A cavalry of a fully suited and engaged iron man, a super soldier in Adidas, and an archer wearing a leather jacket were standing ready to strike. The giant hole behind them still smoked from the impact of one of Iron Man's explosive projectiles. The super soldier stepped forward.

"What are you are doing here on restricted premises." Steve ordered.

"We're here under an ordinance by the British Government," John snapped, while trying to pull out a page of legal documents from his jacket.

"John," Sherlock violently whispered as he elbowed John in the ribs, "Those are fake, Mycroft didn't tell the government we'd be here."

"Wait what-

"SHEILD has not authorized any other outside organization to enter the premises," Steve stated.

"And we found these at the bottom of the mountain," Clint held up a pile of discarded clothes. They were the remnants of John and Sherlock's disguises that they had shedded before coming to the abandoned prison.

"Well, sorry to inform you, but other human beings in the world actually care about what happens to a location of radioactive extremities and actually carry the duty of checking on it, something that you Americans have very little experience in, if I do say so myself." Sherlock quipped. "Now if you excuse me I saw a rather remarkable tree just outside and I think I might go take another look at it, hm?" Sherlock said slowly backing away. Then with a start, burst into a full sprint, dragging John Watson behind him.

"Sherlock," huffed John as they sprinted down the winding corridors, "Do you realize who those people are?!"

"They're Americans, so I don't care."

"Sherlock!" reprimanded the former before jumping over an overturned rock. "Let's do a roll call shall we?" John breathed out between paces, "One of them, *huff* has superpowers. The other one, *huff* is an ingenious killing machine, and the other one, *huff* is a man, with unnatural, and unmatchable skills."

"Well John," Sherlock snapped back as he dodged a misplaced boulder, "By your definition, technically, I'm all three of them combined," Sherlock smirked as they both continued to sprint down the winding halls of the prison.

"Now's not the time for ego reinforcement, Sherlock! We've got the star-spangled golden boys at our backs and we don't have a bloody plan!" John huffed as they turned another corner.

"Do what I do, hold on tight, and pretend it's a plan!" Sherlock shouted before suddenly turning sharply and jumped out of a blast hole in the wall and onto the rocky slope of the mountain.

"What the hell- oh whatever," John grimaced and followed his friend out the wall and into the cold air.

They quickly scrambled their way across several small boulders, jumping several outrageous distances in attempt to increase their distance from the pursuing Avengers. "We can't outrun them, Sherlock, it's mad that you're even trying." John spat.

"Clever observation, Watson, I'm truly proud of you," Sherlock said. A smug smile arose his face as he suddenly stopped in front of a towering boulder. "But, the comment is really unnecessary by now." Sherlock grasped both sides of the boulder, and shifted the surprisingly light hunk of sediment to the right, revealing a cavernous hole behind it. "Quick, inside." The two of them darted into the dark space as Sherlock heaved the rock back into its place, sealing them off from the outside.

The pocket of mountain that they now resided in was about the size of a toilet cubicle. John slid down onto the floor, breathing heavily in exhaustion. Sherlock took out his flashlight and shone it up at the ceiling of the rocky hole, providing light for both of them.

"So," John breathed, "What the hell was that about?"

"Nothing." Replied Sherlock.

"Nothing?! Sherlock, those were the Avengers, like, the super shooting, alien blasting, Avengers."

"They could have been imitators."

"They were NOT! Those were not, bloody, imitators! The Iron robot was going to blow you into several hundreds of wispy, Sherlock pieces!" John violently whispered. "Although I wouldn't be complaining if he did."

Sherlock gave him a condescending glare before slumping next to John.

"Take this," Sherlock muttered, handing John a small handgun from his coat.

"Wait, why?"

"You weren't planning to escape the 'Iron Robot' with your wit and fists were you?" Sherlock mocked.

"What are you planning now?"

Sherlock jumped to his feet. "Come on, we haven't got much-

-BAM-

Sherlock was interrupted by a sudden blast that not only cut off his speech but sent him tumbling backwards until he landed safely on his bum. Albeit quite sore, he was unharmed. John appeared to be in the same, disoriented situation, but that was quickly changed when a patriotic disk was sent flying towards his head.

"JOHN, DUCK!" Sherlock roared from ten meters away.

John quickly dived to the ground, dodging the unidentified flying object coming straight for his head. John, who had spent several moments in Afghanistan in the same exact position, whipped out Sherlock's handgun, and aimed then fired four times at where the shield had come soaring from.

A red and gold blur rushed past John as he heard four pings of metal against metal. John rightly assumed that the man of iron had come to save his damsel in patriotic drapery, deflecting the fired bullets with his new and ever-improving armor.

"Okay redcoats, revolution over. You're surrounded and we're going to have to take you to see Mother Fury." The robotic voicings of Tony Stark boomed out through the audio transmitter of his suit. Sherlock quickly grappled his way towards John, checking to make sure his best man and former flat-mate wasn't bleeding profusely like he so often did.

"Hey you, tiny one, put the gun down," the archer shouted, his bow tightly drawn with an arrow notched and at the ready.

"Don't let go of it." Sherlock ordered John, quietly into his ear. "Run on my count, 1-"

"Dude, put the firearm down," Hawkeye commanded.

"2-"

"Do you want to get pierced in the head?"

"3-"

"Alright, you asked for it-

"NOW!" Sherlock and John sprung up and began a sprinting in two different directions. Hawkeye quickly retracted his bow and arrow and leaped after the smaller of the two.

"I've got the midget, you take the emo," Clint spoke into his earpiece as he rapidly followed the trespasser, "I've got this," he muttered to himself.

Hawkeye spotted a dying branch several meters above him and the fugitive. With a great surge, he grabbed onto the course bark of the branch, swung, and sent himself hurtling right towards at John Watson. A crash landing followed. But when Hawkeye opened his eyes and saw a face full of cardigan, he knew he had hit his target. With a great heave, Clint sat up and pinned the suspect to the ground

"Stark, one down, one more to go-"Hawkeye was suddenly cut off when a flying fist smashed against his ribcage.

John Watson was a bloody war veteran and he'd be damned if he didn't go down without a fight.