The cab Sherlock hailed got them to the college in a matter of minutes.

"John." Sherlock ran a hand through his hair. "I think you'd better just stay out here."

"What?" John looked confused. "Didn't the note say to bring me in?"

"And I have to do as the notes say?" Sherlock snapped. "Stay out here."

"Why?"

"Because." Sherlock grimaced. "Because it's unsafe."

John frowned. "Are you kidding me?"

"No." Sherlock frowned. "The man who wrote the note is dangerous."

John sighed. "Fine."

"Fine?" Sherlock looked a bit off guard. "That's fine?"

"Yeah. Of course." John sighed. "I'll just sit out here on this bench."

"O-okay." Sherlock nodded slowly, jerkily, then walked quite quickly into the building.

John rolled his eyes. Sherlock was going to get himself killed. He decided he'd give Sherlock ten minutes, then he'd go and intervene.

His revolver was a heavy weight in his pocket as the minutes ticked by.

Ten minutes were gone.

John got to his feet and entered the building Sherlock had gone into. His boots were a little less than silent, echoing through the empty dark building with every step.

He winced every time his feet came down, but no one seemed to be jumping out at him.

On the second floor, voices reached John's ears. One was most assuredly Sherlock, he deep baritone carried through the halls. The other was unfamiliar, high pitched and whining.

John peered into the nearest door. Sherlock was seated in an office chair, looking relaxed and normal. The other man was sitting on the desk that the chair belonged to. Sherlock's foot was against the desk, twisting the chair back and forth as the two men talked.

John peeled his ears for the topic of conversation.

"...so," The other high-pitched voice was saying. "I was looking for a grey one. Apparently it's not 'in' or something, so I had to go with black. And none of the choices were fitted."

Sherlock cleared his throat. "I don't see what's wrong with black."

"There's nothing wrong with it. It is slightly scary-looking, I suppose." The man gestured to Sherlock. "Case in point."

John frowned. What the hell were they talking about?

"Hmm." Sherlock looked at his watch. "I may have to go shortly."

The man sighed. "Well, all right. I suppose I've got some grading to do."

Sherlock smirked. Grading. "Very well. I'll see you later. Or not, as the case may be."

"I doubt it." The man hopped lightly off the desk. "Good bye."

Sherlock came out the door a second later. Of course the first thing he noticed was John. His mouth twitched in amusement and displeasure.

Grabbing John's arm he led them out of the building.

"Did you fix it?" John asked him when they were in the cab.

"Mostly." Sherlock flipped his phone open.

"What do you mean, mostly?"

"Well, he just wanted to meet me. So he's going to stop bugging Mycroft. But, you know, if I get particularly annoyed at Mycroft, all I have to do is make a phone call."

John didn't know if he should find this amusing or malicious. "Who was he?"

"His name's James. Or Jim, as he prefers to be called. Jim Moriarty."

"What were you talking about?"

Sherlock's mouth twitched, this time in a smile. "We're both a bit put out by the fact that we can't get the types of suit jackets we normally wear. Companies are very stubborn to go with what's in style rather than what we want."

A/N

An even 5. I love it when that happens.

Anyway, this is the end.

Thank you so much for all the reviews and favourites and alerts! They make me write better!