*Enters with a sheepish smile*

Hi, everyone. I know this is...a *little* late; don't hurt me. I wasn't sure how to end this for a long time, having a bad case of writer's block for this particular story. But I figured out something; I hope you like it.

"...What has he got to do with me?" Arthur finally asked.

Based on their expressions, John and Sherlock were wondering the same, though the detective was now putting two and two together to figure it out.

Merlin looked a little embarrassed. "It's...kind of a strange idea. And maybe even a bit of a stretch. But it makes sense to me."

Arthur looked up at him with a 'Do tell' expression.

"Look at the first three letters of his name," Merlin said, pointing to the clipping.

Arthur did so. "M-O-R." He shrugged. "So what?"

Sherlock understood. And started wondering how well he had assessed Merlin's intelligence as the warlock explained, "Don't you remember, Arthur? The three people who caused the most trouble for Camelot before all had names that started that way. Morgause, Morgana, Mordred. And now-" he pointed at the clipping again- "Moriarty."

After a long pause, Arthur said in his most patronizing tone, "You can not be serious. You think the man brought me back to Cam-to whatever they call this place now because his name starts the same as Morgana's?!"

"It's not just that!" Merlin protested. "He's also destroyed the lives of millions of people, arranged many of the murders, thefts, and other crimes that go on in this city-and all without using a scrap of magic, as far as I can tell. He even managed to steal the Crown Jewels once."

That seemed to get through to the former king. His eyes widened, and he sat up straighter, giving the picture of Moriarty a long stare. Then, with a sudden realization, he asked, "How long has he been doing this?"

"Ages," Sherlock cut in.

"And nobody has ever managed to catch him? What kind of useless, incompetent knights do they have here?"

Sherlock smiled-an actual, full-fledged smile at someone else more or less having the same mindset that he did about those who were in charge of law enforcement. Then he said thoughtfully to Merlin, "You have a good point, actually. If there is anyone who would make whatever powers that be think think England needed Arthur, it would be Moriarty. Though I don't think you're actually needed, because England has-ow!"

John had reached over and clipped the back of his head before he could say that England had him. Then he asked Arthur, "Do you have any thoughts about how to deal with Moriarty?"

The young-looking man stared at the photo for the moment, then said without hesitating, "Find him and put a sword through his chest. He doesn't have magic, as far as we know, and doesn't appear to be wearing any armor, it'll be easy."

Merlin dropped his face into his hands.

"It's not that simple, Arthur," he muttered.

"Why not?"

"For one thing, we don't know where he is."

"That's why we go find him and then-"

"Also," John cut in, "he has weapons too. Far more sophisticated ones than swords."

That caught Arthur's attention. "Like what?"

After a second, John produced his gun and held it out for the former king to see. "Like this."

Arthur looked at it, confused and with a bit of scorn.

"What is it, some kind of club?"

He tried to pick it up by the barrel, and looked affronted when John quickly pulled it out of reach.

"It's called a handgun," Sherlock cut in, finally finished sulking over not being allowed to express his hubris. "It works by-"

Unfortunately, he was interrupted from his lecture on the workings of the gun by feet thumping up the stairs, and someone knocking excitedly at the door.

The old Sherlock would probably have ignored it, and proceeded with his lecture, maybe yelling at whoever it was to shut up; eventually, he might have waved for John to go and open it, just to make the noise stop. This one just grumbled to himself about "imbeciles" and went and opened it himself. And stepped back, revealing Anderson.

"Are you busy?" his former nemesis asked in a syrupy voice that made even John feel nauseated.

"That hasn't stopped you before," was the dry response.

Anderson peered around him, and gave a small gasp at the sight of Merlin and Arthur.

"Oh, you've got clients! Sorry, sorry!"

"What is it?" The detective was unable to keep the impatience out of his tone (not that he was trying that hard).

"Lestrade sent me to get you, because you weren't answering your phone-there's been a murder in Kensington Gardens that he wants you to take a look at."

That definitely caught Sherlock's attention-a murder in the place where they had gone last night? Coincidence? He thought not.

"Tell G-"

"Greg," John interrupted before he could finish the name. Sherlock shot him a look over his shoulder-and as he did so, he noticed with surprise that both their guests were staring at Anderson with evident shock (and some confusion).

Interesting.

He turned back to Anderson.

"Tell Lestrade that we will be there soon."

"Yes sir!" The former forensics man (who apparently had nothing better to do than hang around crime scenes, despite being fired) bounded away like an overeager puppy.

John had noticed the expressions on their guests' faces too; he asked, "Do you know him?"

Merlin shook his head slowly. "It's just-he looks a lot like one of the people from my village." After a thoughtful moment, he concluded, "He must be a descendant."

"Hopefully he's got better survival instincts," Arthur murmured, earning himself a clip to the head (which Merlin apparently was not afraid to give, now that his friend was no longer the king).

John stood up, and then looked back at the patient and his friend indecisively.

"You need to go check that out-if it doesn't have to do with us, then it's a remarkable coincidence. But he needs to be looked after," he gestured to Arthur.

"I'm fine," the former king protested, sitting up straight and promptly wincing in pain.

"Merlin can look after him," Sherlock pointed out. After all, he was used to being the man's servant, wasn't he?

Then the warlock spoke. "I could come with you. That way Dr. Watson could stay with Arthur, and I could see if there's any magic involved in the murder." He stood up, and gave the detective a disarming smile. "Trust me, I'm good at investigating crime scenes, even when there's no magic involved. I did it all the time back in Camelot."

Sherlock shot John a look, wondering if it was acceptable. Of course, he didn't need his friend with him all the time, even during a case, but ever since the Fall...he had begun to appreciate his presence more. He'd missed him during those two years, and the one day he took on a case while John wasn't speaking to him, not to mention the four minutes he'd spent in exile; these were nowhere near the same circumstances, but Sherlock didn't want to be without his friend if he didn't have to be.

The doctor just said, unperturbed, "That could work. Just let me know whatever you find out, yeah?"

"And me!" Arthur insisted.

"Yeah, let both of us know. Then we can start planning out our next move." He sent the detective a stern look, threatening bodily harm if he even considered charging off without him; he didn't know how, but he knew that this was something all four of them would have to work on together, if they wanted to stop Moriarty once and for all.

Sherlock nodded in resignation, and turned to Merlin. "All right. Come on, then."

And so the detective and the warlock (wizard? One of those, or maybe both) set off to investigate the crime scene, leaving the doctor to look after the once and future king.

I know, this isn't quite a suitable ending; more a set-up for a sequel. But I'm thinking of taking this opportunity to open this up to anyone who might want to help me write a sequel; maybe they could write for half of the group, and I could do the other half, or something like that. Does that make sense? Let me know if you're interested, anyone!

Also, if you didn't understand the reference with Anderson, the actor who plays him has a cameo appearance in one of the episodes of Merlin; he plays one of the people in Merlin's village, who ends up getting killed. Just thought it would be funny to include him.

By the way, sorry if I messed up on Sherlock, by making him too needy or easily chastened. I just, like I said, feel like he needs some occasional humble pie.

Well, this is all for now, unless a new idea comes to me, and/or I get a co-author. I hope you enjoyed this.