One final chapter for you lovely readers ^^ Thank you for sticking with me this long!

Celestial Glowhead - You've been so kind throughout this story. You've reviewed nearly ever chapter and I honestly couldn't be happier. You've provided such amazing insight regarding my writing. Thank you so much for taking this journey with me and leaving such kind and supportive words! And regarding your predictions, you'll just have to find out ;) Also, Thor: Ragnarok and Black Panther were both great, you've gotta see them! :D

When Mrs. Tilshock answered the door and found the same man on her doorstep as a few months ago (although this time with several strangely dressed friends) she was less than pleased. Her eyes narrowed as she stared Sherlock down. "You again…"

Sherlock offered her, yet again, a false smile. "Yes, it's me again."

Mrs. Tilshock poked her head back into the house. "Grant! Someone's here for you!"

She stepped aside as the sound of running footsteps got closer. Grant appeared in the doorway, quite disheveled. His eyes went wide when he saw everyone standing beside Sherlock. "Uhh…thanks Mum." Mrs. Tilshock gave everyone a suspicious look before stepping back inside. Grant closed the door behind his mother and turned back to the guests on his porch.

"So…I'm assuming everything's terrible?"

"If you've seen the news you could guess as much," said Clint.

"We've taken care of the telekinetics," said Sherlock, "but the director of the organization in charge of this attack is a problem we have yet to solve. We were hoping you could help us."

"M-Me?" Grant stuttered. "But I…I can't—"

"We don't need you to fight, we just need you to do some power transferring."

Grant looked relieved. "Oh. Right. Yeah, I can do that." Sherlock rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath. "So what do you need?"

"Matt here," the detective said, gesturing to Matt, "has the strength necessary to defeat Director Williams, however, he's not trained enough to use them properly. But John is."

John looked over at his friend. "We never actually agreed it would be me. Agent Barton is better trained than I am."

"But if something goes south we need Barton on arrow duty since bullets won't take Williams down."

John let out a long-suffering sigh and hung his head. "You planned this from the beginning…"

"Well of course I did," said Sherlock, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Grant nodded. "Well, yeah, I can do whatever. You have it all figured out?"

John shot his flatmate a look. "Yes," he answered, "we have it figured out."

Grant nodded. "Alright then." Stephen, Sherlock, and Clint stepped back. They had opted to leave Taria and Vi with Lestrade while SHIELD came to pick them up and take them to their London medical base. "From you to you?" Grant asked, pointing at Matt then John. The others nodded. "Alright."

Grant took Matt's arm in one hand and John's in the other. The effect was instant. Matt lost all energy and his legs gave out from under him. Clint caught the young man before he hit the ground. John on the other hand stumbled back with the burst of energy he was given, nearly toppling into Sherlock. Grant grimaced. "You good?"

Matt waved Clint off, steadying himself. "Yeah, we're fine." John nodded along.

"Did it work?" Grant asked.

Matt looked down at the metal rails lining the stairs leading up to the house. He grabbed in and pushed. Nothing happened. All eyes turned to John. The doctor shook his head, backing up. "I am not destroying his house, thank you."

Matt stared down at his hands. "It's gone." The others turned to look at him.

"Yes, that is how it works," said Sherlock. "Don't worry; John will return your abilities after we stop Williams."

He turned but Matt spoke up again. "I don't want them back." Sherlock slowly turned back around.

John looked panicked. "What? Well I don't want them! They aren't mine!"

"They aren't mine either!" Matt retorted. "They were never supposed to be mine! I'm a copy, Doctor Watson. This," he pointed to himself, "is normal." He gestured John up and down. "Not that!"

"Settle down," ordered Clint. The others fell silent. "Right now we focus on stopping Williams. We will fight this out later." He offered a glare to Matt, who gave one right back. He turned to Grant. "Thank you for your help."

He smiled. "No problem. And good luck." The others were about to leave when he remembered. "Oh!" They halted. "And…are you Hawkeye?"

Clint smiled kindly. "I am indeed."

"Could I…Could I get a picture? Please?"

Clint shrugged. "Eh, why the heck not."

Grant smiled widely and pulled out his phone. He ran straight over to Clint, quickly snapping a picture. He pocketed the phone and turned back around. "Thank you!"

Sherlock let out an impatient sigh. "Now that we've got that over with, let's get on with what we're here to do."

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It was as if Williams was waiting for them. He stood casually in Hyde Park, just…waiting. A couple of SHIELD agents had attempted to approach but had been unsuccessful. He wanted them. Williams got his wish as John came into view. He offered a sardonic smile. "How nice of you to join me, Doctor Watson," he said. He cocked his head. "Where are your friends?"

"Safe," John said.

"So it's just you?"

"Yes." That, of course, was a lie. Clint was positioned across the street, ready to take any shots necessary. Sherlock and Stephen were with him. They had left Matt under the watchful eye of some SHIELD agents, not wanting the kid to make a run for it.

Williams nodded slowly, trying to guess what he was playing at. "And why did you decide to make the stupid decision of coming alone?"

John began to approach the SIP director. "Because I don't want anyone else to get hurt. I understand what you're trying to do, really, I do, but you're putting innocent lives in danger."

Williams scoffed. "Hardly innocent. They hate and fear anyone unlike themselves."

John shook his head. "That's not true. There are countless people who do not view inhumans as monsters. There are people dedicated to pretty much what you do, just in a less violent manner."

"Oh, like SHIELD? I'm fully aware of their true intentions. They're selfish – thinking only of themselves. So if you work for them, what does that make you?" John and Williams were face-to-face, tensions were high. "Why must you waste your life working for an organization so…" Williams curled his hand into a fist, trying to find the right word. "…fragile?"

Williams threw a punch. Having seen the signs, John effectively dodged out of the way. The doctor took a swing himself, hitting William's straight in the gut. The director had not anticipated the blow being so powerful. He stumbled backwards and coughed. He looked back up at John, doubled over. "…What?"

John shrugged. "I figured it should be a fair fight."

A grin slowly spread across the director's face. "What kind of mutants do you know? Can you introduce me?" In response, John threw another punch. Williams grabbed his wrist before John's fist made contact, tightening his grip. John gritted his teeth, trying not to let the searing pain distract him. He lashed out with a kick, sending Williams flying across the ground and tearing up the grass.

Williams was thrown off for a moment, but quickly regained his composure. He smiled sickly as he got to his feet. "You're a pretty good fighter, Doctor."

"People tend to forget," said John, walking over to Williams "that I was an army doctor." Williams grit his teeth and sent several hits John's way. The doctor tried to keep up, but after not fighting like this in so long, he fell behind. He went sprawling across the grass, dizzy as he tried to regain his footing.

John felt a strong hand on his bad shoulder and he was lifted to his feet. Williams dug his fingers into John's shoulder and the army vet let out a pained yell. "Hit a soft spot, did I?" Williams drove John back onto the ground, hand still curled around his shoulder.

John grit his teeth, trying to bite back the pain. He kicked wildly, trying to get in any kind of hit. John managed to kick Williams's kneecap and the director fell. John stumbled blindly to his feet, disoriented from the pain. Williams ran at the doctor, but John deflected the attack, pulling Williams into an immobilizing hold. The director struggled (quite impressively) but John kept his grip.

John heard some screams and looked up. A SIP agent was approaching, Grant in his grasp. The kid struggled, trying to pull himself away, but he was no match for the agent. The SIP agent pulled out a gun, holding it to Grant's head. "Doctor Watson, I suggest you release Director Williams this instant." He cocked the gun and Grant's frantic screams turned into whimpers. "That is, unless you want this kid's blood on your hands." He looked down at Grant. "He's a friend, I take it? A mutant?"

John hesitated. He glanced quickly down at Director Williams, then back up at Grant. The kid was absolutely terrified. His legs had gone out from under him and he was just about being dragged along by the SIP agent. "You and your friends really ought to work on stealth – you're just too easy to track."

Perhaps Agent Barton would intervene – stop the agent before he hurt Grant. But after what happened with Taria…John considered it unlikely.

But it was worth the risk.

John looked in the direction of Clint, trying to give him a cue. This, however, did not go unnoticed by the SIP agent. The agent threw Grant onto the ground, aimed, and shot.

Everything happened so fast, it took John a moment to process what happened. He yelled, twisted his arms which resulted in a loud crack, and ran at the agent. Before he reached the SIP agent an arrow lodged itself inside of the man. The agent fell to the ground with a groan. John landed on his knees next to Grant and scooped the kid up. "No, no, no, no, no." The kid was limp and lifeless in the doctor's arms. John didn't even realize Stephen, Clint, and Sherlock appear next to him. "No, kid, come on, no, no, don't do this. Come on, Grant!"

"John." Sherlock knelt down next to his flatmate. John didn't even notice him; he just kept trying to find a way to fix what had happened and muttering under his breath. "John, look at me." Sherlock placed a hand on John's shoulder. The doctor flinched but didn't turn around. "John, look at me." Slowly, John turned around and looked up at his flatmate. "You're okay – it's okay."

Sherlock watched as his friend's expression changed. He realized a little too late that 'it's okay' probably wasn't the best thing to say. "No," said John in a dangerous voice, "it's not okay." He got to his feet, staring at his flatmate. "It's not okay! He's dead, Sherlock!" He looked down at Grant and frantically ran his blood-covered hands through his hair. "You don't care! You really don't care, do you? He's dead, Sherlock, and all you can say is 'it's okay?!'" He shoved the detective and Sherlock went skidding a good ways across the grass.

John halted. He watched as Sherlock struggled to get to his feet. In his peripheral vision he saw Stephen take a step back and Clint tighten his grip on his bow. After a moment Clint walked over to Sherlock and offered him a hand. "You good?"

The detective nodded as he got to his feet. "Fine. I'm fine." All eyes turned to John.

John was silent as he stole a glance down at his hands. They were red, far too red. He vaguely heard Clint talking into his earpiece. "Yes, sir, a hostage situation. One casualty…Yes, he was a mutant. Director Williams has been neutralized."

Director Williams. John had forgotten all about him. He turned around and saw the man's lifeless body not far behind him, his head at an awkward angle. It was only then he realized what he'd done.

Sherlock noticed the look on his flatmate's face and took both of John's shoulders in hand, turning him back around and away from both the bodies. "John, just look at me, alright?"

"I killed him."

"That's not important, John."

"But I did it with my bare hands…"

Sherlock looked at the others. They were equally concerned and at a loss. "Like I said, it's not important right now. We'll figure it out – we always do."

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The day was ending and Sherlock, John, and Stephen were back at Baker Street. Clint had reported back to SHIELD and told the others to expect a debriefing soon. Nobody had said a word regarding John's power predicament – no one was sure what to even say. Sherlock had since showered and changed back into his regular clothes, taking to pacing about the flat. John, however, hadn't moved from his armchair once. He was still in his SHIELD uniform and there was still evidence of Grant's blood on him.

The sound of footsteps caused everyone to turn towards the threshold. There Director Fury himself came into view. Sherlock nodded respectfully. "Director."

"Holmes." He looked over at Stephen, who was seated on the couch. "You must be Doctor Strange."

Stephen got to his feet. "That'd be me."

"Agent Barton gave me a brief synopsis of your situation. How soon can you return to your reality?"

"Hopefully as soon as I get my hands on the right book."

"Then as much as a help you've been, you should get to it – can't have you involving yourself in dimensions you don't belong in."

Stephen paused. He looked over at Sherlock, who was silent and still. Stephen sighed. "Fair enough." He walked over to the detective and offered his hand. "It's been fun, Holmes."

Sherlock accepted the handshake. "Take care, Doctor Strange."

Stephen walked over to John, who stood to meet him. The two of them shook hands. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Doctor Watson."

"And you too," John said softly, quickly looking away.

The others shared a look. Stephen cleared his throat. "Guess I'll be off to Kamar-Taj then. Hopefully they'll have the book I need." He looked towards Sherlock. "Perhaps I'll come back, you know, just to visit." By the tone of the surgeon's voice everyone knew that would be unlikely. "Good luck. And thanks." And with that he stepped through a whirl of light.

Once the sorcerer had left, Fury began to walk about the room. "I expect you to include everything you know about him in your reports."

"Of course," John said softly.

"What are you doing here, Director?" Sherlock questioned. "This is awfully informal for a debriefing."

"Well I'm not exactly here for a debriefing." He looked over at John. "I just have a few things to discuss."

"There's nothing that can't be discussed in our debriefing and reports, Director Fury," Sherlock insisted.

"I do believe some of these things shouldn't wait." He looked over at John. "Rumor has it you got a little something from taking down Williams, Doctor Watson."

"I got a lot of experience, that's for sure," John said flatly.

Fury began to pace again. "I was thinking of something a little more…impactful." He paused and clasped his hands behind his back. "As much as I respect your business as your own, Agent, what happened happened during an ordered mission, thus makes it our business. Are they the exact powers of Director Williams?"

"Yes, sir."

Fury shook his head. "Purposefully not reporting an event like this is typically punished with suspension. However, due to the…delicacy of the situation, I don't believe that would be the appropriate course of action. You are report to SHIELD's London headquarters every Saturday at nine a.m. sharp until we find a way to reverse this."

"There isn't," John said. Fury raised an eyebrow. "There…There isn't a way to reverse this. The kid who did this…he…he's dead. He was the hostage shot by the SIP agent. He would have been able to reverse this, but he's…he's gone."

Fury nodded. "Very well then. You are still to report to London headquarters."

"Of course, sir."

Fury turned to leave, but Sherlock spoke up. "Have you heard anything about David Parson, Director? He was the psychic navigator inside of SIP. He said he'd escaped."

Fury paused. "We found his body not far outside of Brighton a few days ago." Sherlock nodded, processing the information. Fury looked between the doctor and the detective. "Goodnight, Holmes." He nodded at John. "Watson." And with that, he left.

Sherlock stared at his flatmate in silence. Eventually, he opened his mouth but John shook his head. "What do we do, Sherlock?"

The detective paused. "Exactly what Director Fury said."

John looked at his friend in question. "You're actually following orders? Now I know something's wrong."

Sherlock walked across the room. "John, nothing's wrong. I just understand what needs to happen in this situation. I realize that SHIELD has the best resources to deal with this…" he chose his words carefully, "…development, and we are to take advantage of that."

John lowered himself back into his chair, the same blank look on his face as when he'd held Grant's body. Sherlock had seen shock first-hand and this…this wasn't shock. At least, not completely – there was something else. "Sherlock, he's dead."

Sherlock lowered his head. "Yes. But there's nothing we can do about it now."

"Sherlock, he…god, he was just a kid…" John looked back up at his flatmate, pain in his eyes. "He didn't deserve that. He was supposed to be safe; he wasn't supposed to be there."

Sherlock knelt down in front of John. "But he did not die in vain. The agent responsible for his death has been taken care of and SIP is crumbling without their director and their mutants."

"I killed him too," John said softly. "I killed Director Williams."

Sherlock tilted his head. "Well it's not like he didn't deserve it after all he's done."

"That's not the point, Sherlock. I-I didn't even mean to do it." Sherlock was admittedly a bit surprised by that. "I just…I was so angry. I was scared. I didn't even realize I had done it." John shook his head. "Sherlock, I can't…I can't control—"

"Then you'll learn to. If we can't get rid of it, we'll learn to live with it. Better you to have these powers than Director Williams." That actually got a brief smile from John. Sherlock got back to his feet. "Clean yourself up and get some rest, John. You have your first SHIELD appointment tomorrow." John chuckled as he got to his feet. "You think they'll have you consult with the Avengers?"

John visibly blanched at the question. "What? Uh, no. No way, I-I'm not." He shook his head. "I hardly want to get involved with that lot after everything that happened with the Sakovia Accords."

"Well you've managed to deal with me this long; you could handle a few unruly superheroes no problem."

John grinned. "Damn right, I could." He shrugged. "But I'd take dealing with you over a pissed off Avenger any day." Sherlock grinned back as John made his way up to his room.

There it is folks! This story of mine has come to an end. But if you still crave my writing and want to see more of super-powered John, stay tuned for my sequel: Gasoline.