"John, I..." Sherlock started but John put a hand up, breaking eye contact as he walked between the two men and out of the room.

"I'm going to bed. Please don't keep me up." Sherlock didn't follow John, not willing to leave Moriarty alone. He heard the click of a door closing and he turned to Moriarty who looked utterly amused.

"John and I live here. If you do anything at all to make it difficult for either of us, or jeopardize our lives in any way, I'll take you to Lt. Lestrade myself." Sherlock said, deadly calm. Moriarty nodded solemnly, knowing pushing Sherlock when John was involved was close to suicide.

Sherlock knew Moriarty wouldn't try anything simply by his reaction to the threat. He turned on his heel and followed John, determined to not make a huge mess.

As is won't of most humans, John was emotional. Sherlock never had a reason to care or even notice such things before John but now he was determined, almost constantly, to make things right to John. Sure, he didn't understand that calling John's brain average was rude most times, but he could tell when his flatmates feelings became hurt and he normally knew how to make it better.

Having walked into the flat and seen Moriarty and Sherlock talking, if not fully calm, must have been too much for John to accept. Sherlock heard the shower and sighed. He opened the door. What did it matter? John had no anatomy that differed from his, even if he was shy about it.

"John I must explain myself to you." Sherlock declared after closing the door behind himself. John started violently, an elbow hitting the shower wall.

"Bullocks Sherlock! I'm stark naked! You can't just barge in here!"

"I already did. To the point, I need you to listen to me."

"I heard you the first time, and no, I don't. You're a grown man, though you rarely act like it." He poked his head from the curtain, wet fingers gripping the curtain to keep it from showing anything more. "I am aware of how you see the world, Sherlock. If you want to have a psychotic murderer, who, by the way, attempted to kill us both on many occasion, over for dinner or drinks, that's fine. I'm not your mother." He tried pulling back but Sherlock's hand wrapped around his wrist quick as lightning.

"No, John. I need you to listen to me." The look in his eyes must have done it because John sighed deep and nodded.

"Fine but give me a second to get out, ya?" Sherlock nodded, letting his wrist go and stepping back. He went into the hall, closing the door. Moriarty was at the end of the hall, his hands behind his back. Sherlock thought for a moment but came to the conclusion that he was without weapon, yet far beyond harmless.

He stepped closer to Moriarty who readied to step to the side to let the man pass. Sherlock stopped a good five feet away.

"If you want my help, you're going to have to listen." Moriarty nodded, a look of serious determination crossing his face. Sherlock questioned why the man was so set upon hiding from this one murder rather than disappear elsewhere just like the ones he had actually committed. "You'll sleep on the couch. No food without permission, or drink. The windows are obviously not a good place to stay."

"I know how to hide out. As well as be respectful, Sherlock. Please do me the honor of not treating me like a simple minded-man."

Sherlock stared and nodded a small bit. "Just remember," he said softly, "John is not a toy for you. You will leave him be." Moriarty nodded, though Sherlock could see a small smile on his face as the man turned and went down the stairs to the living room.

John came out of the bathroom momentarily afterwards, locating Sherlock before heading towards him. They went to John's room where the door shut and John bustled about getting ready for bed.

"You can explain whenever, Sherlock, I won't stay up all night." John quipped and Sherlock shifted, for he'd been standing stiff next to the door, trying to gauge if John's mood was from the date or Moriarty.

"He needs help." Sherlock said and John started laughing so hard Sherlock paused.

"That's rich, honest. Does he expect us to help him? Is he trying to run from a murder he committed again?"

"He didn't do it, John." Sherlock said softly. The tone of his voice shut John up and he looked over, studying the mans expression.

"How do you know?"

"I can tell." There was a pause in which John made the motion for Sherlock to continue. "I know he's a liar, therefore I won't take everything he says to be honest. but I know he didn't kill the woman. She was dead and he checked her pulse. A couple came along and he said he ran. His fingerprints are on her neck. I told him he could use the couch and that he needed to stay away from you."

"You didn't even consult me first!" John exploded, unsure why he did so, considering he was kind of okay with it, Sherlock could tell. Maybe he shouldn't have said yes to Moriarty so quickly.

"John, he needed an answer and I knew I could keep him from you. If you want, I can send him away." Sherlock turned to go do just that but John sighed and ran a hand over his own face.

"No, it's fine. I'm tired and I'm going to bed. Let me know if Lestrade calls about the woman."

Sherlock nodded and left the room. At least John was aware they might get the call. He wasn't happy about Moriarty but he trusted Sherlock enough to know he was safe. For some reason, knowing the amount of trust John had in him, Sherlock felt warm inside. It was a strange feeling, that's for sure.

On the couch in the living room, Moriarty sat. Sherlock grabbed a blanket and a pillow for the man and said he could have anything to drink through the night. No need to waken anyone just because he was thirsty. He also talked through the rooms there were, letting him know which were the bedrooms just to stay away.

After Sherlock had gone to his own room, he checked his phone. No messages but that was a given. One dead body wouldn't raise so much suspicion. Not until they found the fingerprints. Then he would definitely be getting calls or texts.

In the living room, Moriarty rose from the couch. He would have to be quiet. Just because he needed to use the restroom didn't mean he needed Sherlock sniffing at his ankles.

After relieving himself, Moriarty walked to John's room and stared at the closed door. What was the obsession? Why was the emotionless, hard Sherlock so obsessed with a war doctor? He touched the door just barely, fingertips grazing the wood. Without possibly anger Sherlock enough to throw him at the police, he couldn't go inside and check the doctor out.

He quietly went back to the couch and lied down. It was hard for him to settled, considering where he was, but he at least got a few hours so he wasn't in trouble the next day.

Sherlock listened to Moriarty. The soft steps led to the bathroom and then, as they got closer to John's room, Sherlock left his own bedroom. He stood around the corner, ready to move forward at any second. His muscles bunched as Moriarty's hand rose to the door but not the handle.

To Sherlock's confusion, Moriarty turned and quietly left to go to the living room, where Sherlock heard him settle upon the couch. For a few minutes, he waited just in case Moriarty suspected being watch and came back, but decided he'd hear him again if it did happen. Sherlock didn't sleep at all.