TheDarkestShinobi: This was by far the hardest chapter to date to write so I hope you like it! It should pick up a bit soon as the next chapters are mostly written.

I've got your pet.

Sarah watches Sherlock growl as he hits the seat in front of him. The cab driver looks over as the text alert goes off again and she leans over to read it.

If you go looking for him I will put a bullet in his heart.

"Stop." Sherlock bites out and the cab driver pulls over to the side of the road.

"Why are we stopping?" She shakes her head. "Oh, no. I'm not giving up on John." She may be seconds away from shaking, but John is in danger.

"Shut up." He grabs his head and she bites her lip in anger.

Run along to 221B. I'll be waiting for you.

"He's going to be waiting for me, but he doesn't know about you." Sherlock opens the door. "I can't help John," Sarah would be dead if he had said that last time. Or was it even last time? How often does this happen? Sarah looks away and then back to him but the pain in his voice takes her anger away. "Find him."

"Okay" She responds as he closes the door and starts walking away. "Let's go." She says to the driver as she leans back, "and please step on it."

"I've always wanted to be one of the good guys." He remarks as they speed up. "Who's John?" She doesn't tell him at first, but after a few minutes of agonizing silence and no answer from John, she sighs.

"One of the greatest men I hope you'll have the pleasure of meeting." She dials again.

"We'll get him." The driver is so sure she smiles a little and decides to share a little more.

…

John listens to his phone ring out again as he works the lock. Working the lock is a generous term for it, he thinks, as its really just jamming the rod in and hoping that this time it works and that the cuts on his hands aren't getting any deeper. Despite the growing amount of blood leaving his body, since earlier, he knows he's okay. He can lose 2 without much problem, and it isn't until he loses 3 pints that he really has to worry about it. Still, he doesn't like the sight.

He leans his head on the bars as he focuses on breathing. This is a result of the concussion, not bleeding, but he's starting to think he might not make it out of here. It takes a minute of focusing to make sure he doesn't faint, and that minute feels much longer.

He's not doing to die here, in Moriarty's bloody flat cage. He groans as he shifts again and starts working the lock. He's going to punch that tosser in the face next time he sees him.

…

"I beat you." Moriarty says as he leans back in the chair. "I beat you the second you believed John was me." Sherlock scoffs, "You did." Moriarty insists. "So where would you have shot him?"

"I wouldn't have." Moriarty pretends to inspect his nails.

"You would have killed the good doctor with his own weapon." Sherlock doesn't affirm or deny it. He doesn't need to. "Where would you have stashed the body? Would you have given it to Lestrade? That would have been an interesting conversation." Sherlock hadn't thought that far ahead. "Donavan would have arrested you in a second." Sherlock still doesn't respond that last part is most definitely true.

"John's a little different." Sherlock glances over to the skull and then back to Moriarty. "I could drag your name through the mud, turn all of England against you and still, still John would be there." Sherlock finds that comforting, especially considering that he spends days wondering how he will ruin this friendship. "I could make you tell him yourself as you plummeted off a building, and still, John would defend you." The annoyance in Moriarty's tone let Sherlock know how long he had spent thinking about it. "I could take you away for years but then the life would come back to him as you did."

Ridiculous. John didn't care about him that much. He'd move on to a boring little life with a wife and child, put on some weight, and switch to working for a hospital.

"How do I beat John, then?" Sherlock doesn't answer and Moriarty grins. What if John would truly wait for him? "Quite the puzzle isn't it?" Sherlock's eyes follow him as he stands. Moriarty glances at his bare wrist as if there was a watch. "Our pretty little doctor should have Johnny boy by now." He walks towards the door and Sherlock glances at his phone-no new messages-before he turns back to Sherlock.

"You can't stop me from playing with John until I beat him, but you are more than welcome to try." With that he's gone.

…

"Should I wait here or call an ambulance?" He asks as he pulls up to the door.

"Stay for a bit." She sprints to the door and opens it, freezing at the entrance. The staircase in front of her looks no more appealing a direction than the stretch of hallway next to her sides. She looks from left to right hoping for a sign but ends up choosing to go right. One of the doors behind her slams open and she spins to look at it.

"Sarah!" John sounds so relieved to see her. He's leaning on the door, the blood on his hands isn't dripping, but it's drying along his arm meaning it was bleeding worse before. He looks terrible, but she can't stop smiling at the sight of him. She runs up to him as he attempts to move forward. He is falling to his knees by the time she reaches him and she drops to hers, her hand reaching for his wrist to take his pulse as the other grabs his arm to keep him steady.

She is distracted of course, by the lips that cover her own a second later. She closes her eyes briefly as she kisses him back, but the fact that his hands are so warm reminds her of the fact that he is bleeding, and more than a little not okay. She pulls back and up and he leans on her with hazy eyes. Concussion.

"You get hit in the head?" He struggles on the word multiple and she grimaces.

"A lot."

"Weapons?" She starts looking for stab wounds and he groans. They turn to the main door to see the cabbie running towards them and Sarah's arm sing relief as he takes John. "Watch the internal bleeding!" She shouts as she makes her way to the cab.

"Open the back." He instructs and she does to see that the seats are down.

"Come on Dr. Watson," the cabbie says and Sarah is hit with the fact that she doesn't know his name.

"Flat on his back," she instructs as she climbs in. She looks for something to prop his head with but ends up putting his head in her lap.

"Hospital next." He voices as he reaches up to grab the back door.

"Sarah." She blurts as John's hand grabs here. He smiles.

"Aaron." She watches the door shut and pulls up her phone.

"How did you know I was here?" John's head starts to roll so Sarah grabs it with the hand that was holding his.

"This is Dr. Sawyer and I'm going to need you to prep for a patient coming in-No I don't need an ambulance, I'm in route. No. No. You're not listening." She lets out an angry huff. "I've got a war vet from Afghanistan staining my shirt with his blood." John watches her mouth tilt up in an angry smile. "Unless you want to be responsible for his death," the cabbie looks concerned but John rolls his eyes. He then taps Sarah's knee to tell her something but is crushed by a wave of blackness.

It might have been that.

…

"Watch the door." Sarah instructs and Sherlock raises an eyebrow but stands by the door so that no one can open it without knocking him over. He watches her walk over to the clipboards and lift them. She frowns as she flips the page and Sherlock glances at John's sleeping form before looking back to her. She discarded her long sleeve shirt when she got here, not wanting to be in a blood stained shirt, although it was hard to get the staff to take her seriously in her A shirt and jeans combination. She nods her head then places a hand on one of the machines as she reads it.

"There are other doctors here." He points out, hoping to read her intentions through her reactions.

"Other people are idiots." She smiles at him before crossing her arms. "Although I suppose we all are, to the right person." She had been the most tolerable of him, when compared to the rest of John's girlfriends.

Sherlock doesn't misjudge people often but he's glad that Sarah has gotten a second chance, even if she's avoid looking at John's face, likely to take the personalization out of-oh. John kissed her-had to be John, she wouldn't take advantage of him like that. She is wondering if this is unresolved feelings or the result of the concussion.

"It's not because of the concussion." She turns around and stands stiffly as she faces him.

"What?" Sherlock is able to more clearly read her now, after the shock. He smirks before flattening his lips.

"You kissed, well rather he kissed you." Her lips flatten but she stands her ground. "You still have feelings for him." She looks away before back to him. Confirmed. Suddenly Sherlock remembers why he didn't like her; she wanted John to be safe at home with her. She thought that Sherlock wasn't the best influence. She wants John back, but she wants this to stop and suddenly she's wondering if he could ever love her enough to stop. She can't handle excitement on a regular basis, it is one of the reasons she quit working at the hospital. Sherlock forgoes the rest of his deduction, she wouldn't appreciate it. "He hasn't changed." She closes her eyes and crossed her arms. "I know."

"He won't." John will always need Sherlock. She opens her mouth to retort when she pauses to turn to John. She walks over to the machine and places her hand on the monitor. Sherlock approaches the bed as Sarah presses the nurse button. He looks to the monitors to see the change she had but is distracted by John stirring.

John opens his eyes and lets them frantically search the hospital room until they focus on Sarah squeezing his hand. She's smiling and he finds himself smiling back.

"Can you sit up for me, John?" John nods once before groaning at the pain that brings him. "Hey, hey," he focuses on her voice. "We are going to sit up now and make sure there's no damage." Sherlock moves forward to help and proudly notes the smile he gets from John is bigger than the one she does.

.

"Sarah's asked me to coffee, when I'm up to it" John announces and Sherlock pauses in his action to stare at John, who laughs. "I know, I know, you really don't care." John shifts.

"It's a direct result of you kissing her." John's eyes widen. "Right when she found you, apparently." Sherlock finds some joy in John's distress. "A proper hero's reward." He smiles and John shakes his head.

"I kissed her." John pinches the bridge of his nose with his left hand. He sighs and then he starts giggling. Sherlock narrows his eyebrows. John looks to his phone again and the smile dies on his face.

"I'm going to bed." John places the phone face down and walks away. Sherlock looks between John's retreating back and the phone before walking over to it and picking it up.

If the hero gets a kiss, surely the villain gets something too. After all, every fairytale needs a good old fashioned villain. -M

Sherlock listens, but John doesn't have a nightmare. Today he was the victor and there was nothing to be afraid of. Sherlock plays the violin anyway; he needs to still his trembling fingers. Moriarty has his sights set on John and Sherlock is equally terrified of John leaving him and dying. He ends up working on his composition and the longing to help John throws this piece into a new level for Sherlock.

…

John won't fall to you.

"It's a matter of time." Moriarty mutters as he loosens his tie. "Losing the flat today was a small price to pay for the outcome."

Won't work.

Moriarty shakes his head as if to dispel the voice. He takes off his jacket before his undershirt. "Every time you see him he'll remember what I've done and he'll never feel safe with you." Moriarty unbuckles his belt. "Looks like I've beaten you, dear."

no.

"You fall when he does." Moriarty smirks as he walks to the bedroom door in black boxer briefs. "It's simple."

If

TDS: please review! I'm in need of some reader love!