Author's note: The next chapter is most likely going to be the last.

The boys are up against Moriarty. Finally.

I don't own anything, please review.

They arrived at 221B shortly before sunrise; Sherlock immediately went to Mrs. Hudson's door and started knocking.

"Sherlock!" John hissed, trying to stop him, "You can't just go around waking people in the middle of the night – "

"It's not the middle of the night anymore" Sherlock answered, and normally John would have explained to him that it was just an expression and that he was perfectly aware what time it was, but when he saw his friend's face he chose not to say anything.

He had only seen Sherlock look so determined once before, and he didn't want to remember. Didn't want to remember what it had led to. Three lost years. Three years full of limping and staring at walls and visiting an empty grave and barely registering that another day, another week, another month had passed.

John couldn't go through that again.

No matter what happened, he would make sure he wouldn't have to. He knew that Sherlock would do his utmost to prevent the hunters from igniting Moriarty's bones; of course he didn't want them to kill his brother.

But, if the decision had to be made –

John would burn them himself if it meant Sherlock would survive. Not because he'd never really got on with Mycroft – he hadn't understood how he could be so cold when he'd found he was the consulting detective's brother, and he would never be capable to comprehend how he could have betrayed his brother like this – even though it was true; no, the truth was that he had to keep Sherlock safe at all costs.

Mrs. Hudson opened the door in her nightie, looking sleepy and grumpy.

"Sherlock, I hope you – " she trailed off as she saw his face, just like John had done.

"Mrs. Hudson" Sherlock announced in a voice that brooked no argument, "I need you to stay in your apartment until I tell you otherwise, no matter what may happen. Even if you should hear strange voices or screams you have to keep quiet and stay in your flat, do you understand?"

"Yes" she answered, obviously confused, "but – "

"No "buts", as John would probably say. And please, wear the amulet Dean gave you. Good night, Mrs. Hudson."

Sherlock grabbed her door and closed it. Then he turned around without another word and ascended the stairs, John and the others following him.

As Sherlock put his key in the look, he heard Cas say quietly, "You are concerned about her".

"Of course I am" he answered. John turned around to see the former angel nod at Sherlock's back.

Sherlock didn't say much once they were in the flat; he simply told the hunters to "paint the Devil's trap" – in neon paint that was only visible once the lights were turned off, naturally – and waited patiently as they did so. He never let the bag of Moriarty's bones out of his sight.

John tried to get him to talk, but only got an impatient wave and a grumble that told him he shouldn't be within two metres of his best friend right now. Seeing that the hunters were busy with painting the trap, he did what he did best: make tea.

He wasn't surprised that Cas was standing behind him when he turned around after putting the kettle on. The man had drunk more tea in a day than he and Sherlock usually did in a week; thankfully he always kept his cupboard well-stocked.

Castiel, however, didn't seem to be interested in the kettle; instead he was staring intensely into John's eyes.

The doctor cleared his throat, realizing that the hunter and Sherlock were more similar than he'd thought, and finally asked, "Yes?"

"It's good Sherlock has someone looking out for him" the other man answered simply; then, because the water was boiling, he reached behind John and took the kettle of.

John stared at Cas, wondering what exactly the hunter had meant, before shaking his head and leaving him to fill five cups to the brim full with tea.

"So" Dean announced just as John returned to the living room, "it's done".

John waited for the usual inquiry from Sherlock – they had painted the trap with paint that was invisible in daylight, so how could they be sure they had done it right? – but nothing came.

He prayed this whole thing would be over soon. He wasn't used to Sherlock being silent. It was just... wrong.

"I think we have everything we need to summon him" Sam mumbled. He looked up. "When do you want to start?"

"As soon as possible" was Sherlock's court answer, and the hunter nodded.

None of them would be getting any sleep if they tried, so doing it now was probably best.

Cas slowly and carefully brushed away some of the salt on one window sill while Dean scratched of a little of the sigil in front of their door.

Meanwhile, Sherlock called Anthea. He had explained during the cab ride that they needed to let Moriarty know that they had his bones, and calling Mycroft's assistant was the easiest way.

"Won't he know that this is a trap?" Sam had argued, but Sherlock had simply answered, "It's a move in the game, and he knows it".

Anthea picked up immediately.

"Yes, Sherlock?"

She was enunciating every syllable, once again proving that Mycroft had certainly chosen the right PA.

Sherlock quickly said, "We have Moriarty's bones. We know what to do" before hanging up.

As it turned out, even Sherlock had underestimated Moriarty.

"Hello again. Did you miss me?"

They turned around to find Mycroft – Moriarty – it didn't matter, Sherlock's archenemy – standing in front of the window, grinning. He slowly walked in the middle of the room, staring intently at the bag.

"Good move. A bit predictable, but then you have never been at your best when emotions are involved, have you, Sherlock? And I know you care for Big Brother here. It's so painfully obvious."

He sighed. "So, how do we do this? Do I just grab my bones and wait for the next move or do I leave a body behind? I am wondering which would be the most fun...

"You will not be able to go anywhere" Cas' calm voice said. The hunters, Sherlock and john had be focused on Moriarty, the consulting criminal on his bones, giving the former angel all the time he needed to once more seal the window of with salt.

"Should you try to leave through the door – you will find that right above it there is a Devil's trap. So" Castiel announced, steeping forward, his eyes blazing "I suggest you abomination leave Sherlock's brother now or we exorcise you."

"Well, well, well, the little one is growing up. Don't look at me like that, word travels fast in Hell. Tell me, how does it feel to have your wings clipped?"

John seemed confused, the brothers angry; Sherlock, however, was the only one who felt that Moriarty had just made a mistake.

He was proven correct when Castiel took a deep breath and clenched his fist, suddenly looking taller and strangely older.

"I live with the consequences of my actions; they are not all as bad as you might think they are". His eyes flitted over to the Winchesters.

"You, on the other hand – how long does it take for someone to be tortured to turn into a demon again? Really, you should be thankful we are here. Who wants to walk around in the World of humans as an abomination?"

Mycroft's eyes turned black again; Cas was pushed by an invisible force and pinned against the wall.

"I do not like to be insulted" he said calmly.

"Sam!" Dean called out, and the hunter started reciting the first few lines of an exorcism.

Just as Sherlock thought it was strange that the consulting criminal simply stood there, allowing it to happen –

Nothing did.

Sherlock turned around and locked his eyes with Cas'. The former angel was desperately trying to shake his head.

John followed his gaze and understood too.

"Can he – can he prevent being exorcised?"

Moriarty smiled and rolled up his right sleeve to show something that looked like a burn.

"Damn it" Dean cursed. "He locked himself into the body."

"Did you really think I wouldn't? You Winchesters don't quite hold up to your reputation, I fear – "

With a wave of his hand, Sam and Dean were thrown across the room. Sherlock was preparing to lounge at Moriarty, when John called out, "Stop it".

Sherlock saw the determination in the face of his friend. He was holding the bag in one hand and a flamethrower Sam and Dean had brought with them in the other.

"Put Cas down, too, or I swear I'll burn them."

"What, and kill the brother of your best friend? Oh, right, I forgot: soldiers are always out to kill something." Moriarty's tone was teasing, but his shoulders had tensed almost imperceptibly.

Sherlock looked at him, then at John.

If he had to make a decision –

Cas fell down on the floor.

"Castiel" Sherlock asked, "What does it mean that he has locked himself into Mycroft's body?"

"We can't exorcise him – not unless we manage to break the lock".

"It's difficult".

"Yes. It is."

"Almost impossible?"

"I am sorry". Cas' voice was full of sympathy.

Sherlock took a deep breath.

He had to save John, the Winchesters, Cas – the country.

"John" he said, "burn them".

Author's note: I figured it was time Cas had a cool scene.

Sorry for the shorter chapter and the cliffhanger.

I hope you liked it, please review.