Only a few more chapters to go guys…

I don't own Sherlock.

- Took you long enough. Battersea power station – JM.

Sherlock stared at the text. Not thirty seconds after hearing the answer machine confirm Liz was fired did his phone ring with a text from Moriarty.

''The power station. Come on'' he quickly shoved on his coat and scarf and practically flew down the stairs, John hot on his heels.

''Are you going to explain?''

''In the cab''

Elizabeth woke with a groan. Feeling nauseous and like her head was about to split in two. She blinked a few times to clear the blurriness of her vision and realised she was sat upright in a chair.

She tried to move but felt something rough tug against her wrists which were tied behind her back and to the chair.

''What the… Oi!'' she shouted out, and it echoed, not knowing if anyone was in the room with her or not. She looked round, it seemed like a warehouse. Empty, cold grey floor and walls and an extremely high ceiling.

Thinking back, she remembered a man approach her on her way to work. After that, it was all a blur and then she woke up here.

Liz struggled in the chair for minutes but it was useless. All she was achieving was sore wrists.

Taking a deep breath and willing herself to not lose patience, she looked down towards her lap only noticing what looked like blood had dripped onto her white work blouse. It was then she registered the feeling of something warm trickling down the side of her face, her own blood.

Great.

''I see your finally awake'' her head snapped up in the direction of the voice and she saw him. A man dressed in a brisk grey suit was walking towards her and extracting a white hanky from his blazer pocket, ''that's quite a shiner you've got there'' he dabbed his handkerchief over her left eye where she assumed the blood was coming from. ''Such a pretty face, shame we had to hit you but the boys said you wouldn't come quietly'' he cooed.

''Your Jim Moriarty?''

''Why, you almost sound disappointed. Of course, who else did you expect? I'm Moriarty and you, Elizabeth Holmes have been a very bad girl indeed''

He kept circling her around the chair, making her feel faint as she had to keep turning her head to keep him in sight, ''why have you brought me here? Surely if you wanted me killed you could have had it done in the street''

''This way is more fun'' he said simply. ''Way, way more fun. Besides, we wouldn't want our main guest to miss the show''

''Sherlock…''

''Of course, I've texted him so he should be here soon'' suddenly his phone beeped and he took it from his pocket, ''Ah, speak of the devil. I'm going to untie you now and we can greet him together''

John watched his friend in the taxi. He was staring out of the window with a blank expression on his face, a dam good poker face if ever he saw one. After Sherlock had explained everything, John was up to date and the rest of the journey was quiet.

The car pulled up outside the power station and Sherlock shoved a handful of notes at the cabbie before getting out, not even bothering to wait for John as he trailed over to one of the open side entrances.

The building looked derelict, what with scaffolding scattered here and there and abandoned machinery left unattended. There was an eerie feel about the place that made John feel uneasy, clearly the building had not been in use for some time.

''Do we have a plan?''

Sherlock spared him a glance as they turned another corner sharply, ''Improvising''

''Great, good. Glad to hear it'' John said, not really trying and failing to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

They walked quickly, footsteps echoing loudly around the empty halls until they entered the high ceiling room; they were in semi-darkness except for a few flickering lights above which buzzed softly.

In the middle of the room stood Elizabeth looking tired and bloody, Moriarty right behind her with one arm spread round her front, holding her close and the other pressing a gun firmly to her temple.

''Ahh Sherlock, so glad you could make it. We waited for you'' Moriarty said, edging forward with Liz wriggling in his arms.

Sherlock stepped closer, one arm stretched out infront of him in submission, ''ah, ah, ah, you stay right there or I may just reconsider and blow her brains out right now. These walls could do with redecorating, don't you think Liz?'' he whispered the last part softly and she growled something back in frustration.

''Oh Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie, you're not in a position to make threats'' he laughed.

''Just let her go Jim, you don't have to do this'' Sherlock spoke, still trying to get closer. He could see the blood streaked down her face and noticed how her breathing was quick and raspy. He tried not to panic but the way his arm trembled showed differently.

''Oh I really think I do, you see we're just getting to the best part'' then he turned his attention back to the battered woman in his arms, ''I must say that you're a lot shorter in person than I expected but then I guess that's what having a tall husband does for you. Although I can see why you like her Sherlock, stimulating physique…'' he nipped at her earlobe and she whipped her head round instantly.

''Don't. Touch me'' she breathed out shakily, still struggling against his iron grip and all Sherlock could do was stand there and watch with John stood beside him idly. He grimaced as Jim lowered his mouth to Liz's exposed neck and whispered something he couldn't hear. Judging by the way she started thrashing more in his arms, it didn't take a detective to work out what he was suggesting.

''Oh and you're a biter to, I do love biters. Make interesting fuck buddies'' he was so close, Liz could feel his breath creep down her neck, sending a chill down her spine that had nothing to do with cool air.

''Don't even think about it'' They all turned to look at John who had remembered he had a gun tucked in his trousers and was currently pointing it straight at Moriarty, he unclasped the safety, ''or it'll be your brains that splatter the walls''

''Doctor Watson, almost forgot you were here'' John passed the gun over to Sherlock who kept it pointed at Moriarty as he moved forwards warily.

''I mean it Sherlock, I'll empty this thing in her fucking head if you come any closer''

Sherlock stopped.

''If you intended to kill her you would have already done so by now'' For the first time, Liz and Sherlock made eye contact. He could see the fear behind her eyes as Moriarty held her to his body.

''She killed your baby, Sherlock'' Moriarty whispered. ''Surely you want some sort of retribution-,''

''Nope'' he replied calmly, ''By all accounts, I think she did the right thing'' and Liz let out a breath she didn't realise she had been holding.

''If you hurt her James, I swear on my life you will be sorry…'' he looked back at his wife whose head had been forced back of Moriarty's shoulder. ''Please'' he added

Moriarty gasped is mock surprise, ''Sherlock Holmes begging, oh this is going to be fun. Aren't you going to ask me what I'm gonna do?''

Sherlock squeezed his eyes shut in annoyance, ''what are you going to do?'' he gritted out,

''Well, seen as you asked, I was thinking I was gonna shoot her but thought; this is Sherlock's other half we're talking about, it would be too original. Then I considered stabbing her, twist the knife in her stomach until she bled to death and stained the floor with her blood, but then I thought; nah too messy and I can't drown her-'' whilst Moriarty was distracted, John slipped aside into the darkness. He had his phone in his pocket. ''-So I thought to myself, how can I make this interesting?'' Moriarty pretended to ponder, ''I mean, she's special so that would require a good send off, one that everyone will remember and then it suddenly occurred to me! We're in a power plant after all. What better way to die excitingly than by electrocution! YES!''

''No!''

Liz made a frantic sound as his grip on her tightened, ''how does that sound Lizzie? One thousand volts of electricity convulsing through your body'' she tried to pull away using his grip on her as leverage, her breathing coming quicker as she writhed in his grasp.

All at once, several things happened. Sherlock closed the distance between himself and Moriarty. John came up behind and grabbed for his arms as Sherlock started wrestling the gun out of his grasp – trying to point it down and Liz even managed to untangle herself just as the sound of a gunshot echoed throughout the room and they all stopped still.

Liz looked down, blood soaking through the front of her white blouse and turning it crimson. It was strange because it was as though she couldn't feel it, it was just numb.

Also, everything seemed to slow down, like it was happening in slow motion. She pressed a hand to her stomach, not really knowing what she was doing. The blood just seemed to seep through her fingers.

She registered shouting as the police burst in and John came up beside her, already switched into Doctor mode. He supported her weight as her knees buckled and pressed his hand over hers on the wound.

''Sherlock!'' he yelled and that was the last thing she remembered before blackness.

She woke up in hospital two days later feeling drained and heavy. Sherlock was asleep, slouched in the chair beside her and it was the most content she'd seen him look in months, even if he wasn't clean shaven or wearing a fresh shirt.

She glanced round the room as best she could. A bunch of Daffodils and a card were on the side table by her bed, she guessed they were from Mrs Hudson. She never did care for flowers that much, they never were any in the flat, but she couldn't deny they did brighten up the dull hospital room a bit.

There were also another bunch of flowers set on the table at the foot of her bed, red Tulips which she guessed were from John. The only person they could be from really seen as he was the only other one that knew they were her favourite beside her husband and she very much doubted they were from him.

Just then the door opened and John shuffled in carrying another bouquet, ''Oh your awake, how are you feeling?''

She tried sitting up but winced at the shooting pain in her side, her first reaction was to say 'how do you think I'm feeling?' but decided on ''terrible'' instead.

John frowned, ''you've been in and out of consciousness for days, couldn't make sense of you when you were awake, so doped up on painkillers. These were left at reception for you by the way'' he placed the flowers by his own at the end of her bed, ''from Mycroft''

She was surprised but said nothing, merely raised an eyebrow. She was still tired and the effort of vocalising her surprise at her brother-in-law sending her flowers seemed too much at the moment.

''What day is it?'' she croaked,

''Sunday, here'' he passed over a glass of water and held the glass whilst she sipped it, not actually realising how thirsty she was until the cool liquid reached her lips.

''So, what's the damage?''

''Well,'' John lowered himself in the chair next to Sherlock's, ''you went straight into theatre to remove the bullet… That took a while, but the doctors said it missed everything important so nothing major really, nothing that won't heal over time. He's been worried about you, you know'' he indicated to Sherlock with a curt nod. ''Not been back to the flat, he's been living of black coffee for the past two days, bloody idiot''

Liz chucked, ''are here's me thinking he'd gone all soft on me in his old age''

''Hm, not likely'' they both chuckled this time and then settled into a comfortable silence before Liz spoke again, a question that had been burning inside her since she awoke;

''What happened to Moriarty?''

John sighed.

''He disappeared… After the police turned up he just sort of… evaporated''

''People don't evaporate John, let's be realistic'' Liz turned to the source of the voice to see that Sherlock was very much awake, a small smile tugging the corner of his lips, ''how's the patient?''

He got up and folded his hands behind his back before inspecting his wife looking worse for wear and she almost laughed at the stubble conquering over his chin and jaw.

''I've been shot, how do you think?'' she retorted and the smile grew wider across his face.

''Bloody keep still woman!''

''Well it's a bit difficult when you keep poking and prodding me all the time!'' Liz defended, pushing his wandering hands away from her stomach.

''I'm trying to help, now sit still''

Liz huffed and flopped backwards on the couch whilst Sherlock attempted to remove her dressing. After two weeks she had been discharged from hospital on strict instructions that she take it easy for a while. Of course that part wasn't too difficult; her favourite thing to do was nothing at all and after re-joining the unemployed population it was only too easy. No, the hard part was keeping her cool whilst Sherlock tried to get a look at her practically healed wound. She'd already elbowed him in the face once for jabbing too hard.

She breathed in deeply as his cool hands unwrapped her bandage, fingers brushing lightly over the flesh of her warm skin. His face was held in concentration, brow furrowed, eyes narrowed and it amused her how he was practically glowering daggers at the angry scar underneath.

''Does it still hurt?'' he uses the pad of his thumb to brush across the raised flesh gently and there's no sensation there at all.

''I can't feel it'' she admitted.

He leaned forward slowly and brushed his lips across the wound just above her left hipbone. Resting his forehead on her stomach he sighed deeply and Liz could tell he wanted to say something, she knew he found it difficult – they both did. They'd known each other for nearly ten years, been married for almost six and she could probably count on one hand the number of times they'd said the words 'I love you' to each other.

''I could of lost you'' he said quietly

Liz combed her fingers through his thick curls, ''I know''

Quick footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs and Sherlock pulled back, gazing at his wife's half naked top half. ''You should probably put your shirt back on''

''Indeed, probably'' she chuckled.

''If you're gonna be awkward about it Sherlock then you can stay here''

''I'm not being 'awkward' as you put it. I merely don't see the appeal to socialise with a bunch of under intelligent morons about domestic things like mortgages and car insurance in the local boozer and frankly I don't think you should either''

''Yes you are'' Liz said simply whilst slipping into a pair of comfortable heels. It had been one month since her discharge from the hospital and even longer since her last drink. After weeks of being cooped up in the flat, she needed to get out. Even if it was only for a few hours.

''I beg your pardon?''

''Being awkward''

Sherlock sat up on the couch, wearing his suit trousers and shirt but with a silk dressing gown over the top, ''no I'm not''

''Fine. Stay put. See what I care,'' she slipped on her grey coat over her tunic, ''don't wait up''

''I won't'' he called as she headed for the stairs ''and don't pretend like you want to go, I know you're only in it for the free booze!'' the door slammed shut, leaving Sherlock alone to amuse himself.

03:12 am. The front door of 221b slammed shut followed by the unmistakable drunken footfalls of one Elizabeth Holmes. He could hear her cursing up the stairs as she dropped her keys then started giggling.

It took her a grand total of six minutes just to get to the second floor flat and would take a further three minutes to locate the ware abouts of the bedroom.

''Honey I'm hooooooooomee!'' she yelled, pulling off her coat clumsily and chucking it somewhere in the direction of the coat hook.

Sherlock was sat up in bed, fully clothed and had been playing his violin until about ten minutes ago. When Liz finally stumbled through their bedroom door he regarded her with a look of disapproval but made no attempt to get up and help her into bed.

She kicked off her shoes and started tugging at the back of her dress, barely noticing an irritate Sherlock watching her closely. ''Urgh, can't find the zip'' she mumbled, only half cross at herself as the other part of her found it incredibly hilarious, ''stupid zip… should have Velcro on these bloody…''

Sherlock sighed up at the ceiling as if to say 'God give me strength'

''Come here'' and she did with as much gracefulness as she could muster only to fall flat on her face on the mattress and across Sherlock's legs.

The bed sheets were cool against the flushed skin of her cheeks and she sighed happily, quite content to doze off right there. She heard Sherlock sigh wearily before feeling a cool pair of hands reach the back of her neck and tug the zip down, revealing more of her warm skin to the chilled air.

''Sit up'' she complied, turning over so she was lay on her back then with the help of Sherlock she managed to get herself in the upright position. He grabbed the hem of her dress then hitched it up over her frame and after much fumbling; he finally managed to rid her of her dress, leaving her perched on the edge of their bed in her underwear.

He then pulled back the covers on her side and helped her into bed, her head lolling on his shoulder but not before she hooked an arm round his neck and pulled him on top of her with a loud 'oof' and knocking the wind out of her.

She could still feel the mix of alcohol in her system making her eyes go all blurry and her coordination very off centred but that didn't stop her from undoing a few of his buttons.

''Liz, stop it. You're intoxicated'' he pulled his shirt out of her grasp so she started on his belt buckle instead.

''And?''

''It would be taking advantage''

''I really don't mind'' she purred huskily and tried again to de-clothe him of either shirt or trousers.

''Elizabeth!'' he snapped, once again swatting her wandering hands from his person but this time kept them pinned by her side,

''Ooh, I like it when we have it rough-,''

''What? No, I didn't, that's not what, your acting like a drunken teenager, now pull yourself together and stop this instant. A woman of your age should not be behaving like some adolescent dupe''

She blinked up at him and put on her best stern expression, ''what do you mean 'a woman of my age?'''

''Your 31, grow up'' he let go of her wrists and sat up, ironically noticing he was straddling her hips between his legs.

''That's still three years younger than you'' she pointed out childishly and he grinned. Elizabeth was never immature if she could help it.

He got off her legs to lie next to her and pulled the duvet up over them both, choosing to ignore her previous statement, ''you're going to have one hell of a hangover in the morning so get some sleep and try not to be sick in our bed''

Bit of fluff in that chapter, tried to keep it to a minimum ;D

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