her hands and kissed him full on the mouth.

John's jaw fell. The Counsellor hated The Doctor; he thought he was pretty solid on that front. He'd seen her thoughts, her unfiltered, unprotected thoughts. But . . .maybe it was a front. Maybe she'd been telling him what he wanted to hear. She had been flirting with him, and it was never a secret that John responded to flirty females. Maybe The Morrigan was right; The Counsellor replicated parts of peoples' personalities in order to win them over. She'd told him herself that she'd gone up against some of the wiliest negotiators in the galaxy. Couldn't be difficult to fool a couple of humans.

John shifted his eyes to Sherlock's. The man was hiding his thoughts behind a stone mask of impassivity, but John could feel the burning confusion and the beginnings of pain surging through that tall, lanky frame.

I told you not to hurt him! John hurled this thought at The Counsellor. He saw her flinch.

"So, Counsellor, if this was up to you, who would you choose?" The Morrigan asked.

The Counsellor pulled away from the kiss with a loud smack. "Three bullets," she said. "Only one of us lives."

The Morrigan gave her a small nod. "Yes."

"Then what is this artifice about choice?"

"Do you think you're exempted a bullet? One of the bullets would take you too, unless you choose yourself."

"I volunteer."

Four pairs of eyes swiveled to John Watson.

"Excuse me?" The Morrigan asked him.

He shuddered. "I'm not a good man. I betrayed my wife – nothing so common as cheating on her, but I wasn't good to her. I denied her the emotional comfort she craved right when she needed it most. So . . .kill me. I'm not worth the saving."

"Don't be ridiculous," Sherlock said. His voice was deeper than usual.

John smiled nervously at him. His veins were full of ice. "Come now, Sherlock. Did you think it would be the three of us frolicking through the universe? I'm the least useful person here. You're needed. You need her. And he –" John turned to look at The Doctor, who was looking back at him like he was some fascinating species of flying horse. "Well, I'm sure he's done a lot of really amazing things for Queen and Country." He switched his attention back to The Counsellor. "You don't have to be the last. And you don't have to have revenge. Just . . .let it go."

"You're talking as though your death is the only one I require," The Morrigan said. "Three bullets. I get three lives. And honestly, it's not as though that will make up for losing my other half."

The Counsellor turned to her. "Why do you still blame me for that? I did nothing wrong."

"No? Maybe your memory is different from mine. You were seen with my mate during that summit on Rigel Six. After his conversation with you – and without so much as a See you later, sweetheart to me – he got into a matter reconstruction pod and had himself transported into the flaming heart of Rigel."

"And that's all you know about it."

"What else do I need to know about it? The coordinates were clear on the pod. He shot himself into the center of a star, and all because you put some sort of mind curse on him."

"What was the motivation?" Sherlock asked. John turned his attention to him. He'd come back to himself, and his cunning was shining in his eyes.

"What?" The Morrigan snapped.

"Motive. Why would she talk your mate into committing suicide? How would that benefit her?"

"Why do people do anything?" The Morrigan asked. "Maybe she was tired of being ignored by her own husband and wanted to break up the most significant union at the summit. Maybe she was just bored. Who knows?"

"Don't you think it's important?"

"I don't care why anybody does anything. I only care about revenge. If The Counsellor had been serious about revenge, then she would have been consumed by it, so much so that she would never, ever have developed any attachments while seeking its consummation. Doesn't that make you wonder about everything she's told you, Mr. Holmes?"

He smiled. "Not at all."

She bared her teeth. "Why the hell am I asking you anything?"

"I volunteer."

All eyes swiveled towards The Doctor. He shrugged. "I'm not happy. I'm alone. I turned my back on my wife and my world, then came here – somehow forgetting that everyone I'd ever meet would die long before I would." He sighed deeply. "I tried to give them their lives back, those friends of mine. Seems I'm not so good at that. I've ruined lives. Perhaps you should stop me before I do it again."

The Morrigan drew closer to him. She brought her blade – dark red and sinister – up against his neck. "You know the bullet would start your regeneration," she purred in his ear. When he nodded, she added, "And then I'd lop your head off."

"Fine."

"Then me."

John gaped at Sherlock. "What did you just say?"

Sherlock gave him a tight-lipped smile. "What? Did you think I'd be glad to be without you again?"

"Sherlock –"

"John, it's my life. I'll end it as I see fit."

The Morrigan giggled delightedly at the look on The Counsellor's face: Horror.