"Moran?" John repeated slowly, his voice rough with sleepiness. He let the information process, coming to the realisation that he knew the name from somewhere.

"Yes, John, he served at the same time that you did," Before John could speak, Sherlock continued. "Dishonorably discharged for brutally killing a civilian. Part of Moriarty's inner circle, one of the higher ups for being a hit man. Known for getting his missions directly from the boss and fulfilling them to a perfect level."

They stared at each other in silence for a few moments, Sherlock taking in the haggard look of his friend. Without trying, he mentally supplied information on the doctor's condition. Six hours of sleep or less for each night he's been confined in the holding cell. Interrogated three times; pushed close to the edge of breaking. He's going to be forced to admit fault although he didn't commit the crime. Worry... Worried that he actually did it? No, more like worried that everyone else thought he did. Worried that Sherlock wasn't investigating. John was frustrated and angry with the man questioning him so often, scared that the implications were right, happy and relieved to see Sherlock and to know the man was working his case.

"Sherlock..." John muttered after a few minutes, standing up and approaching the bars. The consulting detective didn't look like he had slept in days (probably didn't), hadn't eaten in a week (also true), and hadn't stopped working and thinking since John told him Sarah was dead over the mobile (no doubt about that).

"There's no time to chat, John. I've got work to do. Stay strong, you know the truth." Sherlock nodded, hesitating before touching the bars and flashing a small quirk of a smile. He turned to leave; eyeing the doctor once more and making a mental note to have him see a therapist when he got out from the prison.

John sighed and watched his friend leave, curling back up on the ground and frowning at the spot where Sherlock was standing not a minute ago. Alone again. At least he knew that Sherlock was on his side now. And had given him useful information. He knew enough about Moran to put together the pieces.

While John was left with his thoughts and memories, Sherlock sped upstairs to the small hall of offices. Not bothering to knock, he entered Lestrade's office and cleared his throat. The DI looked up from his paperwork with a quiet groan, leaning back in his chair to look at Sherlock.

"What is it?" He asked, scrubbing at his tired face.

"Do you recall the name Moran?" Sherlock questioned, plopping himself into the chair closest to him and steepling his fingers under his chin. Lestrade squinted, trying to remember and obviously failing. Of course he wouldn't remember, the man hardly remembered a thing. "Sebastian Moran. Also known at Moriarty's right hand man." A look of realisation crossed the DI's face. Digging through the files on his desk, Lestrade rifled threw a few of them before settling on a single one, reading it hastily.

"Killed a civilian the same way he killed John's girlfriend." Lestrade gasped, gripping the file tighter and sending Sherlock an unsure look. They exchanged a single nod, then both were up and out and heading straight towards Chief's office. Lestrade knocked before Sherlock could bust in, giving him a dark look. If they wanted cooperation, they'd have to play by the rules and play nicely, at that.

When they were finally let into the office, Sherlock told the CI every single detail. From the blood splatter to the military training and the dead civilian left in his wake. Without leaving a single detail out, the consulting detective handed over the file on Moran, the file that he had composed but a month earlier during his effort to weed out every associate of Jim.

Resigning to politeness, Sherlock told them his theory (how he despised considering it just a theory and not proof). He had to agree to waiting for the DNA test to confirm before making a move on the true criminal. That also meant that if the tests weren't finished by the next day, then John would be officially charged with murdering his girlfriend. They all knew it would be so much harder to deal with if he got charged.

"I've been tracking him since I have learned of him. There will be no trouble in capturing him once it is confirmed," Sherlock started, steepling his fingers and closing his eyes as he focused on all the details in his mind. Facts compiled in proper order, spelling out everything he needed. "He will be armed, there's no doubt about that. There is a chance, though, of two other people being with him. Also armed, though not as trained or skilled, so they will be reckless and on high alert if there is a threat. As a high member in Moriarty's court, Moran should be brought in live. He has information that can prove to be very useful to this country as a whole."

The three men sat in the office for two hours, going over every aspect of the case and the men at large. As if Anderson was on his side for once, the man rushed his forensics team into providing them with a DNA analysis before the day was out. And sure enough, when the CI's shift was nearly over, Anderson and Donovan popped into the office to announce that it was confirmed that Moran was their man. The feeling of rush was all around, each member in the room seemed to want to help out the doctor downstairs (even the Chief seemed eager to participate). Assembling all of the members of the force that were volunteering to help, the group got on their way to planning their attack. Ten Met officers in total, plus Sherlock, made it obvious that they were going to come out the victors.

The proof that John was innocent was piling all around them. Anderson's team agreed with Sherlock's analysis of the arterial spray as well as the lack of blood on John's body or clothing. The weapon was nowhere to be found (added to the short list of things to search for when Moran was caught). Everyone was listening to Sherlock deduce and shorten the list of possible locations where Sebastian could be; everyone was on his side. No one was arguing or pointing out possible faults or even asking where he got the information. It wasn't a secret how hard he had worked gathering information on Moriarty and his entire team. The entire Yard knew that.

At the end of another two hours, the plans had been set. It had been narrowed down to two possible spots for the criminal to be at. Half the team would see to one spot, the other half (and Sherlock) would go to the other. One was a semi-populated section of run down houses at the edge of London; the other was a set of empty offices and warehouses along the edge of the Thames.

"Wait, what about John? Should we let him out?" Lestrade asked, grabbing Sherlock's arm and looking at the lift that led to the holding cells. Shaking his head in response, the consulting detective sighed and dragged the officer with him.

"If we let him out now, someone will try to make it seem as if he had a hand in convicting Moran. Which could be seen as messing with the records. Understand?" The DI simply nodded, checking to make sure he had his gun and vest on him before leaving on the convoy.

It had been decided that there would be three men wherever Moran was, all armed with guns (at least one of those being a semi-automatic). The likelihood of someone being hurt was high, and the chances of getting the man out alive weren't so high. If they wanted him, they had to hurry.

Moriarty was smart. Smart enough to know that Moran was going to be caught (he wouldn't have gotten such a lame hit man, if he cared). The question was if Moran was that smart. There was enough evidence against him that charges would be filed. If the man escaped, he was prone to be hunted down by the big man himself. Moriarty wasn't going to let him get away with such an obvious murder; he'd either get killed or put in prison.

And they wanted him alive.

He was right. The warehouse on Thames. Three men (all with semi-automatics though). Sneaking into the building was the easy part, but capturing them was a tad more difficult than expected. Two officers were shot down before even one of the criminals was taken down. Sherlock hung back slightly, examining the room and the men and whispering to Lestrade every time he saw one of them make a move in their direction.

The men were panicking, just as to be expected from amateurs. Even Moran seemed to be surprised at the appearance of officers.

Before he could blink, one was dead (Herrings, his mind supplied) and both Moran and the third (Devon) were handcuffed and facedown on the ground. A medic rushed into to check the wounded officers (Lestrade did something right for once, by making sure the ambulance stayed near).

Digging and rooting through the filing cabinets, Sherlock took all of the information in as fast as he possibly could before the Met confiscated them. Information about Moriarty's contacts, lists of exchanges and deals and various criminal activities. None of which actually named James Moriarty. He was pleased to find that many of the men underneath him would be able to face persecution, though, after Scotland Yard searched through each file. So many cold cases could be solved with the help of these files. But he didn't care about that, just yet.

Ah, just as he thought. The idiots had files explaining the details of Sarah Sawyer's murder.

"Chief Inspector, I think you will find everything in this file," He flashed a look of pleasure at the CI. "Now, if you don't mind, I would like to retrieve my friend from his cell before he goes insane." Striding off and smirking at the handcuffed men, Sherlock thumped Lestrade on the back as a simple thank-you.

"Lestrade, my good man, I say it's time to let the doctor out of his cage." Together, they made their way back to the station, both lighter than they had been in days. Both looked on the verge of either eating any sort of food that came in their way or sleeping on the first comfortable thing they saw.

But the moment they stepped into the station, they knew something was wrong.

Not stopping for a soul, Sherlock hurtled down to the cells only to see the one thing he desperately didn't want to see.

There was no John, but there was a regrettably familiar face.

"Hello, little brother."


A/N - A little short again, sorry. I've been distracted by my other fics. I'm hoping to have one of them up before the end of the week, but we'll see. And please keep the reviews/favorites/alerts coming, it's great to know you guys love the story!