To say Moriarty was upset about having to give himself up, virtually, would be putting it lightly. He groaned angrily, but not protesting, as the three men readied themselves for the road ahead them.

Sherlock was talking through Moriarty, telling him exactly what needed to be done. He was telling the man exactly what the story was so Sherlock and John didn't end up in trouble for harboring him in their flat. Moriarty was groaning about being treated like an imbecile, informing Sherlock he knew exactly what needed to be done. John stayed away from them both, getting his coat on and waiting to leave, for fear of being brought into this, lest it lead to blows.

Eventually, Sherlock was satisfied that Moriarty knew what to do, even though they'd yelled quiet loudly at one another for over ten minutes, Moriarty left. To avoid being seen and put into connection with the detective and doctor, Moriarty left outside the back way, rarely used. He was to show up very shortly before John and Sherlock themselves, hopefully keeping the surprise at Moriarty actually showing up somewhat down.

Giving five minutes to the man, John and Sherlock left the flat and headed off to where the hostage situation was.

"You are sure no one would have seen him leave the flat?" John asked curiously, hands in his pockets.

"I'm not sure. But I am sure it wouldn't matter. Most people who may have seen him leave possibly wouldn't connect the dots. Besides, he left from the back, remember?" John shrugged one shoulder, following his flat mate.

In almost record time, given Sherlock was anxious to make it to the situation before it escalated with the arrival of Moriarty, the boys showed up. Certainly, as planned, Moriarty was being shouted at to get on the ground by Lestrade and Anderson, a few other nameless officers behind them with their guns up. Moriarty looked rather bored, hands hanging to his sides. He neither acknowledged the officers nor seemed to be ignoring them. Simply staring at them like they were speaking a different, alien language.

"Lestrade!" Sherlock called when they came within earshot. The mans head spun sharply, surprise lighting up his face as Sherlock and John walked up quickly, barely second glancing Moriarty across the street.

"We came, figuring you'd need extra help." Sherlock said calmly, clasping his hands behind his back. John licked his lips, showing nervousness as he eyed Moriarty who took on a serious expression. It was necessary to act like they hadn't lived in the same space, so Moriarty was to be just as hate-filled to the two men as ever.

"I... did you get Moriarty to come?" Lestrade asked incredulously.

"I may have hinted to one of his spies that a hostage situation was abroad. I figured he'd hear it and wonder exactly why this woman wanted to speak to him, of all people. He's not exactly a saint to confess to towards the end of life."

"Yes, well, I..." Lestrade was about to say something when a shout, feminine scream rang through the air. Everyone looked up to the balcony of the building they surrounded. A woman wearing a flowing pink dress stood on the top. Three stories up, she stood, obviously in heels. Sherlock narrowed his eyes, catching the faintests of hints that someone was behind the woman.

"Is Moriarty here yet?" The woman called out, her voice shaky.

"She wasn't there when we showed up." John murmured and Sherlock agreed with a nod of his head. "Must have screamed when she realized what she had to do."

"She's been up and down that rail for the last hour or so." Lestrade commented, gaining a look from both men. "Every time she goes up, she demands Moriarty and spend a few minutes teetering back and forth. We brought a safe-fall in but the woman holding her hostage threatened to shoot her before she pushed her if we set it up."

"Have you sent anyone into the building?" John inquired and Lestrade nodded. Anderson was still keeping a sharp eye on Moriarty, the only person still worried about the man. Everyone else was looking up at the woman, soft sobs falling to their ears.

"There's women threatening murder and violence at every entrance. After the second attempt, we were threatened that all hostages would be killed if we tried again. We called for a negotiator but they refuse to listen to anyone but Moriarty."

Sherlock frowned in thought. John eyed Moriarty, wondering if the man was curious enough about their intent to put himself in danger of them. Maybe not, but then again he did have more than one of his screws loose. Maybe all of them.

Without a word to anyone, least of all Sherlock, John spun and walked to Moriarty. His soft stance stiffened and his face hardened as John came within a few feet. He heard Anderson and them yelling behind him to stop and come back. He downright ignored them. Moriarty's face had the slightest trace of a smirk as John stopped.

"You're going to go up there."

"Why would I do such a thing like that? I know why they're killing people and this is their last stand, seemingly. I should just slip away."

John didn't know what he was doing. Maybe having Sherlock kiss him, maybe knowing the man actually cared for something, which so happened to be him, maybe the last few weeks living with Moriarty gave him courage. Maybe realizing that so many people have been murdered and the only person who could possibly stop it was a crazed, emotionless maniac gave him belief that he needed to do anything. Before he could stop himself, John spun and rushed over to Anderson.

The officer looked shocked, therefor when John grabbed the gun and twisted, Anderson released almost immediately. John spun back around, noting the surprised look on everyone's face, including Sherlock. He held the gun up to Moriarty's eye level and stalked across the street until the gun was flush with the psycho's skin.

"You are going to go into the building and save those women." Johns voice was dangerously calm and Moriarty eyed him, obviously judging if the threat was serious. "And if you think I won't shoot you, just remember that I've killed someone for Sherlock and you've threatened his life more times than I'm willing to forgive."

Moriarty's eyebrows rose. "How many times is that?"

"All of them. Now get moving." The smile that started across Moriarty's face angered John so much, his skin crawled. He pointed the gun down and shot between the mans' feet. He heard Lestrade call out, could vaguely make out Sherlock's voice as well, but he didn't care. He'd already broken a few laws without thinking so what was so bad about trying to save a few people's lives before he finished his criminal spree?

"What if the women held hostage are apart of the cult? There are actors out there not on TV, I'm sure you are aware." Moriarty said, his face having showing, for only a moment, utter surprise and a tad bit of fear after John had shot the ground.

"Then I guess we'll find out, won't we?" He twitched the gun, letting Moriarty know he need to start moving.

Surprisingly, the psycho actually started heading forward. Lestrade finally realized what was happening and grabbed a bull horn to which he aimed upwards.

"Moriarty is finally here. Would you like him inside?"

"SEND HIM IN!" Came the reply and a loud, surprised scream filled the air as the woman on the rail was violently pulled back inside, the door slamming shut so hard everyone heard it.

Moriarty paused, making it seem like he was going to change his mind. John shoved his arm against the back of both of his shoulders, forcing him forward.

"Don't play me, Moriarty." John hissed. Moriarty took it and continued forward without another need for urging.

Moriarty mumbled something as they came up to one of the doors, a woman with a large gun in her hands motioning them to wait.

"What did you say?" John inquired. Moriarty turned sideways slowly, letting John know he wasn't going to do anything that might trigger John to get defensive and possibly shoot.

"I said you and Sherlock are made for one another." John stiffened, trying but failing to show how shocked he was. Moriarty didn't seem to notice. "He's the intelligence that solves the problems. And you are there for the force."

"Force?"

"You're holding a gun to me in order to attempt saving a handful of women who may die anyway." John felt heat rise in his cheeks, but it wasn't embarrassment.

"I do what I need to."

"In order for Sherlock to not have to get his hands dirty, allowing his intelligence to stay the way it is, you pick up the gun. He needs you." John blinked rapidly, unsure how to respond to that. When he didn't reply, Moriarty smirked. "I know you like him, dumb ass. Just keep him safe for me, okay? I don't want to be beating a corpse when I get free again. Somehow."

John opened his mouth but was stopped short of saying anything when the woman opened the door and told, in a not so kind of a voice, for Moriarty to get inside.

When Moriarty was inside and the door closed, the woman motioned that John better leave or she'd splatter his brains. John didn't take telling twice, so he slowly backed away until he felt comfortable, then he turned around and walked back to Anderson. He had a sour look on his face as John gave back his firearm. Sherlock was expressionless and John walked up to where he and Lestrade stood.

Lestrade looked at John, obviously furious. Instead of the angry chewing-down he expected, Lestrade simply nodded at him and looked up at the balcony.

It would be a long few hours before anyone knew what was happening inside the building.