Warning: Suggestive language, mentions of violence, and a crime against yours truly!

Chapter Twenty Five: Tactics

"Action is the real measure of intelligence." Napoleon Hill

"Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid!" Hopkins berated himself for the thousandth time during the ride back to London.

"How could we have missed it?!" Donovan muttered angrily. "When Mary was attacked, the dispatch call just said something about a potential mugging! Yet Baxley shows up and just knows that the attack involved the Slasher!"

Hopkins shook his head in disbelief. "That's how the Slasher was able to disappear from the scenes! I bet Baxley waited for him in his car and drove him away, knowing we wouldn't think to check a fellow officer's car for a killer! How could we be so blind?!"

"It's not your fault, you two!" Lestrade said. "Baxley had everyone fooled!"

"I always knew that guy wasn't right!" Anderson muttered under his breath. "There was always something off about him, like he could barely keep it together! We should have known he was a criminal!"

Clarky grinned as the stretch limousine they were in continued its way back to London. "Seems like the good old country boy was right! I told you Lucky had a reason for not going to the Yard! If he did, you all could be dead by now! Especially you, Greg!"

"Stow it, redneck!" Hopkins shot back.

"A gun-carrying redneck! And don't you forget it!" Clarky smirked.

John sighed and looked over at Mycroft. "Next time, the Yarders get their own limo!"

"Oi!" Anderson protested.

"Enough! Everyone, just shut it for a minute! I need to think!" Lestrade said angrily. He turned towards Mycroft. "Just where are we going, anyway? To the Yard?"

Mycroft nodded. "Now that we have control of the CCTV system, Moriarty can no longer observe us. Also, the members of my security team are trained professionals. I am confident that they can handle any threat Moriarty may pose."

Lestrade gasped. "I thought we were going back to search for your brother!"

"We are, Lestrade. I just wish to preserve your safety until we find him. Sherlock would never me if anything should happen to you while you are under my protection."

"Yeah, don't worry about a thing, Greg!" Hopkins said encouragingly. "We will make sure nothing happens to you or John."

"Why do I need protection?" John asked. "Bloody hell, I survived Afghanistan! I think I can take care of myself!"

"Uh, John? You may want to take a look at your neck before you say anything else." Clarky pointed out, looking embarrassed.

John reached up to his throat and winced. Oh, right.

"I still don't see why I have to be protected!" Lestrade grumbled irritably.

"Maybe because a sniper is gunning for you?" Clarky asked innocently.

"Moriarty could have a sniper on all of us! How come you can't be protected?" Lestrade protested.

"Greg, use your head!" Donovan snapped. "Do you really think Moriarty would have a sniper pointed at me, just to get even with Sherlock!?"

"That's not the point!" Lestrade yelled. "Hell, Moriarty probably doesn't know Sherlock's alive yet! He probably isn't targeting Sherlock at all!"

Mycroft set aside his umbrella for a second to clap his hands together several times. "Well done, Inspector! Now I understand what Sherlock sees in you!"

"What?" Lestrade asked, bristling slightly at Mycroft's condescending tone.

"You have worked it out, Inspector." Mycroft explained. "The reason why all of this is happening. Moriarty is getting his revenge, but it is not directed at Sherlock! In fact, I rather doubt he is even aware of my brother's presence."

Clarky frowned. "So if Moriarty is not punishing Sherlock, then…oh! I get it!" Clarky smacked his forehead, then winced as he realized he accidently hit the cut he received at the hands of Moran earlier. "Damn!"

"Oi! Someone explain, please!" Anderson demanded petulantly.

"The Satanic Slasher, Dr. Anderson." Mycroft said calmly. "Moriarty, for some reason known only to himself, has decided to punish all those responsible for my brother's alleged demise!"

"Then why doesn't the bastard just kill himself and be done with it?!" Hopkins asked.

"Because he doesn't blame himself! He blames us!" John answered, his voice cold.

"What?!" Donovan asked. "We didn't tell him to jump! Moriarty did!"

"All of this is one of Moriarty's twisted little mind games! Do you remember when Sheri told us that Moriarty can detect people's emotions, even though he can't feel any empathy himself?" John asked.

All of the Yarders nodded, showing that they understood.

"Well, that is what he is doing now! The Satanic Slasher was just a messenger to taunt us! I will burn the heart out of you! Except that this time it is directed at us!" John explained. "Moran told me that Moriarty's original plan was for Sherlock to be imprisoned, so that he would be easier to convince when Moriarty approached him later to ask him to join him. But he escaped!"

"And Moriarty blames the Met!" Lestrade realized, shuddering involuntarily. "He holds us responsible for what happened!"

"Not just you, Detective Inspector." Mycroft explained. "He blames London. And in particular, several individuals. He has lost his already minuscule hold on his sanity, and believes that he is avenging Sherlock's death. So even though he was the primary architect behind the entire debacle, he believes he is punishing those who forced him to make Sherlock jump to his death in the first place."

"Claudette Bruhl!" Donovan gasped. "That's why he went after her tonight!"

"Correct, Sergeant! He doubtlessly has plans for her. Plans that are now disrupted, thanks to my brother's quick intervention." Mycroft said calmly. "Moriarty must now be aware that his days of playing games are coming to a close. In a few hours, this will all be over."

"Why? What happens in a few hours?" Anderson asked.

"Did you already forget, Anderson? I haven't!" Hopkins said, grimacing. "In a few hours it will be November 4th, one year to the day that the Bart's tape was aired!"

"And Moriarty wants to plot something big! Something that would eclipse Sherlock's memory!" John theorized.

Mycroft nodded. "Correct, Doctor. It is my belief that he was planning to kidnap and kill the Bruhl girl. He then planned to frame someone for the crime. Probably you, someone from the Sherlockians, or someone else with a connection to Sherlock."

"Maybe that's why Moran didn't shoot John today." Clarky speculated. "Maybe he was planning to simply knock John unconscious, and drag him back to Moriarty."

"So maybe he didn't want me tortured." John realized. "Maybe he just wanted me to disappear, so when Claudette Bruhl was found, he would arrange it to where I would be blamed for the crime."

"But why didn't he kill Clarky?" Anderson asked. "Clarky would have been around to tell us that you were kidnapped!"

"He was being cautious, Anderson." Clarky muttered. "I bet that's why he hit me over the head in the first place. We were standing so close together, that he risked hitting John if he tried to shoot me. I bet when he had John captured, he was planning on finishing me off, probably with John's gun, or another planted weapon!"

"He probably was planning on forcing you to write a suicide note, taking credit for the murder and blaming the Bruhl girl for Sherlock's death." Hopkins speculated, turning to John.

"And he targeted Mary a few days before. With her death, no one would question that you had lost your mind." Donovan mentioned as awareness dawned on her.

"He targeted Ms. Morstan for another reason as well." Mycroft explained. "I asked Melissa to do a cross reference of the Slasher's victims with Sherlock's cases. A pattern was revealed. All the people who have died were related, either as a victim or witness, to cases that were referred to Sherlock through various members of the Yard once the officers realized that there was nothing they could do in their official capacity. Thus, they sent the cases to Sherlock."

"But how would Moriarty had known the names and addresses of the people involved in those cases?" John pondered.

Lestrade looked at John. "If an officer investigates a case, he always writes out a report, regardless of the outcome!"

"I bet Baxley got access to those files, and brought the information to Moriarty, which helped him pick out the victims he wanted the Slasher to target." Donovan commented, looking sick. "That's why Baxley stuck around, even after everyone thought Sherlock jumped!"

"That sick bastard!" Clarky remarked, green eyes flashing. "I hope Lucky kills him! I can help him dispose of the body, too! Where no one will find it!"

"Clarky!" Lestrade protested.

Clarky refused to back down. "What? I'm only saying what you are all thinking! And I don't even know who this super villain Moriarty is, but he apparently has made it to where Lucky's had to live on the run all this time! You guys said that Moriarty was tried before! Well, look how well that turned out!" Clarky exclaimed. "Personally, I say we should all get ourselves a rope and hang him high!"

"If Moriarty is captured, Dr. Clarkson, then I can assure you that a trial will not be needed." Mycroft replied. "With the evidence we currently have in our possession, I can convince my superiors to label Moriarty as a threat to the Crown, and he will be locked up indefinitely."

"You locked him up before!" John pointed out. "How do we know he won't get out again?"

"He won't." Mycroft replied. "I will see to it personally."

Even though the limo had the heat on to dispel the night chill, none of the passengers could ignore the icy feeling of dread as they realized the hidden threat that came from Mycroft's promise.

"Let me get this straight! Are you telling me that Holmes is alive?!" Gregson gasped breathlessly.

Lestrade groaned. The shock others felt at this revelation was quickly becoming old. "Apparently!"

Dimmock looked around at his fellow Yarders in shock. "So Baxley was telling us the truth? Sherlock really is alive?"

Gregson frowned. "Why did those girls lie, I wonder?"

"Wait! What girls?" Anderson asked.

"The Sherlockians." Dimmock supplied helpfully. "Ms. Simmons and Ms. Somoto. They were the ones that called us, a few minutes after Gregson called you. They told us that Baxley and Harper were tied up in the hotel parking garage next door and took credit for their capture. When Baxley started raving, claiming Sherlock, of all people, had actually captured him, we thought he was nuts! Then Harper told him to shut it, and before you knew it, they both implicated each other in the attempted abduction of the Burhl girl! So we booked them, and brought the Sherlockians in for questioning!"

Gregson nodded. "Neither one of them is speaking, though. They have demanded to have their solicitors present. But at least no one is singing this time!"

"Hold on! Singing!?" Clarky gaped.

"Another story for another time, Clarky!" Donovan told her colleague. "But why would the Sherlockians deny Sherlock is alive? Isn't he their cult leader or something?"

"No doubt my brother ordered them to keep quiet." Mycroft noted dryly. "So that we would not interfere. We must confront them with the information we have ascertained."

Dimmock furrowed his forehead, still trying to process what he had heard. "So you guys think the fire fighter earlier was Sherlock?"

"Yes." Donovan replied.

"And you guys are telling me that Sherlock Holmes, that insufferable prick, has a daughter?!" Gregson broke in. "A living, breathing, child!? And he has been raising her?!"

"I had the same reaction, Gregson!" Donovan stated flatly.

"How in the bloody hell did Sherlock end up with a kid?!" Gregson muttered disbelievingly.

Clarky snickered, his expression amused. "Well, Gregson, I'm surprised you never heard this talk before! You see, when a woman and a man fall in love…"

"Bugger off, Clarky!" Gregson shot back. "I know about the facts of life! What I meant was that I can't believe that Sherlock, of all people, actually was intimate with a female!"

Clarky smirked. "We are still talking about the same guy, right? Hell, poor Lucky had to hide out from the females all the time back in Knoxville!"

"Obviously, Sherlock must have kept his mouth shut!" Dimmock interjected, smiling.

"Actually, he didn't." Clarky reflected. "He scared off some women that way! But it just encouraged others. They thought he was just playing hard to get!"

"Are the females in America brain-dead?" Hopkins added jokingly.

"While you are all engaged in discussing the aspects of my brother's private life, all the while leaving me with disturbing mental images that are sure to assist me in my New Years' resolution to lose unwanted weight, need I remind you that my brother's whereabouts, and those of Moriarty's, are still unknown?" Mycroft interjected.

"Oh, right! Sorry, Mr. Holmes." Clarky apologized, and then turned to Dimmock. "Did Lucky seem odd to you in any way?"

Dimmock shook his head. "Not really. But the guy I saw didn't sound like him at all! His voice was raspier, actually. Although I did notice that he kept coughing and rubbing his neck. Like he had a sore throat or something."

"Given the Slasher's perchance for cutting people's throats to keep them from calling out, it is evident that he attempted the same maneuver on Sherlock, but it proved somewhat ineffective." Mycroft noted.

The Yarders turned to Mycroft, stunned. "You think your brother's neck was cut wide open?!" Clarky gasped.

"No, Dr. Clarkson. I deduce that the Slasher probably managed to injure my brother, but not enough, as you say, to cut his neck 'wide open.' Distracted as they may have been, I am sure Detective Inspectors Gregson and Dimmock would have noticed an injury that severe!" Mycroft stated flatly.

"But that doesn't mean his throat wasn't cut." Lestrade replied, looking ill. "Bloody hell, he can die from blood loss, infection…"

"Someone had to have helped him." Clarky pointed out, not willing to watch Lestrade freak out. "Those kids you mentioned earlier. I bet they got him medical treatment!"

"Then let's stop talking about it and ask them!" John finally spoke up.

"Thank God!" Skylar breathed. "So you have Sheridan!"

Nina smiled thankfully as she also digested the news that Sheridan was safe.

Mycroft paused as he observed the two Sherlockians. Almost a full year ago, he had been in a similar room, and the subject of his brother was once again being discussed. The irony of the situation failed to impress him overmuch, however.

It was a coincidence, nothing more.

No need for him to feel worried…

"Now, perhaps now you would be kind enough to divulge my brother's whereabouts?" Mycroft prompted.

"But that's just it, Mr. Holmes!" Nina spoke up. "We don't know where he went to! He wouldn't tell us!"

Mycroft turned his serpentine gaze towards the Asian woman. "Am I correct in deducing that you are the one who has secretly been supplying my brother with information concerning my movements?"

Nina scowled. "It wasn't like that! He already knew what you were doing! He just wanted to know basic things. How you were doing, what your schedule was, what measures you were taking in regard to your safety, and other things like that! He wanted to make sure that you didn't know he was behind the whole thing, so you wouldn't interfere!"

"And you procured such information from your visits with Mr. Douglas, I assume."

Nina gritted her teeth. "Maybe Chase dropped a few details here and there. And yes, I used his love for caffeine to get him to talk to me! But Chase didn't know what he was doing! He never gave up any government secrets or anything like that! Just things about you, like your health and stuff! For reasons known only to him, Chase seems to admire you, Mr. Holmes! So don't take it out on him!"

"I had no plans to do so, Ms. Somoto." Mycroft replied evenly. "My primary concern is intercepting my brother, before he does something dangerous. If you care about his welfare, as you profess to, then you will tell me everything you know!"

Skylar sighed, a gesture of surrender. "Sherlock told us to wait for him, back at the parking garage. With everything going on, it was deserted, and no one came to bother us. He came back, with Lawrence and Kenneth. They brought those men back with them."

"Harper and Baxley." Lestrade mentioned dryly.

Skylar nodded. "Right now, Lawrence and Kenneth are searching London for Sherlock's kid. I'll have to call them to tell them we found her…"

"Right now, the two gentlemen are being approached by my men, who will explain the situation to them and bring them back to Scotland Yard." Mycroft interrupted. "What happened after that? Did Sherlock find something, particularly in Sergeant Baxley's car?"

Nina gasped. "How…wait, I forgot! You're a Holmes, and you know everything! But to answer your question, yes, Sherlock did find something! A black canvas bag. He opened it and went ballistic! He broke Baxley's nose before we were able to get him to calm down! He confronted Baxley about it, and deduced that whatever was inside the bag was meant for the Yard."

Lestrade waived his arms frantically, gesturing for Nina to stop. "Baxley was planning to do something at Scotland Yard?!"

"Does that surprise you, Detective Inspector?" Mycroft asked, his voice laced with condescension. "We have already deduced that Moriarty's asinine plans of revenge included the Yard. And upon learning that, my brother confiscated the bag." Mycroft stated flatly.

"That's right!" Nina said. "He also took a suitcase with him, too, although we don't know what was in it. He told us to hand Harper and Baxley over to the Yard, but to say nothing about him until after midnight tonight! Sherlock said that people's lives were dependent on it. If everything went as planned, he would show up here, with Moriarty, and turn him over to the authorities!"

Lestrade frowned. "Somehow, I doubt that Moriarty will allow himself to be taken alive."

"That's what we thought, too." Skylar conceded. "But we didn't have a better plan, so we decided to go along with it."

"What I want to know," John interrupted, his face grim, "is how you got involved in all of this, Nina! How long have you known Sherlock was alive?"

"I can answer that, John." Mycroft interjected. "Ms. Somoto's uncle once ran afoul of Moriarty, and was targeted for assassination. Due to an unfortunate coincidence, this man was the identical twin of Ms. Somoto's father. Moriarty, with the assistance of the Black Lotus, targeted the wrong brother, and Ms. Somoto's parents were killed as a result. I thus deduce that your uncle, who went into hiding after faking his own demise, was assisted in his endeavors by the late Ms. Morray, who later contacted him on the eve of her death to ask him to assist my brother on his crusade against the Black Lotus. At some point, you were made aware of these events, and were asked to assist my brother once he arrived in London."

Nina smiled. "Exactly! Didn't have much of a choice, though. He was appointed as the new Raven after Ms. Morray's death, so technically he is the figurehead of his own secret web! Ironic, isn't it?"

"And after that unfortunate incident with the Slasher, my brother was forced to include others into his conspiracy. Namely the Sherlockians, who, with the assistance of Mr. Lawrence Duncan, who is a first-year medical student, was able to treat his injuries." Mycroft deduced.

"Right!" Nina said. "We didn't know that you had gotten control of the CCTV system back, so we couldn't call anyone else! The risks were too great!"

Skylar frowned as realization hit her. "Earlier, Chase said he was working with Chimera…and Sherlock heard that! He knew you had his daughter, but he sent us out to look for her anyway!"

"For the same reasons that he decided not to come to us, Ms. Simmons. To protect you. Sherlock deduced that if you were all engaged in a furtive search for Sheridan, you would not follow him to his confrontation with Moriarty and thus put yourselves at risk." Mycroft said mildly.

"And the risks he is taking now isn't worth worrying about?!" Lestrade complained. "Bloody hell, Sherlock is just waltzing around London, and all we know is that Moriarty's hideout has to do with three numbers that don't match anything!"

John frowned. Three numbers that don't match anything?

Hardly! They obviously meant something to Sherlock. He must have already figured it out.

After all, wasn't he the one who finally cracked the code on Irene's cell phone, or deduced that her safe combination matched her measurements…

"Measurements." John said dully.

Three numbers. Three sixes, with the middle one slightly higher than the other two, in the shape of a triangle…

Sheri's voice. "We were reviewing my history lesson, and I was talking about the pyramids in Egypt when Dad suddenly wasn't paying attention anymore."

"John?" Lestrade said, looking at the doctor, completely bewildered by John's odd word choice.

"That's what Sherlock meant!" John whispered, ignoring the others and looking straight at Mycroft. "Mycroft, I've figured it out! The three numbers! They represent a triangle! Not an address! Remember when Sheri said that Sherlock got quiet after they were talking about Egypt…"

"And they were discussing the pyramids!" Mycroft realized, his normally jaded expression momentarily alight with grudging amazement. "Of course! Moriarty's hideout has nothing to do with numbers. It has to do with a symbol for an equilateral triangle. Or, to be more precise, a pyramid!"

"What?!" Lestrade gaped.

"John has figured it out, Lestrade!" Mycroft said, quickly standing up. "Sherlock, and now John, has figured out the code! Now we can deduce where Moriarty may be hiding."

Quickly, Mycroft turned to his private assistant. "Melissa, please contact Mr. Douglas and my niece! Right away! Tell them to run a cross reference check on all of Moriarty's known associates and anything to do with a pyramid!"

"Yes, Sir!" Not-Anthea said, already typing away on her Black Berry.

"Perhaps we need to bring Sheridan to the Met, to see if she remembers anything else to narrow the search." Lestrade suggested.

"I refuse to endanger my niece, Detective Inspector!" Mycroft practically growled at Lestrade. "Moriarty only needs to get his hands on her and use her as a hostage against my brother and me! I refuse to permit it under any circumstances!"

"Well, right now, that child may be our only chance to finding Sherlock!" Lestrade shouted, standing up from his chair. "After all, she already knew the identities of the three snipers, and was able to unlock Moriarty's code in less than an hour, which is better than all of your people put together!"

"It's too much of a risk!" John argued, feeling that as the "Honorary Uncle," his voice should be heard on this. "The Met is too open, with too many people coming in and out! Moriarty's people, if there are any left, could abduct her!"

"What about Whitehall?"

Everyone in the room turned to look at Not-Anthea, who glanced up from her Black Berry. Not-Anthea caught everyone staring at her and spoke again, this time in a non-committable voice, sounding almost apologetic for speaking up. "If we moved our security detail to our offices in Whitehall, then it is very unlikely Moriarty will be able to penetrate its defenses. We have security cards, retina scans, fingerprint analysis, facial-camera recognition, and other such measures that will make entry for a non-authorized person extremely unlikely."

Mycroft paused, considering. "Very well. Have the head of the security team bring my niece there. Upgrade her security status, and make sure that all measures are in place to arrange her transportation there."

"So, now we are going Whitehall?" John asked.

"Only a select few of us. You both will go with me as well, as you are still primary targets." Mycroft replied evenly. "If we must stay in London, then my offices are perhaps the safest place you can be."

"But what about my team?" Lestrade asked. "What if Moriarty decides to plant a bomb at the Met?!"

"If he did, then my brother probably already has deduced this possibility and has taken measures to ensure it doesn't happen." Mycroft said confidently.

"Well, I can't afford to take that chance!" Lestrade protested angrily.

"Would you announce to the Metropolitan Police Force that you suspect that a previously considered deceased psychopath may be planting an incendiary device somewhere in this building? Without any evidence to support your claims?" Mycroft observed.

"So what do we do?" Lestrade shot back.

"Rufus Burhl is waiting at Whitehall for someone to speak with him regarding the incident that happened earlier. I must go to him and explain the situation. It would be beneficial if a member of the New Scotland Yard was there in an official capacity, in case their assistance is needed." Mycroft said. "Now that all three assassins have been neutralized, I see no reason to hide my brother's existence from the Metropolitan Police Department. Their assistance may be of some value at this late stage."

Lestrade paused, then nodded in agreement. "I'll leave Hopkins in charge here. He seems to get along well with Chief Superintendent Maxwell, and he would probably be the best one to break the news to him. Give me a few minutes, then I'll be ready to go."

Sherlock walked through the dilapidated building that once housed the Pyramid Storage Headquarters. The first building that was ever opened using that name.

Just like Carl Powers was Moriarty's first victim. Sherlock thought sourly.

It was just a few minutes till midnight. And soon Moriarty will arrive, eager to put his little "plan" into action.

In just a few minutes, it will all be over.

He had taken Moriarty's guards by surprise. They were woefully inept. Ridiculously so. A few blows, a few well-placed punches, and they were unconscious. Afterwards, Sherlock drug them to the neighboring building across the street and tied them up to prevent them from escaping.

He could have killed them, of course. Logically, that's exactly what he should have done. There was always a chance, small though it may be, that they would get loose and assist Moriarty.

But Sherlock was not a murderer.

Not yet, at least.

His decision not to kill the "specialist" Moriarty had brought in was an even harder decision, but for a completely different reason. The man was in his fifties, barely five feet tall, with balding hair slicked back with cheap hair gel and bulging grey-green eyes that reminded Sherlock of sickness. The man was wearing non-descript shirt and trousers under a pristine white lab coat.

The man was no threat to him, obviously.

But when Sherlock found him on the top floor, preparing his surgical equipment, with one table laid out and prepared with child-sized restraints (meant for little Claudette Bruhl), he nearly lost his legendary detachment and almost killed the man, but refrained at the last possible second, choosing instead to sneak up behind him and knock him unconscious.

Why did such sights trigger such an illogical reaction from him now, when the same sight, a few years ago, would have outraged him, but never to the fever-pitch of hatred he felt boiling in his chest now?

Why did the thought of little Claudette Bruhl, tugging helplessly at the restraints as she screamed, fill him with barely-contained rage?

He tried to imagine the scene, once. Just to understand the madness behind Moriarty's strategy that caused him to see logic in tormenting an eight year old girl. But the image changed, and the girl on the table was not Claudette Bruhl, but another child. A familiar one with black curly hair and moonlight eyes, her mouth opened with a soundless scream…

Sherlock gritted him teeth and barely suppressed the urge to punch out a nearby window.

Now he could understand something of Donovan's glee when she showed up that night all those months ago, her face filled with grim joy as they slapped the cuffs around his wrists. Because, despite their open hostility for each other, Sherlock could admit to himself that Donovan was partially motivated because she truly believed he had something to do with the kidnappings.

She was an idiot, of course. And she was being irrational, as usual.

Typical, stupid Yarder!

But Sherlock could now understand where Donovan was coming from. If he believed, even mistakenly (which was highly unlikely, but always possible) that Donovan had hurt a child, or had hurt Sheri, then he would spare no means to track her down and throw her in prison.

So, idiotic as she was, he could not hold Donovan responsible for what happened. There was only one person who would pay for that awful day at Saint Bartholomew's hospital.

Just one.

Downstairs, everything was prepared. The message, the invitation, everything. And Sherlock was certain that everything was as it should be. He had checked for hidden cameras and caches of weapons. He made sure all the windows and doors were locked except for the front entrance.

There was only one way in or out, and Moriarty would either leave defeated or as a corpse.

Maybe both, if he threatened John. Or Sheridan. Or anyone else, if Sherlock was so inclined.

Bloody hell, at the way he was feeling, he might take Moriarty out if he threatened Anderson! Not because he particularly cared about Anderson, of course!

But if he needed an excuse to tear Moriarty apart into microscopic pieces, then he would take it.

The only thing that concerned Sherlock was that loose manhole cover that he had tripped over downstairs. His plan was to make sure that no means of escape was available to Moriarty. It was an intricate part of his plan, and any loop hole for Moriarty to escape from meant death to John, Sheridan, and anyone else Sherlock cared about.

He hid the manhole under a dirty blue tarp he found lying around, hoping that Moriarty had never noticed it before, even though it was obvious he had traveled here many times (shown by the faint scent of Moriarty's unique cologne that reeked and burnt Sherlock's nostrils, as well as the stray fibers hung on a nail upstairs that belonged to a high-cost suit).

He could only hope that Moriarty, being the arrogant and pompous bastard that he was, failed to grasp the significance of the manhole.

I have to go through with this, regardless. If he tries to escape, then I'll kill him. I don't have any other choice. His escape means death to all of those I care about.

Especially Sheridan. She has never had a life outside Moriarty's shadow. If he succeeded, then she will be safe.

And John, too. His best friend. Maybe the only person who considered Sherlock to be a friend. For his sake, he couldn't falter.

Sherlock scowled as he recalled the events that had transpired since his awakening at the safehouse. Twice, he had tried to leave. The first time, he felt so dizzy that he almost passed out.

The second time he tried, once Skylar's back was turned, he took a few steps to the door, and then he did pass out.

He woke up on the floor several hours later, covered with the duvet again, as Skylar wasn't strong enough to lift him back on the couch, but nevertheless did what she could to make him comfortable.

Angered by the entire situation, and frustrated that his transport had betrayed him (again), he nevertheless made no further attempts to leave.

The next morning, Nina had returned with the package, as promised, as well as news that a situation happened at Baker Street.

Nina was passing by, on her way back from Paddington Station, when she spotted the crowds hovering in front of 221 Baker Street. She stuck around and learned that Moran had attacked John earlier, but was captured. She couldn't find out any news on John's status.

Sherlock was understandably unnerved by this unexpected turn of events. After Ms. Morstan was rescued from the Slasher, he had assumed that Moriarty would give up his plans to frame John, but it appeared that the once brilliant consulting criminal was becoming more unhinged by the hour, and thus was becoming very unpredictable.

Moments after Nina had related the news, Lawrence and Kenneth returned to the safehouse. While they had failed to find Sheridan, they had also learned about the events at Baker Street, and reported that according to the news reports they had seen on the telly, John was uninjured.

However, the news caused Sherlock to almost race out of the safe house, just to see for himself. But such a move would risk John's safety, and he knew it. For several hours, he argued with the Sherlockians as they all tried unsuccessfully to figure out how to verify John's safety without posing a risk to him or Sherlock.

Finally, as a compromise, Sherlock cajoled Skylar to call her friend Chase on her secured phone (given to her by Mycroft, in case of emergencies) and ask him about details from the event.

When Skylar called, Chase was surprisingly jubilant. He told Skylar he couldn't go into details just yet, because "the DMP will kill me if I do!" However, he was able to answer Skylar's questions and assure her that John was uninjured, and was currently with Mycroft at the hospital to help interrogate Moran about Moriarty's location.

"I've got to go, Sky! Believe it or not, I got Chimera with me! The famous hacker I told you about! And we are doing something important! No details yet, though! I'll fill you in later! Promise!" Chase had said excitedly before hanging up.

Skylar was so puzzled by Chase's explanation that she missed Sherlock's face relax for a second, as though relieved from a tremendous strain, before he managed to filter out his facial expression and assume the emotionless persona he so often presented to the world.

Outwardly, Sherlock was impassive, controlled, and cool as ever.

Inwardly, he was elated.

So Sheridan found Mycroft! Somehow she found her way to the Diogenes Club, even without directions! She's safe!

Mycroft will take care of her, and he won't tell the others about me if he somehow learned I am alive! He wouldn't dare do so and risk getting them involved!

And John! John was safe too! And he somehow managed to take out Moran! I don't think I will ever underestimate his combat abilities again!

Despite his knowledge that Sheridan was with his brother (as he had never revealed to the Sherlockians, or even Nina, that Sheridan was the Chimera), Sherlock chose to remain silent and asked the Sherlockians to continue their search for the little girl. He anticipated that they might try to help him take down Moriarty, and he needed an excuse to keep them out of it. So a mission, even one that was based on a lie, was needed to keep them safe, too.

He would rather have them disillusioned with him than dead trying to assist him, in any case. After the efforts they took to clear his name, they deserved that much.

Sherlock finally reached the top floor after doing a final check around the building for any other threats, relieved that the stairs, worn away in several places, still managed to hold his weight.

The top room was ready. Before, he has removed the surgical instruments, so Moriarty would not have access to a weapon to stab him with. However, the surgical table, complete with the child restraints, was still there. It was a reminder to Sherlock of how Moriarty was planning to kidnap the Bruhl girl, kill her, and frame John for the crime.

Even after he had failed to capture John, the fact that Moriarty still sent a few of his men to kidnap a small girl and do who-knows-what to her showed just how far Moriarty had slipped into insanity.

Why go after the girl now? After John beat Moran, there is no way that Moriarty could have framed him for the crime! Did he have someone else in mind now? A new victim to pin the crime on, or has he lost his sense of reality completely?

Nothing about Moriarty made sense. Not anymore. After he was fooled into believing that Dani was after him, he no longer relied on his intelligence. He became a beast in every definition of the word. A mindless, vicious animal with no other motive except to destroy.

How would he react when he found out that Sherlock was alive, assuming he didn't know already?

Calmly, he squatted in a dark corner, placing his two fingers together and closed his eyes. To an outside observer, he looked almost as if he was thinking really hard, or praying.

Sherlock wasn't doing either of those things. Instead, he was remembering.

It was another abandoned building, not too far from the one he is in now. But it is not separated from distance so much as it was separated by time.

In his memory, a lonely woman gazes out of the broken window, her red hair blowing slightly in the wind as she peered out into the storm.

"Jimmy will stop at nothing, Sherlock." Danielle said with trepidation. "He enjoys causing misery for others. His favorite thing to do is to break people. To put them in impossible situations where he always emerges as the victor. In many ways, it's like cocaine to him. It gives him a high."

"And yet you still resist him." A younger and more callous Sherlock noted.

"Because I must!" Danielle replied. "I may not win, but I won't make it easy for him! He wins by killing me or by forcing me to work for him." Danielle said, her tone edged with steel.

"How do you win against someone like him, then?" Sherlock replied calmly.

Danielle paused before turning back to Sherlock. "For me, the only victory I see is by dying without him being the cause! I have always known he would outlive me, you see. I have always felt it! Here!" Danielle finished, pointing to her own heart.

Sherlock scoffed. There was no imperical evidence to show the validity of "woman's intuition" or so-called psychic abilities! Danielle ignored him and continued.

"As far as I am concerned, very few people have a chance at beating him. You might, perhaps. For the same reason that I would lose, in the end."

"What are you talking about?" Sherlock asked irritably. In truth, he hadn't had a hit in a while, and it was taxing on his nerves.

"You are able to separate from your emotions completely. And that's important. You see, Jimmy is like me. He can feel what is important to someone, and use that against the person. But if you can't feel, then Jimmy will have a hard time defeating you, or even detecting your presence. Also, you are smart enough, I think, to beat him."

"So I just need to be a smart and unfeeling sociopath? Good!" Sherlock muttered.

"But you're not a sociopath!" Danielle argued. "Believe me, I can tell!"

"So I can't defeat your brother, even if I cared to." Sherlock waved his arm, dismissing Danielle's remark.

Danielle pursed her lips together. "I didn't say that one need never feel emotions in order to beat Jimmy. I simply meant that one had to block all of his emotions when he was near Jimmy. And you are able to do that!"

"And why is that so important?" Sherlock drawled.

"Believe me, if I find you interesting, imagine what my brother will feel if he were ever to meet you!" Danielle said flatly, clearly annoyed by his resistance to take her seriously. "He would want to break you, eventually, by killing you or forcing you to join him."

"I don't see how!" Sherlock scoffed. "I don't care about anything! Or anyone!"

"Then you are already broken." Danielle whispered, almost to herself.

The two sat in uncomfortable silence for a few moments before Sherlock decided to steer the conversation back to safer waters. "So, hypothetically, how would I beat him?"

"The only way you could." Danielle said, looking back towards the window. "By playing Moriarty's game and using his own tactics against him."

Danielle, as it turned out, was right. When Sherlock took on the persona of the Raven, he pushed away his old personality as much as possible, becoming a blank slate. That way, he could put himself in the figurative shoes of Moriarty.

Danielle's plan was simple. Once she realized that her time was up, and that she couldn't go after Moriarty on her own, she devised a plan for someone to pretend to be her, to act in her name, and to aggressively take out Moriarty's empire. All she was waiting for was the right person to come along that had a chance to succeed.

That person turned out to be him.

Danielle, the poor freak that she was (despite what she said before, Sherlock would never think of her as a monster), understood her brother well. She knew that she was the one person that James feared over the years, because she always managed to keep one step ahead of him. She knew that if Moriarty believed that she was going after his empire, he would lose his fragile control, because of his intense hatred towards her.

Sherlock saw merit in the plan for other reasons. If Moriarty thought that Danielle was still alive, and was going after him, he would never suspect Sherlock. And thus, Moriarty had no reason to go after those Sherlock "died" to protect.

Of course, he didn't expect Moriarty to unrival to the extent that he did, nor did he anticipate that Moriarty would become so unhinged that he would go on a "revenge" plot to punish those that he considered responsible for Sherlock's death.

He had only barely managed to figure it out in time to do what he could to stop the attack on Ms. Morstan, and even then, John was attacked.

Had John not been able to have protected himself from Moran, Sherlock doubted he would ever forgive himself.

And Danielle was right about another thing as well. His ability to block out all of his emotions, which made Danielle interested in him in the first place, acted as a talisman of sorts against Moriarty. When Moriarty arrived to this place, he would use his so-called "intuitive feeling" and try to pinpoint Danielle's location inside the building.

That was what Dani meant, all those years ago, when she said that she could never defeat her brother. The very thing that allowed her to stay away from her brother was the one thing that hindered her in a face-to-face confrontation.

Using his own intuitive feeling, Moriarty would use Danielle's feelings against her, and outwit her in a final battle.

But Sherlock, with his unique ability to block out his own emotions (a feat that he, Sheridan, and possibly Mycroft possessed), would be immune to Moriarty's efforts.

Sherlock knew this from the beginning, which was why he couldn't involve anyone else in this final game with Moriarty. First, Moriarty would have been able to have sensed anyone else nearby, making stealth virtually impossible. Second, Moriarty would play on the person's emotions, and cause them to lose focus, resulting in their probable capture or demise.

And finally, if he was honest with himself, he was not willing to risk anyone else dying in Moriarty's twisted games.

Far too many people had died already, and Sherlock didn't want any more blood on his hands or any more guilt than what he already was dealing with.

He wished he could feel excitement about what was coming. This was supposed to be the moment, right? When Moriarty saw that he had irrevocatively lost?

Usually, just before the conclusion of a case, Sherlock was thrilled, with his heart pumping full of adreniline and his brain relishing in his own brilliance as he watched, over and over again, the noose closing tighter around his prey.

But the last year of pretending to be someone else, to get into Danielle's mind, and then Moriarty's, had left him mentally drained, more so than he had felt on any other case.

He felt that he probably knew the Morray siblings better than he knew himself now. In the process of defeating Moriarty, he was at serious risk of losing who he once was.

How far into the darkness can one go before they are unable to ever find the light again?

I can't afford to loose my focus now. Sherlock thought. Sentiment is a chemical for the losing side. A weakness. I can't afford to be weak now. I must close myself off, become nothing but logic. Any emotions I feel will allow Moriarty to defeat me.

I cannot afford to think of anything else now. My one goal is to get Moriarty. Nothing else matters.

And so Sherlock waited for his appointment to arrive, promptly ignoring the violent tremblings of emotion buried deep within his soul and preparing for the spider to arrive.

Author's Note: So Sherlock thinks he has everything worked out. The Bruhl girl is safe, and his trap is prepared.

But even the great Sherlock can make faulty deductions. Things have changed alot since he was gone. I don't think he believed that Mycroft would decide to be more open to sharing information with his co-conspirators (John, the Yarders, and the Sherlockians). He meant for Mycroft to know he was alive, as he sent Ms. Atkins to tell Ophelia so that she could tell Mycroft. But I think he planned for both of them to remain silent about that information

However, I don't think he took into account just how strong people's emotions can get. Mycroft and Mummy are no longer the same people they once were. The supposed loss of Sherlock has caused them to reach out and form closer bonds with Sherlock's friends. Would Mycroft have kept it a secret that Sherlock was alive? Maybe he would have. Or maybe not.

We will never know, because the choice was taken out of Mycroft's hands a long time ago. First, Ophelia was not afraid to tell Mrs. Hudson that Sherlock was alive, and I am sure she would have probably went to all of Sherlock's friends and enlisted their help, had they not been informed already.

Second, Sherlock underestimated Sheridan's emotional attachment to him, so much so that he failed to anticipate that she would break her promise and tell on him.

Hopefully, he won't be too mad at her. Remember, he doesn't know yet that Sheridan was the one who stopped Moran, not John.

Sherlock, never underestimate the love of a mother to a son, or a daughter to her father! If you are crazy enough to believe that they can sit back and be logical while you are missing, then you have many things to learn about people!

Well, Moriarty still doesn't know what's in store for him! I wonder what he's up to...

Disclaimer: I don't own "Sherlock." Or Moriarty (thank God!) However, I am tired of them stealing from me! First, Sherlock ran off with my bedsheet (which he hasn't returned), and now this!

Peaceful Defender-What are you doing here!? Get out!

James Moriarty (smiling manically)-Hello, darling! Did you get my birthday gifts I sent to you?

Peaceful Defender-Which one? The dead roadkill I found in my bed this morning? Or the bomb you planted in my car, which I managed to disarm, but it still caused me to be late for court?!

James Moriarty-Don't forget the birthday card...

Peaceful Defender-You mean the one where you wrote "Roses are red, Violets are blue, Death is my specialty, and I.O.U."? Besides the fact that it was disturbing in the worst degree imaginable...

James Moriarty-I'm so changable! One minute, I want to kill you, and the next I see us being together!

Peaceful Defender-Ok, now you just caused my insomnia to return!

James Moriarty-Why? Afraid I may kill you?

Peaceful Defender-Considering the alternative, I prefer if you did kill me!

James Moriarty-Well, I need to consider it. You see, I need to go meet my nemesis, and I wanted to wish you a fond farewell, until we see each other again! Oh, and I may have borrowed something of yours. As a token, from a lady to her knight...

Peaceful Defender (gaping)-Is that my underwear!? Did you just rummage through my underwear drawer and steal my bra!?

James Moriarty-Well, I had to try them on, to see which one looked best on me! Ta, darling! (Runs out of front door)

Peaceful Defender (Screams)-Now I will have to burn everything he touched! Ugh! I feel sick! And I'll have to buy new clothes too! (Runs to the door and yells) YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS, MORIARTY! YOU (bleep, bleep, bleep)! YOU JUST WAIT!