In 221B Sherlock is sitting in his armchair with his feet up on the seat and his arms folded tightly around him, trying to conserve heat. The pink phone is on the arm of the chair. John is sitting at the dining table, typing on his laptop. Ophelia was sitting on the other arm chair while she had a blanket over her since the windows were still not fixed from the explosion. As the audience boos noisily, Sherlock yells indignantly at the telly, "No, no, no! Of course he's not the boy's father! Look at the turn-ups on his jeans!"

Sighing, he folds his arms again. John, who has looked round to see what Sherlock is protesting about, gets back to his typing.

"Knew it was dangerous."

"Hmm."

"Getting you into crap telly."

"It wasn't really my idea," Sherlock replied as he looks at Ophelia.

"Don't look at me! You said you wanted to have some bonding time with me and you said yes," Ophelia reminds him.

"Have you given Mycroft the memory stick yet?" John interrupts them.

Sherlock nods, "Yep. He was over the moon. Threatened me with a knighthood… again."

"You know, I'm still waiting."

Sherlock raised a brow, "Hmm?"

"For you to admit that a little knowledge of the solar system and you'd have cleared up the fake painting a lot quicker."

"Didn't do you any good, did it?" Sherlock points out.

"No, but I'm not the world's only consulting detective."

Sherlock smirks, "True."

"Bye, dad!" said Ophelia as she got up from her seat and put on her coat.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm supposed to sleep over at Emma's remember?"

"No."

Ophelia sighs as she put on her backpack, "Why am I not surprised."

"Why don't I go with you since I'm going out also," said John as he shuts down his computer.

"You too?" Sherlock asks.

"Yep, I won't be in for tea. I'm going to Sarah's. There's still some of that risotto left in the fridge," said John as he got up from his seat.

"Mmmm."

John stops at the door, "Uh, milk. We need milk."

"I'll get some."

Both John and Ophelia turned around and looked at Sherlock with disbelief.

"What?"

"Really?"

Sherlock nods, "Really."

"And some beans, then?" John added.

"Mmm," said Sherlock without looking away from the telly.

John hesitates, still surprised, but then nods and walks away.

"Bye, daddy," Ophelia waves.

Sherlock smiles up at her "See you tomorrow."

"Okay," Ophelia smiles back and walks away. Sherlock continues to gaze at the TV until he hears the downstairs door open and close, then he picks up his computer notebook. Placing it on his lap and opening the lid, he stares at the message box on his website before starting to type.

Found. The Bruce-Partington plans. Please collect. The Pool. Midnight.

….

Sherlock opens the door leading into an indoor swimming pool. The lights are on but there is nobody else was there except Sherlock. He walks in slowly towards the shallow end of the pool. He stops at the edge of the pool and turns. Finally he turns towards the pool again, raising one hand and holding up the memory stick.

"Brought you a little getting-to-know-you present. Oh, that's what it's all been for, hasn't it? All your little puzzles; making me dance all to distract me from this," Sherlock said loudly as he gestures with the memory stick. A door opens halfway down the room. Sherlock looks over his. And John Watson walks through the door and into the pool area, wrapped snugly in a hooded jacket while he dragged Ophelia in front of him as he put a gun to the side of her head. He turns and looks at Sherlock as the detective stares back at them in absolute shock.

"Ophelia?"

"Daddy," Ophelia sobs as she struggles to get away from John.

"Evening."

Sherlock's hand begins to lower slowly, still staring over his shoulder in utter disbelief. Everything made sense now… It was easy for John to kidnapped Ophelia when he visited Isabella at the prison cell. Sherlock looks at John clothing and it was the same clothing Ophelia describe about her kidnapper: A short masked man wearing a green jacket.* But he still couldn't believe John, his best friend, would do this to him.

"This is a turn-up, isn't it, Sherlock?"

"John. What the hell ...?"

"Daddy, please!" Ophelia continues to sob.

"Shut up!" John raised his voice.

"Don't hurt her!" Sherlock raised his hand to stop him.

"Bet you never saw this coming."

John takes his hands from Ophelia and opens his jacket to reveal the bomb strapped to his chest. A sniper's laser immediately begins to dance around over the bomb.

"What ... would you like me ... to make him say ... next?"

Ophelia ran towards her father and hide behinds him as she wrap her arms around his waist, "Daddy, it's all a trap," she whispers.

"I know," Sherlock replies without taking his eyes off the bomb.

"Gottle o' gear ... gottle o' gear ... gottle o' gear."

"Stop it," Sherlock demands.

"Nice touch, this: the pool where little Carl died. I stopped him. I can stop John Watson too. Stop his heart," said John as he looks down at the laser.

"Daddy, you have to save him," Ophelia sobs.

"Who are you?"

A door opens at the far end of the pool and a soft male voice speaks from that direction, "I gave you my number. I thought you might call."

Sherlock turns towards the new arrival. With his hands in his pockets, he casually begins to stroll alongside the deep end of the pool, heading towards Sherlock, Ophelia, and John

"Is that British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket ... or are you just pleased to see me?"

Sherlock raises the pistol and aims it towards Jim, "Both."

Jim stops and looks back at him without showing any emotions, "Jim Moriarty. Hi!"

"Jim? Jim from the hospital?" He begins to walk alongside the deep end again

"Oh. Did I really make such a fleeting impression? But then, I suppose, that was rather the point."

He turns to face Sherlock just as the sniper's laser flickers over John's upper chest. Sherlock briefly turns his head towards John, a curious look on his face, "Don't be silly. Someone else is holding the rifle. I don't like getting my hands dirty. I've given you a glimpse, Sherlock, just a teensy glimpse of what I've got going on out there in the big bad world. I'm a specialist, you see ... like you."

""Dear Jim. Please will you fix it for me to get rid of my lover's nasty sister?""Dear Jim. Please will you fix it for me to disappear to South America?""

Moriarty stops, "Just so."

"Consulting criminal," Sherlock smirks, "Brilliant."

Moriarty smiles proudly, "Isn't it? No-one ever gets to me and no one ever will."

"I did," Sherlock points out.

"You've come the closest. Now you're in my way."

"Thank you,"

Ophelia looks up at her dad with confusion, "What?"

"Didn't mean it as a compliment."

"Yes, you did."

Moriarty shrugs, "Yeah, okay, I did. But the flirting's over, Sherlock… Daddy's had enough now! Oh wait you are a daddy aren't you?"

Moriarty walks up to him closer, "I've shown you what I can do. I cut lose all those people, all those little problems, even thirty million quid just to get you to come out and play. So take this as a friendly warning, my dear. Back off. Although I have loved this… this little game of ours. Playing Jim from I.T. Playing gay. Did you like the little touch with the underwear?"

"Poor Molly," Ophelia whispers.

Moriarty rolls his eyes, "She wasn't that important to you than I thought."

Sherlock ignores his comment, "People have died."

"That's what people DO!" Moriarty yells at him furiously.

Ophelia buries her face on Sherlock legs, "Daddy, I'm scared… I want to go home."

"Ah~ isn't she cute? No wonder you still kept her."

"I will stop you," Sherlock says softly.

"No, you won't."

Sherlock looks across from John, "Are you alright?"

John deliberately keeps his gaze away from his friend. Jim walks forward again and reaches his side.

"You can talk, Johnny-boy. Go ahead."

Refusing to specifically obey Jim's orders, John meets Sherlock's eyes and nods once. Sherlock takes one hand off the pistol and holds out the memory stick towards Jim, "Take it."

"Huh? Oh! That!" He strolls past John and reaches out for the stick, grinning, "The missile plans!"

He takes the stick from Sherlock's fingers and brings it to his mouth, kissing it. Jim lowers the memory stick and looks at it, "Boring! I could have got them anywhere. "

He nonchalantly tosses the stick into the pool. Seeing his opportunity, John races forward and slams himself up against Jim's back, wrapping one arm around his neck and the other around his chest. Sherlock backs up a step in surprise but keeps the pistol raised and aimed at Jim.

"Sherlock! Ophelia! Run!" John demands.

Moriarty laughs, "Good! Very good."

"If your sniper pulls that trigger, Mr. Moriarty, then we both go up."

"John, no!" Ophelia cries.

"Ophelia, get out of here!" Sherlock orders her.

Ophelia shook her head, "I won't leave you Daddy!"

"Aren't they sweet? I can see why you like having them around. But then people do get so sentimental about their pets. They're so touchingly loyal. But, oops!" He looks at John briefly than turns to Sherlock, "You've rather shown your hand there, Doctor Watson." He chuckles as a new laser point appears in the middle of Sherlock's forehead and Ophelia's heart. John stares in horror as Jim looks round at him expectantly. Sherlock, either seeing the edge of the laser beam shining from the gallery or realizing what's happening from John's expression, shakes his head slightly.

"Gotcha!"

He chuckles as John releases his grip on him and steps back, holding his hands up to signal to the sniper that he won't be trying anything else. Jim glances round at him, and then turns back towards Sherlock while brushing his hands down his suit to straighten it. He gestures to it indignantly, "Westwood."

Moriarty lower his hands, "Do you know what happens if you don't leave me alone, Sherlock, to you?"

"Oh, let me guess…I get killed," said Sherlock sounding bored.

Moriarty looks at him with surprised, "Kill you? N-no, don't be obvious. I mean, I'm going to kill you anyway someday. I don't want to rush it, though. I'm saving it up for something special. No-no-no-no-no. If you don't stop prying, I'll burn you. I'll burn the heart out of you."

"I have been reliably informed that I don't have one," Sherlock said softly.

"But we both know that's not quite true."

Sherlock blinks involuntarily. Jim looks down smiling at Ophelia, "Your heart is in this room."

Moriarty shrugs, "Well, I'd better be off. Well, so nice to have had a proper chat."

Sherlock raised his pistol higher, "What if I was to shoot you now… right now?"

"Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face," he opens his eyes and mouth wide, mimicking surprise, then grins at Sherlock, "Cause I'd be surprised, Sherlock; really I would. And just a teensy bit disappointed. And of course you wouldn't be able to cherish it for very long."

"Ciao, Sherlock Holmes," said Moriarty as he turns around and walks away.

"Catch ... you ... later," Sherlock said coldly.

"No, you won't."

The door closes. Sherlock doesn't move for a few seconds, his gun still aimed towards the door, then his gaze drifts across to John and he instantly bends, putting the pistol on the floor, then drops to his knees in front of John as he starts unfastening the vest to which the bomb is attached.

"All right? Are you all right? "

John nods, "Yeah-yeah, I'm fine."

Finally Sherlock manages to roughly strip the jacket and vest off John's arms.

"Sherlock!" John raised his voice.

Sherlock bends and skims the items as far away along the floor as he can. Sherlock turns and stares at him for a moment, then hurries back to pick up the pistol before racing towards the door that Moriarty left through."

"Daddy, don't leave!" Ophelia cried.

"Ophelia, it's okay…" John panted.

Ophelia nods as she sits on the cold floor and rests her back on the wall. Sherlock comes back in, having apparently seen no sign of Moriarty outside. He starts to pace up and down near John, so hyper and distracted that he doesn't even realize that he is scratching his head with the business end of a loaded and cocked pistol.

"Are you alright?" John asks.

"Me? Yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine. Fine."

Sherlock turns to John, "That, er ... thing that you, er, that you did; that, um ... you offered to do. That was, um ... good.

"You were brave John," Ophelia gives him a weak smile.

"Thanks. I'm glad no-one saw that."

Sherlock looks down at him with confusion, "Hmmm?"

"You, ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People might talk."

"People do little else."

He looks down at John, and then grins. John snorts laughter.

"Daddy, I'm bleeding!" Ophelia screams.

Sherlock turns around and dash towards Ophelia. He knelt down on his knees and looks at injury on her knee.

"Did he hurt you?" Sherlock asks as he rips the end of his white shirt and place it on her bloody knee.

"He pushed me down the floor really hard, but I'm fine daddy," said Ophelia still sobbing.

Sherlock wrap his arms around her, "You're okay now. You're safe."

"I want to go home daddy," Ophelia whispers.

Sherlock smirks, "Let's go home then."

Sherlock got up from the floor and picks Ophelia up gently. John smiles at the two of them and was ready to join them. But before he can move, the beam from a sniper's laser begins to dance over his chest. John looks down at it and his face fills with horror, "Oh."

"Daddy!" Ophelia screams as she saw the lasers.

A door near the deep end of the pool opens and Jim comes through, clapping his hands together, "Sorry, boys! I'm soooooo changeable! It is a weakness with me but, to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness. You can't be allowed to continue. You just can't. I would try to convince you but, everything I have to say has already crossed your mind!"

Sherlock, who had looked away for a moment, now turns and looks down at John. John responds with a tiny nod, giving him full permission to do whatever he seems necessary.

"Ophelia, hold onto me tight," Sherlock whispers to her.

Ophelia nods and hides her face on his shoulder and wraps her arms around him tightly.

Sherlock turns to face Moriarty, "Probably my answer has crossed yours."

*One of Moriarty men's, who kidnapped Ophelia, was wearing the jacket and Moriarty thought it will be fun to play with Sherlock so he made John wear the jacket.

Next Chapter: Here to meet the Queen?