Disclaimer: as always

It was all arranged. Fury had marshalled the troops, had the 'anti-Hulk' formula replicated on a massive scale and was now waiting for the word go so that he could release the dispersal jets.

Jane and her portal-machine were being kept safe on a stealth craft, hovering just outside the city of London, waiting for the moment that the databases of the enemy were hacked and she might need to open another portal on top of one that was already there.

Nobody was looking forward to finding out if that would work.

After much debate, and Fury's wrath, Loki had been released from his shackles, on the basis that if he did anything uncouth, Thor would hunt him down and drag him back to Asgard by his ears. If that failed, Rose would have his neck.

The Avengers had exchanged silent stares that spoke volumes of how much they hoped that the god's apparent feelings for the woman, and his lingering affections for his home planet would prevent him from ruining everything.

So he, accompanied by Rose, Sherlock, and John, none of whom came across as formidable in any sense, were packed into a jet, which would carry them to a location a mile away from the now well fortified building complex that the Master had taken for his own.

They were dropped off at strategic points outside the city, left to enter and position themselves, cover all bases. Nobody was sure where the mutated people would be released if it got that far. Nobody knew where the portal might tear a whole in the fabric of space. It was all guess-work.

Sherlock had been gracious enough to call his brother, apparently some high-up member of the British government, and the streets were being cleared, people being herded as calmly as possible away from the larger spaces of the city. They couldn't alert anyone, couldn't start a panic, so there were suggestions that people should go the other way, snow warnings in big letters, policemen on corners diverting pedestrians into their homes, 'road closed' signs holding back the traffic. All it left was an eerily quiet city and the occasional rebel wandering aimlessly because they could.

Tony had been the first to leave, letting himself keel over the edge of the jet while it was still in flight, his Iron Man suit glinting in the muted sunlight as it disappeared into the streets of London. People there weren't as accustomed to him as they were in New York. He would have to land as inconspicuously as possible and then hide until needed.

Clint and Natasha had departed within ten minutes of each other, Clint pausing to run the back of his hand through the red curls by her left ear. She had shaken it off with a tense smile, her eyes revealing nothing, and then they had both sprinted as surreptitiously as possible into the city, aiming for high points, from which he could put his greatest asset to use, and she could set up her advanced weaponry, brought out specially for the occasion.

If nothing else, they could shepherd the creatures into one area.

Then the jet had landed and Thor had stepped cautiously from within, taking Donna's hand and helping her to her feet. If the others failed to get Bruce back to their own jet before he panicked in the heat of things, then they were the only two that really stood a chance of stopping him, getting his to safety before the gas that could do what he had failed to do and kill him was released.

The expression on Donna's face meant that nobody had the heart to voice their concerns, to suggest that maybe, she would be safer away from the chaos.

That left Steve, his shoulders squared, his head held high as Captain America tread tensely through the dreary streets, nodding respectfully to the Londoners who, after alien invasions and a spate of bombings, had become familiar enough with danger to know that they should hurry their pace and get inside.

That didn't stop the few that waited in the doorways, their curiosity piqued.

Steve wished that he could tell them to leave, but that might ruin everything. Or it might not. He just didn't know.

And where would the homeless go? Steve entertained that thought for a moment before trailing his eyes over the raggedy men and women that he saw every now and then. Of all the people, they looked the least concerned, as if nothing else in the world could affect them.

He hadn't thought that they'd be on the open streets like this, but he supposed, they could go wherever they liked.

Sighing, making sure to keep scanning the area as he walked through the streets towards the nearest open area, Steve turned on his radio, clicking the earpiece and waiting for the caustic fuzz.

"Tony, what's the story where you are?" he asked, and a few seconds passed before Tony's voice filtered through the technology in his ear.

"Well Cap, I can proudly report that London is very boring when there's no one around – Poirot's bro did a good job."

Steve was too busy fighting the uncertainty creeping up his oesophagus to scold him; it was too quiet. True, this wasn't a huge obstacle; the streets were wide, and the skyline lower than in New York, so even if things did kick off, they wouldn't be at too much of a disadvantage.

"Are you sure you can't see anything suspicious that we can nip in the bud?" asked, hoping that anyone on the channel might step in with good news.

"Nope." Tony chirped, though Steve could just about hear the trepidation in his tone, "Just a few homeless guys hanging around."

"Same here," Clint's slurring tones rippled into Steve's ear; Steve emerged from the side-street he had darted down and into the wide square, "I've taken up position on the highest building I could find – the streets are mostly clear, and people are moving away quickly – all but the homeless, and they seem to be bunching up more to the East than the West."

"I've got an estate in the West covered, and there're barely any homeless here – they're mostly hiding though, not out in the open like yours." Natasha added; Steve took up his position, partially hidden in the shade of a wide stone building.

"No need to sound so bored Romanov." Tony snarked, and Natasha shot back a snippy retort before Steve could get them back in line.

"Keep the channel clear unless you have something important to share." He instructed; the silence seemed to ring off the stone walls around him did nothing to help the ominous foreboding that overtook him.

When Loki had tried to take over, it was loud. It was boastful and flashy, and there was no doubting where they had to take the fight. The Master had barely made a sound; this wasn't for glory, or pride, this was all in honour of his own destructive streak. And Steve had no idea where or when things were going to blow up in their faces, like a volcano that had grown and tensed before vomiting its deadly cargo.

He decided to check in on Thor, who wouldn't use his radio unless prompted.

"Thor, how's Donna?" he asked, and a clunking echoed down the radio.

"She is anxious, but I have stationed us in an open space with plenty of cover, as near to the river and the enemies base of operations as possible." Thor replied, and Steve was momentarily cheered as Donna's insistence that she wasn't anxious were picked up by the microphone, "I must add, Captain, that there is something in the air that does not bode well."

"Well, we always knew that everything could go wrong." Was all that Steve could say. When there was no retort from any of the team, he returned to his silent vigil .

Getting into the building complex was easier than Sherlock had expected. True, the alarms had to be disabled, and the locks picked, but that was child's-play; it didn't take longer than ten minutes, and no matter what Rose said, Sherlock refused to admit that it would have taken half the time had Loki done more than just lean against the doorframes and examine his nails.

He had expected there to be guards around. John had pushed the three of them behind him and entered the complex first, his gun held aloft, but his form had slackened in shock when they were met with an empty hall.

The lights were dimmed, and once the fire-door was allowed to swing shut behind them, nobody moved, all of them inhaling slowly as they were cloaked in choking blue shadows. Sherlock wanted to move on, but the thought of who was lurking somewhere within made his feet stay put, regardless of what he brain was screaming.

Neither Rose nor John seemed willing to venture forward, but Sherlock saw out of the corner of his eye that they were poised as if ready to strike whatever might leap out at them.

It was too quiet; too still.

"Are you so pathetic that you cannot face what is within?" Loki's weary drawl broke the silence, and Sherlock felt John flinch beside him. It was enough to get his mental faculties running at full speed and push him into action.

"The others are expecting us to check in with them soon," he recapped, striding away from the group and turning to address them; there was clearly no one of importance left within, he could move unguarded (not to say that there wouldn't be a few – there was no reason that the leaders of the plot would have departed for the battlefield), "We can get more done if we split into pairs and tackle a problem each."

John nodded swiftly and moved to stand beside him, "Right, so you and me will go after the databases and try to stop this machine – Rose you can take Loki and get Bruce and the Doctor out."

Rose grinned wickedly and adjusted her coat, making to slip her arm through Loki's, who was eyeing the detective with an unreadable glint in his eyes. Sherlock was confident that the god understood the situation as well as he did.

"Come on Loki – we'll see you guys later." Rose instructed, but Loki didn't move when the pressure on his arm increased, causing her to stumble and back-track.

Sherlock decided to set things straight and stop wasting time, "John, you accompany Rose to find the prisoners, Loki can come with me." He announced, earning a quirk of Loki's eyebrow and a contortion of bewilderment on Rose's.

There was a rustle of fabric as John turned quickly and look up at the detective, and Sherlock tried to ignore the disappointment in his eyes.

"What? What are you doing Sherlock?" the doctor asked quietly, lowering his voice so that the other two didn't overhear. Sherlock didn't use the same courtesy; he needed John to do as he was told, and the only way that would happen would be if the man accepted what little he was given and felt pressured by the already made decision.

"This is an important mission John, we can't have personal feelings distracting any of us," Sherlock explained, lying through his teeth and raising his eyes so that he could glare pointedly at Rose, "The best thing would be for you to help Rose remove Bruce and the Doctor – a friendly face will be far more welcome than either Loki or myself."

Rose ran her eyes over Loki's face, scanning his expression for any indication that he held an opinion regarding the suggestion; he didn't react, and his green eyes were still piercing the detective as if trying to wrench open his mind from afar.

"I don't know…" Rose mumbled, looking cautiously away from Loki and down the vacant halls either side of them; they had been standing around for too long now, and it would become dangerous if they stayed much longer.

"Sherlock, just stop mucking around-" John hissed; the scenery did nothing to calm his nerves, and Sherlock knew that he had been relying upon being at his side for the entire mission, for comfort or to protect him he wasn't sure.

Sherlock tore his eyes away from John's and met Loki's gaze, wordlessly pleading with him.

"I agree with Sherlock." Loki interrupted Rose's attempt at a compromise, and both she and John stared at him in open suspicion; the god shrugged his shoulders and looked down at the two of them, "I shall accompany him." He swept past John, who stumbled back and grunted indignantly, "After all, I am the only one here with true knowledge of this machine that you wish to disable."

Rose didn't say anything, but her lips were pursed; Sherlock prayed that she didn't try to argue. It was too much to ask that John did the same, so he attempted to move on before he was given the chance.

"Now that that's sorted, we have to go. Now!" Sherlock ordered, "The schematics show that the most likely place for them to be held is in that direction," he pointed towards the halls on the far left, before turning on his heel, pushing at Loki's back to try and rush him in the opposite direction, calling over his shoulder, "We'll see you on the jet!".

John's voice reverberated off the walls as Sherlock managed to get Loki to move (sneering down at the man and wrenching his limbs out of his reach as he strode ahead).

"Don't do anything reckless, Sherlock! I will find out about it!"

Sherlock, against his better judgement, stumbled to a momentary halt and shot John a swift, fake smile which left only a worried, blanched face behind him. A pounding of footfalls made him stop again, but this time Rose darted past him, a blur of blue and yellow, grasping at Loki's arm and pulling him to face her.

"You behave alright." He heard her mutter, and Loki scoffed, turning his face away, his eyes lingering on her face. With a sigh, Rose released his sleeves and returned to John's side. The two of them disappeared from sight as John shook his head and ushered her away, his posture stiffened to that of a soldier in a matter of moments.

Sherlock was left alone with Loki, who to his slight trepidation, was watching him again, his expression indecipherable save for the smug smirk that adorned his lips and the almost malicious glint in his eyes.

Without a word, Sherlock started walking as quickly as possible through the hushed halls; he heard more than saw Loki following beside him, and then stepping in front, pushing him to a stop with a hand on his chest. The god loomed over him.

"Tell me mortal why you truly wished me to accompany you."

Sherlock decided that it wouldn't be helpful to tear the god to pieces for talking down to him, but that didn't mean that he would allow himself to be intimidated.

"Are my previously given reasons not enough?" he remarked tensely. Loki chuckled darkly and shook his head as one would to a child.

"Believe me Sherlock, I know when someone lies, and I know when I am being used." His tone was dangerous but playful, and Sherlock wanted to go, he needed to get a move on before it was too late.

"You also know exactly what I want." Sherlock replied, his jaw tensing as he maintained eye contact, "And I know that you are the only person who would allow me to go through with it."

Loki's smirk morphed into a dark smile, which took over his face. He removed his hand from Sherlock's chest and motioned that he was free to pass.

"I see…then let us continue." He drawled, "I have no qualms with allowing you to go after this 'Moriarty'."

Rose was able to phase out while they made their way through the complex. The halls were deserted (and if this didn't seem eerily familiar…), but John was being as quiet as possible, creeping down the corridors gun first, checking the first room of each row (apparently if the first one wasn't kitted out, then the others in its row wouldn't be either).

She had just one aim; get to the Doctor. Worry for Loki and what he might do now that he was free and out of her sight niggled at the back of her mind, but she forced them down and focused on trying not to say something sarcastic.

She appreciated that they were in enemy territory and that John was behaving rationally, but in all honesty, she had been in worse situations with Torchwood and the Doctor, and she had practically swaggered around unarmed.

John came to a stop by a set of stairs that went both up and down; before he could make a strategic decision, Rose cut in, hoping that she didn't sound too critical.

"Maybe they're downstairs -" she suggested; John raised his eyebrows as he turned to look at her, but he didn't seem insulted, "You know…if I were to lock people up, downstairs would be where I'd put 'em."

"Yeah, that's what I thought." John muttered, but he continued to glance up the stairwell, "Don't you think it's too quiet?"

Rose shrugged as she turned and headed down the stairs, listening to John curse and hurry ahead of her to cover their fronts with his gun.

"Quiet's fine – it's when it's busy you want to worry." She remarked, earning a weary but curious glance in return, "You never know when something's gonna jump out at you."

"You enjoy this far too much." Was all John said in reply, before he froze and raised a hand out to her, shushing her.

"What?" Rose whispered; John shook his head and began to creep along the corridor. It was dark, and the only real light was streaming pitifully from beneath a few doors dotted down the length of the hall. When Rose listened hard enough, she could just make out a low humming and ticking.

They were in the right place.

In her need to get to the Doctor, to find out what the Master had done to him, Rose passed by John, who was carefully checking the nearest room.

"This one's empty…it looks like they were using it as an office." He reported, and then as he looked over his shoulder, he caught sight of Rose, "You can't just burst in there!"

Rose ignored him, and shoved hard on the next lit door; it was wedged tightly, and she managed to jar it open, the wood and metal creaking just as John's presence appeared behind her. He was cursing and swearing, cocking his gun just in case, but she barely noticed.

The room had been kitted out like a hospital, with IVs and beds (although the restraints broke the illusion). Bruce was strapped down, and pipes were feeding into his arms, while his head lolled fom side to side, as if he were dreaming something awful.

John dropped his gun and slipped it into his pocket, hurrying across the room to look at the bedridden man, switching from soldier to doctor in less time than it took Rose to let out the breath she had gasped in.

All of her attention was on the Doctor, who was seated in a steel chair, his arms strapped down, and his head rolling on his chest as if he had merely fallen asleep. While she was peripherally aware of John unbuckling Bruce's restraints and removing the IV lines, muttering and mumbling as the drugged man began to struggle back to alertness, it took up only a fleeting part of her mind.

She dropped down to crouch in front of the Doctor, releasing his arms and catching his weight as he tipped forward. With a cough and a groan, he shifted backwards, blinking hard and scanning the room as if he had awoken to worse things in the time he had been there.

He may not have looked like her Doctor, but the bags under his eyes, the way his gaze lingered and vacillated over each corner of the room, landing on her own and burning with a mixture of unidentifiable emotions, they made her heart reach out to him.

"I knew you'd come." He rasped, a dry smile stretching his chapped lips; Rose grinned back, her vision going a little fuzzy as she wrapped her arms around him, relishing the double-heart beat pounding in his chest. After what seemed like a lifetime to her, the Doctor pushed her away gently, peering over her shoulder.

"Bruce?" he called, giving a sigh of relief as his eyes landed on the scientist.

Rose raised herself to her feet and turned to see how John was getting on. Bruce was awake now, mumbling almost entirely incoherently as John helped raise him into a sitting position, rubbing circles on his shoulder.

"It's alright, we're taking you back to SHIELD, it's not your fault…." Reassurances poured from his mouth as Bruce continued his litany, which was growing stronger by the second

"What's happ-ning?…wh'rre m'I? Whoo'rre yo-ou?"

"I'm John Watson, this is Rose Tyler, we're taking you somewhere safe."

"No!" Bruce slurred, and he suddenly lurched forward in a way that made Rose think he had tried to stand up, " V'gotta help…s'my fault, I've gotta, gotta help."

A hand on her shoulder and a weight leaning on her side made Rose's head snap around, as the Doctor twirled his ankles around to get blood back into them and regain his balance. His gaze was burning into Bruce, and John stood aside but didn't release his hold on the scientist.

"Bruce, I promised you that nobody would come to harm because of your DNA, and if I'm right in saying that that team of yours has found a way to prevent that -" the Doctor glanced up at Rose, who nodded in sharply, "Which I am, because they're all beautiful genius minds, then the best place for you is nice and safe on the Helicarrier, where you can get the drugs out of your system in a calm controlled space."

Bruce looked as if he wanted to argue, but his eyelids drooped and his head lolled, and once he was able to raise it again, he just nodded with a sigh, allowing John to hook his arms around his chest and raise him up and over the bed, so that his feet were resting on the ground.

"Come on, we need to leave." Rose said; she placed an arm out to offer support to the Doctor, but he brushed it off, exacting a twirl in the centre of the room and taking Bruce's hands to lever him into a standing position, which he was just about able to maintain with John's help.

Together, John and Bruce hobbled towards the door to the hall, Bruce swaying dangerously every now and again, but not seeming too bothered by it.

"So what's the rest of the plan?" the Doctor asked, clapping his hands together gleefully; he grabbed the sonic screwdriver from where the Master had left it to taunt him, "I assume you've put the Avengers out and about London to hold back the Hulk-people, so what else is going on?"

"Sherlock and Loki have gone to search the databases for information to send to the others, and then have a pop at the portal machine." John grunted as he tried to pull out his gun, but found himself unable with an armful of Bruce.

The Doctor's face fell, as Rose had thought it might, and the spring in his step faltered.

"Oh, don't look like that." She scolded him.

"I can't believe you let those two wander off on their own!" the Doctor cried, ignoring the furious look that John shot him for breaking any illusion of covertness that they had held.

"I trust Sherlock, so they will do fine." John snapped, although he didn't meet the Doctor's gaze, instead increasing the pace of his stride, causing Bruce to stumble into his side.

Rose was about to back him up, for Loki's sake, when in some cruel trick of fate, the radio that she had slipped in her pocket let out a reedy whine. The Doctor and John ground to a halt and stared expectantly at her until she rolled her eyes and pressed the button on the side of the machine.

"Rose-" Captain America's voice rang urgently in the halls, "We haven't heard anything about the locations of the hulk-people, the portal, or anything that might be of use. The Master hasn't shown his face yet, but that doesn't mean he won't strike without a warning."

A feeling like a rock being dropped into her gut made Rose bite her lip and flit her eyes towards the ground. What the Hell were Loki and Sherlock doing?

To her relief, the Doctor answered the call.

"Afternoon Captain! This place is empty, so we can be pretty sure that the people are already out there and waiting for the trigger to be pulled – the Master was boasting about an electrical impulse system he installed in each victim, so the best bet is to rely on that antidote dispersal system you've got planned."

"They told you about that already?"

"Oh, no." the Doctor replied with a smug grin, "I'm just really clever at predicting you humans' cleverness. And don't worry about the portal, I'm sure the coordinates will get there soon, but hopefully I'll have disabled the machine itself before then. Toodle-oo!"

With that the Doctor switched off the radio, sticking it in his own pocket while Rose and John stared at him as if he were mad; Rose didn't know what else she had expected, but the Doctor seemed to think everything was fine, so she couldn't bring herself to be too anxious.

"You're going to find the machine then?" she verified, sighing as the Doctor nodded as if it were the simplest thing in the world, "and that means we're all staying a bit longer?"

"I'm not going anywhere until I've found out exactly what Sherlock's playing at!" John huffed, shaking his head as if scolding a detective that only he could see.

"What about getting Bruce away before he gets worked up enough to change?" Rose reminded the men as the Doctor marched himself past John, who turned, Bruce still attached to his side, to follow.

Bruce, who was still swaying, and visibly woozy, raised a hand to insist that "I can help, let me help!"

Letting Bruce hang around, just for him to panic later and change, destroying everything near-by, was not something that Rose wanted to happen. At all. But the Doctor kept walking, and John kept hoisting Bruce after him, and Rose had no choice but to catch up with them, and hope that Loki wasn't causing too much trouble. Wherever he had got to.

Tony was lounging atop the highest building on the London skyline. Truth be told, he was bored. Or he would be, I the unnatural quiet didn't skirt up his legs and wrap itself around his abdomen in a pithy reminder that danger could leap out at any moment.

He wondered what was going on, why the Master hadn't made some ridiculous grand-stand by now. It would have livened up the day, if nothing else. All he had to do at the moment was watch the stubborn homeless guys that were sticking firmly in their chosen spots.

Just as he sighed, the interior of his faceplate lit up, displaying a bunch of radio signals. Tony pushed the mainstream ones aside to listen to Steve's address, which was hasty and concise.

"I've just been informed that the people that were taken are no longer in the building complex where Bruce was being kept, and that they could be triggered at any moment."

It took only a fraction of a second for Tony to process the new information, straightening up and tensing, ready to move. Clint beat him to the verbal conclusion.

"If the people that were taken were homeless, does that mean we've gotta watch out for these dudes that're loitering?"

"Yes, Barton, I'd bet you anything it's them." Steve answered; Tony looked out across the city. Given where he was stationed, and where JARVIS was telling him to others were, there were hulk-people all over the place.

"Should we take them down now?" Tony asked, twisting his wrists in preparation for flight.

"Absolutely not! Do not engage yet!" Steve barked down the radio, loud enough to make Tony flinch, "We need to try and close in on them."

"Where are the greatest concentrations?" Natasha inquired.

"East, nearer the river and the British parliament buildings – you know, that bridge and the clock tower, the famous ones that the English'll be really pissed if we break." Clint replied. The sound of movement, as if people were jogging filled Tony's ears, and he was thankful for the suit which made getting around easier.

"Okay, everyone close in but don't get too close." Steve ordered, and it sounded like he was running too; Tony tried not to imagine the image, but failed, "Thor, you stay put, you're pretty much central anyway."

"I shall Captain – Donna and I have a clear view of this clock tower."

Tony allowed himself to slip from the top of the building he was on, setting his thrusters as silent as they would go. Figuring that he had some time to spare, he began decoding the signals that he was getting.

"Hey guys," he alerted the others to his actions, "I'm getting the same data on all wavelengths, radio, TV, microwave – just gimme a minute and I'll open the files."

"Is it important right now?" Clint asked snarkily, puffing into his radio as he must have been running.

"Hold on, I'll just…" finally the file opened on the interior of his helmet, but Tony wasn't sure what to make of it. It was a picture, definitely showing the grass area outside Big Ben – it must have been taken recently, as the roads surrounding it were free from traffic. The only thing out of place was a large, lumpy bundle, wrapped in filthy cloth, that sprawled in the centre of the grass.

"Okay, it's a picture of the park thing outside Big Ben, but there's a sort of…lumpy thing in the middle."

"Tony, are you sure this is important?" Steve reiterated Clint's previous demand, and Tony had to stop himself throwing back an insult.

"It's a picture being broadcast on every wavelength – so YEAH, I think it's important!" Tony snapped, "Iron Man can't fly in there without causing too much attention. Romanov, are you close enough to take a look?"

"Give me ten minutes and I'll check out your scary lumpy thing." She answered dryly.

"Thank you." Tony put on his sweetest voice, and lowering his altitude, brought himself nearer to the line of buildings. There were more open spaces here, and he could just about see Clint sprinting over rooftops on the horizon.

Now all there was to do was wait, for Bruce to be taken to safety, for word that everything had been disabled at the root, and for Hell to break loose.

Loki watched as Sherlock propped up the half-naked man. It was both fascinating and disgusting, the way the man's body was marred, and yet looked to be knitting itself back together as he rambled in his slurred accent to the detective, who to his credit seemed about as concerned as Loki himself did.

They had found him, hanging by his hands in the next room they had entered after Sherlock had swept to the computer terminals and inserted a stick into the core. Apparently that would download all of the information they needed, and hack it at the same time – leaving him time to hunt down Moriarty.

But the detective, human as he was, had been unable to show complete disregard for the broken man hanging and torn, and with a groan and a roll of his eyes, had stormed in, releasing him from his bonds, and berating him for wasting his precious time.

"You know, you could have waited Harkness – it's not like you wouldn't heal later, you're immortal for God's sake."

"Has anyone ever told you you're a bit of an ass?" Harkness replied coldly, rubbing at his wrists as he fell to the floor.

"I heard at least three people call him that before we left the Helicarrier." Loki remarked, smirking down at the wounded man. Harkness looked up at him through bloodshot eyes.

"What the Hell are you supposed to be?" he snapped, taking in Loki's leather adornments and peaky complexion.

Loki moved forward as if to strangle him, a burst of indignation flaring up; he forced himself to inhale through his nose and right himself, flexing his hands nonetheless.

Sherlock growled as he tried once again to drag Harkness to his feet, rolling his eyes at Loki as if to criticise his behaviour. Once Harkness was standing, Sherlock moved away, pushing past Loki to hover by the door.

"Now Harkness, I recommend to head towards the back of the building where with any luck you should find Rose and John with their unlucky rescued prisoners." The detective reeled off condescendingly, "I have more important things to be doing than escorting you out."

With that he swept from the room, and his footsteps echoed down the hall.

"It would be best if you did not follow us." Loki warned, glaring at the still bare man. Jack shook his head and let out a bitter laugh.

"I wasn't planning to."

"Good."

Loki cocked his head upwards, turning on his heel and leaving Harkness behind him. To his displeasure, he was forced to quicken his pace to catch up with the tail of Sherlock's coat, which whipped around the corner as he caught sight of it.

As he rounded the bend, Loki almost barrelled straight into the back of Sherlock, who had frozen, his eyes fixed on the pool of light that filtered from beneath the crack of the farthest door, behind which sounded a low, swinging tune, and a human whistle, humming along.

Rose watched, growing more and more frustrated the longer the Doctor banged and rattled the hefty machine, that took up most of the large meeting room that it had been installed in, it's lights and levers shining against the dull steel finish.

John was also getting angrier and angrier, pacing back and forth, his gun in his hand, after depositing Bruce on the ground by the door. Bruce too was becoming more and more lucid, and as a result, more and more tense, and more and more at risk of exploding.

"The Master's deadlocked it!" the Doctor yelled, aiming a violent kick at the machine, "There's nothing I can do, just wait for the coordinates so that Jane can cancel the portal out."

"Will that definitely work?" Rose asked, hoping for anything to distract herself from the fact that the Master's plan was going pretty well, and Loki still hadn't come back yet.

"Of course it will – big machine like this, it's a powerful tool, but they have to pick a location and stick with it." The Doctor assured her, reeling off words the way he did when he was explaining for things his brain had already tracked over, "A small machine like Jane's, it's manoeuvrable."

"So is everything good…are we all alright to go now?" Bruce slurred, looking stiltedly between the Doctor and Rose. The Doctor shrugged, and Rose took that to mean, 'please check the radio'.

"Steve, have you got all the information yet?"

"Nope, it'd be great if you guys hurried up with that, we're getting antsy over here." Steve replied.

"SHERLOCK!" John growled, running his hands through his hair; Rose had to admit, her feelings regarding Loki were fraying to a similar state. It was clear now that they had completely abandoned whatever semblance of a plan had been in place.

If the team failed because those two had wandered off, it would be a close call whether it would be Rose or John behind bars.

"We need to get Bruce out…" the Doctor was muttering. The radio bleeped again, and Steve's voice crackled through.

"Someone's broadcasting suspicious images on all wavelengths; Natasha's checking it out, but you should keep listening just in case."

"Great, that's just great!" John snarled, shaking his head despairingly, "What else could happen today? Honestly?"

"Oh, never ask that John, never ever ask that." The Doctor said seriously.

John was prevented from answering back as Natasha's voice rang out.

"I'm approaching the object…it looks like…something's wrapped up…" there was the sound of rustling, a loud thump, and then Natasha was back on, her voice strained and desperate, "It's the Master – the Master is dead, I repeat-"

A chorus of voices clashed over the radio, and John and Bruce froze; the Doctor's voice was loudest of all.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE MASTER'S DEAD?" he yelled, snatching the radio from Rose, who made no move to resist him, "HE CAN'T BE-"

"The Master's dead Doctor- " Natasha repeated, "The game's changed, Moriarty's gone rogue!"

Sherlock forgot that Loki was standing just inches behind him. It didn't matter; he wouldn't stop him, and if worst came to worse, he would have no problem killing Moriarty rather than dragging him in to suffer 'justice'.

So the detective pulled out his gun and held it ahead of him. This would be quick, and it would be over. He marched down the hall and kicked the door open, bursting into the warmly lit office.

And then he froze. It was like his nightmares, standing before him. He should have shot him, but there he was. Moriarty, sitting behind his desk, feet up, whistling along to a slow Jazz tune. The moment he saw Sherlock, he smiled like a shark, it never met his eyes, he flicked his computer and the music stopped, and he rose to his feet.

It was as if he were choking; Sherlock couldn't find the words, couldn't make his finger fold on the trigger.

And then he felt Loki enter the room behind him, close the door, stand but say nothing, and the small comfort of someone, anyone there gave Sherlock the push to readjust his hands around the gum and glare hatefully at the man that had haunted him.

"Before I kill you, you're going to explain to me, for posterity's sake, what you thought you were going to do before I stopped you." He said slowly, never taking his eyes off of the merciless grin and the swaggering shoulders. He tried to not flinch when Moriarty inched forward.

He tutted, "Oh, Sherlock, Sherlock Sherlock Sherlock …hello to you too. It's adorable that you think you're going to kill me, and you brought a friend for moral support – how lovely."

He heard Loki exhale furiously behind him, but Sherlock didn't drop the gun; he was dismayed at how his hands shook around it, but couldn't show Moriarty how he was affected.

"Tell me what you have planned!" he demanded, and his stomach churned as Moriarty chuckled, laughed, giggled, bore his eyes into him.

"What have I always wanted Sherlock, but to be entertained." Moriarty cooed; the insanity of before, of the rooftop, had reached staggering levels, and practically radiated from his every pore, "I want to watch this world burn – there's nothing worth my time here, you've ruined my life, the lot of you. And then I'll move on."

Sherlock nodded minutely, soaking in the fact that Moriarty was just as insane, just as horrific as he had ever been. How he had ever been fascinated by this man, Sherlock would never know.

"Thank you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to shoot you in the head." He stated. He didn't.

Moriarty laughed again, shaking his head and pretending to wipe a tear from his eye; then he snapped, and his eyes were dark and his face cold as he looked over Sherlock's shoulder.

"No you won't. What you're going to do is stand aside and keep your mouth shut like a good little boy." Moriarty instructed, dismissing him with a wave of his hand, "While I have a word with your Asgardian friend."

Sherlock couldn't make himself move, couldn't make his brain catch up, as Loki brushed him aside with a sweep of his arm and stood before Moriarty. Sherlock's dropped his arms, the finger falling from the trigger as he watched, thin lipped, as the god glared down at the Irishman, his expression giving nothing away.

"And what would you have to discuss with one such as me, mortal?" Loki drawled, and Sherlock hoped, he prayed that this was the calm before the storm.

Moriarty beamed a deadly beam.

"I have a proposition for you."

Fear spiked up Sherlock's back as a smirk, a wicked, malicious smirk crept up Loki's face, leading his lips to his cheek.

Before he could react, Loki had raised his left arm, and he was flying backwards, his back hitting the wall behind him as if a truck had barrelled into him and was pinning him a foot off the ground. Sherlock gasped for breath as an invisible force pressed at his throat, light enough that he didn't suffocate, hard enough to hurt.

Loki spared him only a fleeting glance, which spoke nothing of kindness, or the brief camaraderie they had shared.

"Go on…" he drawled.

It occurred to Sherlock, far too late, that he had made a huge mistake.

I have to admit, for an British lass, my knowledge of London is extremely limited, so please excuse the blatant vagueness of my setting

Otherwise, enjoy this ridiculously long chapter