Greg thought John and Sherlock were both mad. They'd always been, before, whenever they were together. The pair was like a combination of two chemicals that were relatively harmless on their own but produced the most alarming reaction when put into contact. So, he really should not have been surprised they were going ahead with their plan, whether he agreed with it or not. He doubted they'd make it past the front desk anyway, because they were known troublemakers and, to top it off, one of them was officially dead, but then… the door to Sherlock's room opened again, and out came… an old man with a scraggly beard and a Stubbins look-alike.

"You've got to be kidding me!" he exclaimed and approached them, wondering if the illusion would hold up to a closer inspection.

To his surprise, it did. He knew, logically speaking, that he was looking at John and Sherlock, both of whom he knew very well, and yet, looking at them, it made his eyes water and brain hurt trying to align the image he had of them with what he was seeing.

"Alright. Maybe your idea is not as crazy as I thought."

"Told you," John said with a grin that belonged only to him and nodded towards Sherlock. "Master of disguise."

"Jeez," Greg muttered after taking a whiff of Sherlock when he pushed past him. "Was the smell really necessary?"

"It's all in the details," Sherlock wheezed and even his voice wasn't his own.

Greg had had enough. If anyone recognized Sherlock, he'd eat his own badge.

Switching John for Stubbins was actually going to be the most difficult part of their plan, because he was put under surveillance twenty four seven in one of the Yards interrogation rooms - for his own good of course. However, Sherlock promised them a diversion, which is why Greg and John were currently hiding in the broom closet nearest Stubbins' holding room, with the door cracked open just enough that they would know when to act.

"You're sure you're up to this?" Greg asked, pointing at John's side where he knew a large bruise coloured most of his torso.

"I'll just be sitting down pretending to be someone else. It's not exactly taxing. Don't worry so much about me. You'll be the one putting yourself in harm's way."

John looked concerned for a moment and Greg wanted to kiss the worry lines off his face, but he found himself laughing instead because John looked more like Stubbins than himself right now, and that was just plain weird because he really didn't want to kiss Stubbins, a known cop-killer currently in their custody.

"Problem?" John asked, but he was saved the awkward explanation by loud shouts which could only be Sherlock's diversion. The uniformed officers posted nearby to look after Stubbins moved towards the end of the corridor to check what the commotion was about, probably thinking their charge wasn't really at risk in the middle of Scotland Yard, or simply not caring what happened to him if left unattended, even for just a minute.

They didn't have long to act. They ran across the corridor, Greg opened the door and flashed his badge at Stubbins who looked too stunned at seeing his double to fight him off.

"I'll explain later," Greg muttered and literally pulled him out of his chair and the room. He locked the door behind him and spared a last glance at John through the window. He was already sitting in Stubbins' place and had even put on the man's coat he'd left behind on the back of the chair, then he tilted his head, showing as little of his face as possible. The illusion was perfect.

Greg pulled a baseball cap out of his pocket and shoved it on Stubbins' head, just as he saw the two guards walk back towards them to their post, glancing their way and dismissing them as a threat, not that they were wrong.

"Keep your head down and don't talk. I'm taking you somewhere safe," Greg muttered when they were out of earshot of the policemen.

Stubbins still hadn't uttered a word. He was either very trusting, very stupid, or very scared. He had, after all, been informed that the Fury was after him and everyone had heard about the mysterious serial killer plaguing London. Maybe he had suspected it already, but knowing with certainty was a whole other level of terrifying.

They made it safely to the archive room where John had once found himself locked in with two coppers having an illicit afternoon romp. It was a good place to hide in plain sight, if bit too popular for his taste, but Sherlock had told him to simply stick a note saying "Do not enter" on the door, promising it worked wonders because people were idiots. Greg still had his doubts about that, but he did as he was told and hastily scribbled the sign in bold, black, block letters on a white sheet of printing paper he'd borrowed from the nearest desk before taping it to the door. He admired his handiwork and it looked every bit as amateurish as he'd feared. Finally, he glanced around to make sure nobody was paying them any mind and shoved Stubbins inside.

The man stumbled, then cringed when Greg approached him, lifting his arms over his head as if to protect himself from an oncoming blow. Greg titled his head to the side, wondering what was going on, when Stubbins started babbling between sniffles.

"Don't hurt me… please don't… don't hurt me…"

"Wasn't going to," Greg snapped, hoping to get the man to stop his blubbering but only making it worse.

What did he think? That they were playing out the bad cop scenario? Rolling his eyes and deciding he didn't have time to deal with this nonsense, Greg pulled Stubbins to the far end of the room, behind rows and rows of filing cabinets and dusty boxes stacked up high. Finding an old radiator there made his day as it was fixed sturdily to the wall, giving him the perfect place to handcuff Stubbins.

"Shouldn't be too long. The Fury is coming, but she'll head for the decoy. You've seen him."

Stubbins nodded with wide, watery eyes .

"Alright, so you know you have nothing to fear as long as you stay quietly here. She won't find you. Understood?"

He nodded again, tears and snot dribbling down his blotchy face. All of this madness with the Furies for this man? This coward? Greg had a fleeting moment during which he wondered if Stubbins was worth the bother, but he shook it off and hurried out of the room, busying himself around the Yard, and doing his best to look natural while keeping an eye out for Jenny or anyone who could potentially be Jenny. Greg hoped to God she wasn't as good with disguises as Sherlock or they were screwed.

Hours later, Greg went in search of an old man wearing a scraggly beard and smelling of piss. He wasn't hard to find and Greg was surprised no one had thrown him out of the building yet.

"I just start a long rambling rant whenever someone asks if they can help me with anything. They take the first opportunity they can to leave," he explained and Greg could believe that, because his smell was awful and the voice he'd adopted could probably put to sleep a room full of screaming toddlers on a sugar-high.

"Are you sure Jenny will come here?" he asked, needing to know they weren't just wasting their time, and him, risking his job.

At least, John was okay. Greg had walked by his room a couple of times and he had either fallen asleep on the table or was pretending to. Stubbins had fallen asleep in the archive room too and seemed happy enough there. The problem was that they couldn't very well maintain the switch overnight because Stubbins would be locked up somewhere else...

"Based on the facts, I'd say I'm about 90% sure. She's most likely waiting for the best opportunity, but I'm not sure what that would be."

Greg thought about that. When there would be the least people? When the night shift came in? Wouldn't that just make her stand out more? So when there was the most people about? But how could you predict that? Sighing, Greg returned to the coffee machine and bumped into Sally.

"You've been about a lot today? No new cases assigned to you?" she asked curiously.

"No," Greg lied. He had. He just had a more urgent matter to solve right now and Sherlock had already solved those that had been piling up on his desk. Yep. He had already solved them. All three of them. Without leaving the Yard. Greg hated him sometimes.

"How about you? The Furies?"

"We're still interrogating them and looking for the third," she grimaced. "They're not cooperating one bit though."

"Can't say I'm surprised. You've got ample proof though, that should be enough."

"Yeah, about that. I tried calling your boyfriend," she said, emphasizing the word and giving him a cheeky grin. "But he's not answering. Everything alright? Don't forget we need his deposition. He's kind of a key witness against them."

Greg bit back a curse. They had forgotten, actually, and John wasn't answering simply because he wasn't John Watson right now.

"He… still needs to rest. It was quite an ordeal, you know…"

Sally hummed then stirred her coffee thoughtfully.

"Maybe I should drop by his place to take his deposition, make it easier for him?"

"No!" Greg exclaimed, his own coffee spilling over the sides and burning his hand. "Fuck!"

Sally looked taken aback, not that he blamed her, but he ignored her while he wiped off his hands and cooked up for an excuse. He just imagined her going there unannounced and coming face to face with Sherlock. Not good. They might actually kill each other and then Greg would have another case cluttering his desk.

"Erm… I mean, you don't want to go there. John kept the place he shared with Sherlock and it… uhm… basically looks like it used to, sort of a shrine to him. You don't want to see that."

"And you do? You don't mind? You're daring the bloke, isn't that kind of…" she trailed off but her feelings on the matter were clearly visible on her face and they were not good.

Greg shrugged. He hadn't actually. He'd just been worried for John's mental health. It had gotten better since then however, but it was the perfect excuse to deter Sally from visiting 222B.

"Everyone grieves in their own way," Greg said with a shrug.

She accepted that and excused herself while Greg sighed in relief. One disaster avoided, one more to go.

He was pretending to copy files at the machine when he saw her walk by. A bit taller than Jenny, but she was wearing heels, the hair colour was wrong, but the texture made him suspect it was a wig, and then he saw Sherlock trailing a ways behind her and he knew: the Fury was here.

She was smart, damn her. Jenny Atkins had waited for just ten minutes before people had finished their day. When everyone was too tired and distracted to pay any attention to their surroundings. When everyone was trying to finish what they were doing or already gathering their belongings or putting on their coat… Sherlock spotted him across the room and gave him a nod. They would proceed as planned.

Greg's only worry was what Jenny intended to do with the two guards at Stubbins' door. Greg doubted she'd hurt them. They were, after all, only doing their job and were innocent officers of the law, just like her own husband had been, but Sherlock argued that when people were pushed into a corner, they lashed out more often than not. Which is why they had to catch her before she even made her way there. Well, that and making sure she got nowhere near John. On that point at least, he and Sherlock agreed wholeheartedly.

Unfortunately, nothing ever goes as planned and Jenny glanced his way. Greg made a split decision to drop the file he'd been holding and make a loud show of grumbling as he picked them up. He only saw her heels as she hurried off in another direction, Sherlock not far behind. Knowing her, she'd probably planned another route, so Greg waited until she was out of sight and made a beeline for John's location, hoping to cut her off.

In the end, she arrived in the large hallway just as he did, except she was slightly out of breath. The two guards tensed, hands on their guns as they watched them facing off.

"Jenny," he said, because it was no use pretending now. "Surrender yourself. It's over."

At that, both the guards and Jenny drew their weapons on one another. Greg felt a bit foolish being empty handed but his secret weapon had just made its way in behind Jenny.

"Say, young lady," he wheezed, approaching her slowly like a doddering old fool who hadn't realized he'd just walked smack in the middle of a gunfight. "I can't seem to find the bathroom, would you mind-"

"Get away from me!" she shouted in warning and made the mistake of half-turning towards Sherlock as she did so.

Seemingly by accident, Sherlock tripped, then held on to her arm for balance, making her fall and let go of her gun. It had only taken a few seconds, and a few more for the stunned guards and Greg to pile on top of Jenny and put her in cuffs. She was seething and struggling against them, still wanting to fight when she'd obviously lost. Greg told the guards to put Jenny in a cell and that he'd take care of the rest, which they were more than happy to do. No one liked guard duty, it was little better than being a doorstop most of the time.

But… it was done. Over. Sherlock went to fetch Stubbins while Greg unlocked the door to the interrogation room. With any luck, they could make the exchange before anyone was the wiser.

John looked up when the door opened, then grinned at seeing him. That welcoming smile never got old.

"You did it." John said more than asked.

Greg realized he was grinning as well, giving away their success, so he nodded.

"Sherlock should be back with Stubbins any moment now, then we can leave."

"Finally," John said, sighing in relief and taking off Stubbins' coat. "I've never been this bored on a stakeout before."

"Worth it, though. We can celebrate tonight."

"Have something in mind?" John asked and they were now very close.

Close enough that Greg saw more of his John than Stubbins the coward. Like a magnet, Greg couldn't fight the pull towards John if he wanted to. Greg had missed him all day, having him so near at hand and yet not being able to so much as wave at him… Their kiss couldn't have lasted that long, he was sure, but it ended with a shriek.

"What?! The hell are you doing?!"

Greg froze. Of course Sally had walked in on them. She was alone thankfully, but had enough of a temper for the whole station. Greg glanced out of the door he'd stupidly left ajar and saw Sherlock hovering near the entrance. Sally must have cut him off at the last minute. Greg turned to face Sally.

"Nothing," he lied outright.

Maybe she hadn't seen anything and had just assumed. He had his back to the door after all.

"Nothing? You're snogging a witness under our protection. You have a boyfriend! Why would you do that to John? What the fuck is wrong with you? I never expected such behaviour from you!"

Greg had a few scathing remarks to throw at her, but he was too distracted by Sherlock who was making wild incomprehensible gestures at him in the doorway. Sally noticed his attention shifting and made to turn around so he had no choice: he made a spectacle of himself and hoped John and Sherlock sorted everything out.