Chirp! Chirp! Chirp!

Ally's eyes fluttered open, ruffling the white lukewarm covers. 'Birds' she thought, attempting to pry her still-sleeping body of the large thick bedcovers. She flinch at the cold floor as she walked to a window. Drawing the curtains, Ally looked out.

Birds, small colourful birds trotting along a small branch of an even smaller tree. Behind them were some trees, thick grass, a hill far off. Ally froze, jumping back from the window, her dazed mind finally waking up.

Birds and grass were not at Uncle Mycroft's. The room, the location were definitely not anywhere she recognised. She wasn't even sure she was in London. She didn't even know how she got here.

"Oh, no…" she mumbled, running her fingers though her hair, but before she had time to panic. There was a sharp knock at her door. "Oh, no!"

The next morning, Sherlock and John were sitting in their armchairs, watching the news. John glanced at Sherlock, on his left armrest sat the pink phone. London was loud and busy as always, but John could shake the distinct silence and dimness of 221. It was like a bright light had been broken, and the repair man couldn't make it, so they were forced to sit in the dark. "12 dead in gas explosion." The news blared. "The explosion, which ripped through several floors, killing twelve people-"

John glanced over his shoulder to Sherlock, his face was void of emotion. "Old block of flats." he mumbled, returning his gaze to the T.V. "-is said to have been caused by a faulty gas main. A spokesman from the utilities company..."

John sighed. "He certainly gets about."

"Well, obviously I lost that round- although technically I did solve the case." Sherlock picked up the remote setting the T.V on mute. "He killed the old lady because she started to describe him. Just once, he put himself in the firing line."

"What d'you mean?" John asked, leaning into his armrest finding it a tad unnatural for Ally not sitting on his or Sherlock's. "Well, usually, he must stay above it all. He organises these things but no-one ever has direct contact." Sherlock explained.

What ... like the Connie Prince murder – he-he arranged that? So people come to him wanting their crimes fixed up, like booking a holiday?" John asked, almost waiting for Ally's light remarks in attempt to lighten the tense air. It never came.

"Novel." Sherlock said softly, eyes shining. John blinked, swallowed before returning his gaze back to the T.V.

"Huh." He said, gesturing to the screen, where Raoul de Santos was being shoved into a police car. "Connie Prince: man arrested." Raoul is shoved into the back of a police car. John glanced at Sherlock, whose attention was on the pink phone. "Taking his time this time." Sherlock said venomously.

John looked away, clearing his throat. "Anything on the Carl Powers case?"

"Nothing." Sherlock replied. "All the living classmates check out spotless. No connection." "Maybe the killer was older than Carl?"

"The thought had occurred." Sherlock said, John nodded. "So why's he doing this, then – playing this game with you? D'you think he wants to be caught?"

Sherlock pressed his fingertips together in front of his mouth, a small wryly smile on his face. "I think he wants to be distracted."

John stared, before jumping out of his chair, laughing humourlessly. "I hope you'll be very happy together." Sherlock froze for a second before glancing at John. "Sorry, what?"

John turned around, leaning his hands heavily on the back of his chair. "There are lives at stake, Sherlock – actual human lives... Just – just so I know, do you care about that at all?" he asked, his voice hard. "Will caring about them help save them?" Sherlock shot back.

"Nope." "Then I'll continue not to make that mistake." Sherlock snapped, John squeezed the back of his chair. "And you find that easy, do you?"

"Yes, very. Is that news to you?" Sherlock replied, glaring up at him. John looked down, glancing at the mantel piece where a folded piece of paper sat. "No." he said, glancing back at Sherlock, who had gone (if possible) even more tightly. He was furious. John smiled. "No."

Sherlock paused. "I've disappointed you." John smiled again, pointing at Sherlock. "That's good – that's a good deduction, yeah." His voice dripping with sarcastically.

Sherlock stared at him. "Don't make people into heroes, John. Heroes don't exist, and if they did, I wouldn't be one of them."

The two glared at each other, when the familiar ding of the pink phone rang out. "Excellent!" Sherlock said, picking up the phone, turning it on. The phone sounded its pips and a photograph of a river bank. "View of the Thames. South Bank – somewhere between Southwark Bridge and Waterloo." he reported.

Sherlock paused, before reaches into his jacket for his phone. "You check the papers; I'll look online…"

Ally dived underneath the bed, covering her mouth with her hand. Shutting her eyes she waited. The door started to creak open. A pair of neat black dress shoes clicking against the hard wooden floor. Ally's heart was racing, as the shoes suddenly stopped.

Her heart was making too much noise she thought placing a hand over it. The dress shoes then turned its clicking alerting her of where the man was, the door opened and the clicking vanished from her earshot.

Shifting from her uncomfortable position, Ally gazed up at the brown felt underneath the bed, letting out a sigh of relief. Turning slowly she tugged the excess bedcovers up. Meeting a pair of cold steel blue eyes.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!"

The Hickman Gallery. Ally quite enjoyed galleries. He could never understand it. Returning is gaze to the apparent 'Lost Verwer'.

Sherlock sighed. If he had Ally this could have gone quicker, she had a remarkable extensive knowledge of paintings after Mycroft had taken her to a few galleries when he had a particular sensitive case.

"Don't you have something to do?" came a sharp female, cutting of his train of thought. "Just admiring the view." Sherlock replied smoothly, folding his arms behind his back.

"Yes. Lovely. Now go back to work we open tonight." The woman replied. She had a distinct accent. "Doesn't it bother you?" Sherlock asked, turning around facing the woman. "What?" the woman asked impatiently, putting her hands on her hips.

"That the painting's a fake." Sherlock said walking closer towards her. "What?" she asked, her voice going hard. "It's a fake. It has to be. It's the only possible explanation. You are in charge, aren't you…Miss Wenceslas?"

"Who are you?" Miss Wenceslas asked, taking him in. "Alex Woodbridge knew that the painting was a fake, so somebody sent the Golem to take care of him. Was it you?" Sherlock probed. "Golem? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Are you working for someone else? Did you fake it for them?" Sherlock continued, looking for a sign that she was lying. "It's not a fake."

"It is a fake. I don't know why. But there's something wrong with it, there has to be." Sherlock said, Miss Wenceslas glaring viciously at him. "What the hell are you on about? You know I could have you sacked on the spot."

"Not a problem." "No?" she asked, dubiously. "No, I don't work here, you see. Just popped in to give you a bit of friendly advice." Sherlock said, a smirk itching to come out.

"How did you get in?" Miss Wenceslas demanded. "Please." Sherlock whispered, smirking. "I want to know."

"The art of disguise is knowing how to hide in plain sight." Sherlock replied, walking backwards, pulling of his hat hanging it on the stanchion.

"Who are you?" Miss Wenceslas asked. "Sherlock Holmes." "Am I supposed to be impressed?" she asked, pulling her hands on her hips. "You should be." Sherlock said, disposing the jacket onto the floor. "Have a nice day." He called, dramatically pushing open the doors.

Ally scowled, at the whistling kettle, Sebastian happily setting out mugs. "You know, you didn't have to scare me." She grumbled, slouching on the couch. Sebastian nodded. "I didn't, but it was fun."

"For you!" Ally shot back venomously, jumping up from the couch. "I, was scared witless!" Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "God, when your older I need to teach you to swear." Ally rolled her eyes, folding her arms.

"You take sugar?" he asked. Ally sighed. "One, please." She replied sliding down on the couch, watching him. Sebastian Moran, her driver to Mycroft's, was her kidnapper. 'Who saw that coming?'

"Why are you nice to me?" Ally asked, after a while. Sebastian shrugged. "Bosses orders." Sebastian replied walking over, handing her, her mug of tea. Ally nodded, squeezing the mug tightly in her small hands. "So, to clarify, I am kidnapped right?"

"Mmm…kind of." Sebastian said, picking up the T.V remote. "Kind-of?" Ally asked, edging a bit closer to him. Sebastian radiated a strange warmth, and despite him essentially kidnapping her, she didn't fear him.

Sebastian paused, looking at her his expression oddly reminding her of John, whenever she asked him an 'odd' (as he put it) question. He sighed, shifting over so he could see her properly. "Look, Alligator I can't really tell you why…Bosses orders, and all…but…" he paused again, looking for the words. "Just, nevermind. All you got to know, is you can trust me. Your safe here." He said, smiling at her, before shifting back to his previous position.

Ally nodded, sipping from her cup. "Sebastian?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you get attack often?"

"Why do you ask?"

Ally sipped some more tea. "No reason, just curious of why there's two handguns, a machine gun and a machete under the sofa."

"It's a fake. It has to be." Sherlock insisted, searching on his phone, John, Lestrade and the irritating Miss Wenceslas. The so-called 'Lost Vewer' in front of them. "That painting has been subjected to every test known to science." she replied.

"It's a very good fake, then." Sherlock said. "You know about this, don't you? This is you, isn't it?" Miss Wenceslas sighed, turning to Lestrade. "Inspector, my time is being wasted. Would you mind showing yourself and your friends out?"

The pink phone rang, digging in his pocket, Sherlock pulled it out, turning it on speaker. "The painting is a fake. It's a fake, that's why Woodbridge and Cairns were killed."

Silence, Sherlock groaned. "Oh, come on, proving it's just a detail. The painting is a fake. I've solved it, I've figured it out. It's a fake, that's the answer, that's why they were killed. Ok, I'll prove it. Give me time. Will you give me time?" Sherlock asked, a fleeting memory taking centre stage when he had said those exact words. Shaking his head lightly, John shooting him an odd look, before returning their attention to the pink phone.

"10." came the voice from the phone, a child. Instantly Sherlock whipped around staring at the painting. "It's a kid. Oh God, it's a kid." Lestrade cried. "What did he say?" John asked, silently thanking it wasn't her, silently thanking it wasn't Ally.

"10. It's a countdown" Sherlock answered. "9." "He's giving me time." Sherlock said, looking closely inspecting every detail, desperately tuning out the gasps of despair from his companions. "It's a fake, but how can I prove it? How?! How?!"

"8." Sherlock turned to Miss Wenceslas. "This kid will die. Tell me why the painting is a fake. Tell me!" he shouted, she flinched, opening her mouth.

"7."

"No, shut up." Sherlock cried. "Don't say anything. It only works if I figure it out." John sighed, turning away shutting his eyes. "It must be possible. It must be staring me in the face." Sherlock whispered to himself.

"6."

"How?" Sherlock whispered. "Woodbridge knew, but how?!"

'An exploding star…' a voice whispered in the back of his mind. "Ally." He whispered almost inaudibly. Her voice sounding so lifelike it was as if she was right next to him, whispering in his ear. 'Sort it out, Woodbridge and Cairns they were astronomers they studied the stars. What was Cairns doing when Gollum showed up?'

"5."

"It's speeding up! Sherlock!" 'Supernovas, exploding stars, come on, I can't do it for you. You heard it. "4."

'You heard it in-'

"Oh! In the Planetarium, you heard it too." Sherlock cried, pulling out his phone, walking away. "Oh, that is brilliant, that is gorgeous!"

"3."

"What's brilliant? What is?!" "This is beautiful." Sherlock said, turning back. "2."

"Sherlock!" Lestrade shouted, Sherlock grabbed the phone from John. "The Van Buren Supernova."

Silence. "Please, is somebody there? Somebody help me." Came the child's voice, instantly there were audible sighs of relief. Handing the phone to Lestrade. "There you go. Go and find out where he is and pick him up." Looking at John, Sherlock pointed to the painting. "Van Buren Supernova, so-called. Exploding star. Only appeared in the sky in 1858."he said glancing at the guilty Miss Wenceslas. Pocketing his phone, Sherlock turned walking away following Lestrade.

Smiling John examined the painting. "So how could it have been painted in the 1640s?" he asked, looking behind him at Miss Wenceslas. Smiling he looked at Sherlock waiting for him.

"Ah," he said checking his phone, as a message from Mycroft came in. "Ah. Sherlock."

"Ally, Ally, wakey wakey, time to get up." came a voice from above her. A male voice. Not Sebastian's, but familiar. Rubbing her eyes, in attempt to get the blur out of them, drowsiness was hitting her. "Nmm nn." She slurred resting against the person.

There was a sigh. "Ugh, Bastian I think we gave her too much." The person groaned, gently stroking her hair.

"You sure you wanna do this, Boss?" asked Sebastian, resting in his seat next to a sleeping Ally, wiping of a smudge of dirty of his handgun and calmly tucking it into his holster hidden in his suit jacket.

"Sebastian." Jim groaned rolling his eyes and head. "We went over this." Sebastian nodded, glancing at the sleeping child. "She's a good kid." he said. Jim smiled, tucking a bit of stray hair being her ear.

"She is…Uhhh…I wish I could have been there, Sebastian." Jim said, looking up at his companion, his eyes burning with rage. "I wish I could have been there to kill Mycroft Holmes for taking my daughter way from me."

"Next time I saw him, I could tell by the look on his face that he knew." Joe Harrison said, his grey hair falling over his face, his voice thick with guilt. John and Sherlock watching his, slumped form on his ratty couch. "What happened?" John asked, pacing up and down Harrison's flat.

Harrison sighed. "We had a fight, ne 'ere he fell. I was going to call an ambulance, but it was too late. I just didn't have a clue what to do. So I dragged him in 'ere and I just sat in the dark, thinking."

"When a neat little idea popped into your head." Sherlock said gazing into Harrison's empty eyes, just as a loud train whistle rang out, as it rushed past the flat. "Carrying Andrew West way away from here. His body would have gone on for ages if the train hadn't hit a stretch of track with curves."

"And points." John added. "Exactly." Sherlock said, John folded his arms starring Harrison down. "Do you still have it, then the memory stick?" he asked. Harrison nodded.

"Fetch it for me, if you wouldn't mind." Sherlock said, his eyes blinking rapidly, Harrison got up, walking to his (assumed bedroom.) Sherlock stepped closer to John. "Distraction over, the game continues."

"Maybe that's over, too." John said, rocking side to side lightly. "We've heard nothing from the bomber."

"Five pips, remember, John." Sherlock insisted. "It's a countdown. We've only had four."

John nodded, before glancing up at Sherlock. "When this is over, she is coming back? Right?" Sherlock nodded. "Of course."

John looked at him, a wryly smile settling on his face. "What?" Sherlock asked. "You really miss her." John said. Sherlock swallowed glancing at the doorway, before back at John. "Yes, I do."

Rubbing her eyes, Ally shot up. She was sitting on a bench. Around her were lockers. A school. There was no one in sight. Swallowing hard Ally got off the bench. "Hello?" she called. "Sebastian? Are you here?"

"He's not." came a voice from behind her. Ally whipped around, meeting a familiar pair of brown eyes. "Jim?" she whispered unsurely. He looked different. Instead of his usual t-shirt jeans attire, he was wearing a suit with an odd expression on his face. "Hi, Ally." He said, smiling at her. The smile was different too. Almost too happy. But she liked it.

Jim bent down. "Do you know why you're here?" he asked. Ally bit her lower lip. "No."

Jim nodded. "That's okay. Tell me what do you know so far?"

"You're the bomber." Ally said. "Sebastian Moran works for you. He's ex-military. He's an assassin. You're not really dating Molly. You sent me those gifts…I just don't understand, why?"

Jim smiled. "You're a very smart girl." Jim said, jumping up and sitting on the bench. "I'm going to tell you a story."

"Once upon a time, a long time ago, I had a baby, she was…adorable, small, and fragile. I remember holding her, her hair was so soft and I remember the very first time, she looked at me with her bright intelligent eyes." Jim said, shutting his eyes recalling the memories. "I barely held her for a minute, before she was taken from me. Snatched away." his fist clenched.

"And she was hidden from me, for so many years. And then I after 10 long years, I find her." Jim whispered, shutting his eyes. Ally let out a breath, fiddling with her fingers. "You're my father…" Ally whispered, looking up at Jim.

Jim nodded. "Hi, Jim Moriarty. I'm your father."

Water, even still its light swishing noise, rang out though the school's swim team building. Dark and ominous. Pulling open the door, Sherlock walked in, his shoes clicking against the tiling. Looking around, Sherlock paused, turning around. "Bought you a little getting-to-know-you present." He called out, pulling out the flash drive, holding the Bruce-Partington missile plans.

"That's what it's all been for, isn't it?" he asked, his eyes flickering taking in every inch of the pool. "All your little puzzles, making me dance. All to distract me from this."

A stall door opened, revealing John in an odd puffy green jacket, Sherlock's eyes widened his blood running cold. "Evening. This is a turn-up, isn't it, Sherlock?"

"John! What the hell?" Sherlock started quietly. "Bet you never saw this coming." John said blinking rapidly, Sherlock walked closer, the pool illuminating his eyes. "What would you like me to make him say next?" John asked, opening his jacket, revealing bombs that were strapped to his chest, as a red light flicked on him. "Gottle o' gear, gottle o' gear, gottle o' gear."

"Stop it." Sherlock said, looking desperately for the gunman as he walked towards John. "Nice touch, this. The pool, where little Carl dies. I stopped him. I can stop John Watson, too." John said, shutting his eyes taking a breath. "Stop his heart."

"Who are you?" Sherlock asked, a door opened the entrance to the pool. "I gave you my number. I thought you might call." said the bomber walking into the open. "Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?" he asked, stopping and tucking his hands into his pockets.

"Both." Sherlock replied, pulling out the gun and training it on him.

He smiled. "Jim Moriarty. Hi. Jim? Jim from the hospital?" Jim said, walking closer towards them. "Oh, did I really make such a fleeting impression? But then, I suppose, that was rather the point."

Sherlock glanced at John. "Don't be silly." Jim said, reading his mind. "Someone else is holding the rifle. I don't like getting my hands dirty. I've given you a glimpse, Sherlock, just a teensy glimpse of what I've got going on out there in the big bad world. I'm a specialist, you see. Like you."

"Dear Jim, please will you fix it for me to get rid of my lover's nasty sister?" Sherlock sneered, Jim smiled, his smiles were odd, as if he were metal insane. He probably was. "Dear Jim, please will you fix it for me to disappear to South America?"

"Just so." Jim said. "Consulting criminal. Brilliant." Sherlock said. "Isn't it? No-one ever gets to me. And no-one ever will." Jim said.

"I did." Sherlock replied, cocking the gun. "You've come the closest. Now you're in my way."

"Thank you."

"Didn't mean it as a compliment."

"Yes, you did."

"Yeah, OK, I did." said Jim, shrugging. "But the flirting's over, Sherlock. Daddy's had enough now. I've shown you what I can do. I cut loose all those people, all those little problems, even 30 million quid, just to get you to come out and play. So take this as a friendly warning my dear. Back off. Although I have loved this, this little game of ours. Playing Jim from IT. Playing gay. Did you like the little touch with the underwear?" Jim asked.

"People have died." Sherlock replied, tightening his hold on the gun. "That's what people DO!" Jim shouted. "I will stop you." No, you won't. Jim said. Sherlock glanced at John. "Are you all right?" "You can talk, Johnny boy. Go ahead." Jim teases, John shook his head. "Take it." Sherlock said, holding out the flash drive.

"Mm? Oh that? The missile plans." Jim said, taking it from Sherlock, kissing the flash drive. "Boring!" he cried tossing it into the pool. "I could have got them anywhere-"

"Sherlock, run!" John cried, jumping from behind Jim, restraining him. "Good! Very good." Jim cried, happily. "If your sniper pulls that trigger, Mr Moriarty, then we both go up." John said.

"Isn't he sweet? I can see why you like having him around. But then, people do get so sentimental about their pets. They're so touchingly loyal. But oops! You've rather shown your hand there, Dr Watson." Jim said, as another sniper trained itself onto Sherlock. "Gotcha." He hummed. John shut his eyes, releasing him.

"Westwood. Do you know what happens if you don't leave me alone, Sherlock? To you?" Jim asked. "Oh, let me guess. I get killed." Sherlock said boredly.

"Kill you?" Jim said, looking a tad bit offended. "No, don't be obvious. I mean, I'm going to kill you anyway, some day. I don't want to rush it, though. I'm saving it up for something special. No, no, no, no, no. If you don't stop prying…I'll burn you. I'll burn the heart out of you."

"I have been reliably informed that I don't have one." Sherlock replied. Jim tilted his head, slightly. "But we both know that's not quite true." Jim said, shaking his head, before looking behind him. "Oh, Ally!" Jim called, Sherlock's eyes widening, John shutting his eyes. "Come on sweetie, don't be shy! I know you've been dying to join the fun!"

Silence, then after a few seconds light footsteps echoing out. She looked smaller than ever near the large pool. Her soft long brown hair was plaited down her back, against her black long-sleeve, her eyes wide.

"Come on!" Jim said, waving her over, his tone becoming gentler. Slowly Ally walked over, her eyes flickering between them. Looking up, Ally could see a silhouette of someone in the above them. Sebastian. "There, we are." Jim said, resting a hand on Ally's shoulder.

Sherlock adjusted the grip on his gun. "Let go, of my daughter." Jim smiled, shaking his head. "Your daughter? Oh, Sherlock don't make me laugh. Mycroft was clever, hiding her with you all those years ago…No matter…"Jim said, bending down, he hugged Ally. "See you soon, sweetie." He whispered into her ear quietly before getting up again. "Well, I'd better be off. Well, so nice to have had a proper chat."

"What if I was to shoot you now? Right now?" Sherlock asked, eager to pull Ally behind him. "Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face." Jim said making a surprised face. "Cos I'd be surprised, Sherlock. Really, I would. And just a teensy bit disappointed. And of course, you wouldn't be able to cherish it for very long. Ciao, Sherlock Holmes." Jim said, walking away.

"Catch you later." Sherlock replied, his gun following Jim's movements. "No, you won't!" Jim cried, before a door slammed at the three were left in silence. Sherlock sighed, putting the gun onto the floor, desperately pulling at the bomb jacket. "All right? Are you all right?" he asked, glancing at Ally who remained completely still.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm fine." John said, as Sherlock pulled off the jacket tossing it aside. "Sherlock…Sherlock!" John said, his legs giving in. "Oh, Christ." He mumbled, leaning heavily against the wall, as Sherlock checked for any other dangers, before running to Ally.

"Are you okay?" he asked, feeling for injuries. "Oh, my Ally…he took you didn't he…oh..." Sherlock mumbled, pulling her into a tight hug. Ally didn't move, then after a couple of seconds she melted into her father's embrace. "Daddy." She whispered. "I'm here." Sherlock replied. "I'm here."

"Okay?" Sherlock asked, Ally nodded. Sherlock released her, Ally running to John hugging him tightly as Sherlock paced back and forth, scratching his head with his gun.

"Are you okay?" John asked, looking at Sherlock as he rocked Ally. "Me? Yeah, fine. I'm fine. Fine." Sherlock replied. "That, er, thing that you that you did, that, um…you offered to do that was, um…good."

"I'm glad no-one saw that." John breathed out. "Mm?" "You ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People might talk." John said, Ally giggled quietly. Sherlock gave them a small smile. "They do little else."

John grinned getting up when a sniper trained on him. "Oh"

A door opened. "Sorry, boys. I'm so changeable!" Jim cried, as sniper trained on John and Sherlock, John lightly pushing Ally away from him.

"It is a weakness with me, but to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness. You can't be allowed to continue. You just can't. I would try to convince you, but everything I have to say has already crossed your mind." Jim said, smiling.

Sherlock looked at John and Ally. John have a light nod. Ally shut her eyes. "Probably my answers crossed yours." Sherlock said, pulling out his gun, training it on the bomb jacket.

Ally squeezed John's hand. As Sherlock-

And…Done! First book done! Thoughts? Till next time...