Been a long time since I've had a completely new chapter up here. Hello again, it's been a while!

I've rewritten the whole of the rest of the fic so, while there isn't much difference to the current plot and where its eventually going (something I actually know now, shockingly), I have to advice that you read it the new stuff. Eventually I'll rewrite it again in a more thorough way, including a longer plot, more filler, more aliens and general improvements but not yet.

Used one of the weird nicknames K calls J occasionally. I may never use it again.

Also; this is never going to be finished by the time Empty Hearse is on in the UK. Sorry.

It took three agents to pull Sherlock off the consulting criminal.

"You're dead!" He yelled as they dragged him back. "I saw you kill yourself!"

Moriarty stood up, spitting out a globule of blood. He straightened out his suit then looked up at Sherlock and smiled. "Like your lovely pet doctor saw you throw yourself off the roof of St Bart's?"

"Don't you dare talk about John! You have no right!"

"I didn't betray him, Sherlock. He'd expect that from me. He trusted you."

Sherlock launched himself at Moriarty again, knocking him off his feet and managing to land a few more punches before agents dragged him away again. Moriarty giggled in that stupid, high pitched way that grated on every single one of Sherlock's nerves, despite the fresh bruises forming on his smug face.

"That just proves you know I'm right."

The former detective curled his fingers into a fist so tightly he felt his nails cutting into his hands.

"Why is he here?" Sherlock growled at Zed, trying and failing abysmally to keep his voice even. He'd seen this man, this utter bastard in front of him blow his brains all over the roof of Saint Bart's. Even Sherlock couldn't deduce how he could have survived that. "How is he here?"

"We needed experts, Holmes, and you weren't the only genius out there."

"Have you any idea who he is? What he's done?"

Zed raised an eyebrow, his own way of saying 'obviously'.

"He threatened my friends. He's the only reason I'm even here!"

Zed gave him a look, enough to strike fear into most of the inferior agents but simply kept Sherlock stood there fuming.

"That doesn't matter. What matters right now is that there's an invasion going on and you two are fighting like kids."

Moriarty gave another smirk at that remark and Sherlock barely managed to control the basic instinct to lunge at him again. Moriarty had ruined the life he'd only just started to get on track. J sensed Sherlock's anger and stepped between them silently, blocking the Irishman from the former detective's view.

"J, K, take Holmes to get a weapon." Zed said and turned to another agent. "F, take Moriarty up to the med bay to get cleaned up."

The two agents practically had to drag Sherlock, snarling, away from the others.

He finally turned to face them when Moriarty was out of sight and glared furiously. "The only way I could get rid of that idiot last time was by faking my own death! Have you any idea what he's capable of?"

"Worked with worse." J shrugged.

"The talking pug does not count as worse than a genocidal psychopath."

The other agent smirked. "Depends how long you have to work with him."

J obviously didn't believe him. Why would he? Sherlock had only been an agent for a few weeks but Zed had been his boss for over a decade.

"You won't have to work with him anyway." K shrugged. "Zed doesn't like agents murdering each other."

"He should be dead." Sherlock said quietly, his tone venomous.

"So should you."

"Only because of him." Sherlock muttered, then looked up again. "So, am I getting one of these weapons or what?"

K wandered up to one of the walls and pressed a button, the facade falling and revealing racks of guns that Sherlock could only have imagined in some of the crappy old science fiction films and TV shows John and Lestrade seemed to take some obscure pleasure in watching, not reality.

"Take your pick, son." K said with that usual slight smirk on his face.

"Hey, you never let me pick a weapon!"

K raised an eyebrow at him. "I wonder why."

"You're going to trust a psychopath with a Series Four De-Atomiser when I had to use a little Midget Cricket?"

"I'm not a psychopath." Sherlock said quietly, not looking away from his analysis of the various weapons covering the wall. He didn't add that he was a sociopath this time. He'd found out that he wasn't entirely a sociopath just before his last confrontation with Moriarty. He blocked out the argument between the two other agents, who were, after the amount of time they'd spent around each other, just bickering out of habit as opposed to malice.

His gaze hovered over the largest gun on the rack, the one he assumed to be the 'Series Four De-Atomiser' J was always talking about, and took it off the rack, wondering how much damaged a weapon like this could do to Jim Moriarty's face. It was probably a fair amount.

He lifted it up the face the opposite wall and fired it six times in quick succession

"What the hell're you doing?!" J shouted at the same time his partner yelled "You can't draw a smiley face on the wall with a Series Four De-Atomiser!"

"The evidence would suggest otherwise." Sherlock smirked, pleased with his artwork then picked another alien gun out of the wall, a tiny thing about the size of his phone, aiming it casually at J and K. "What about with this?"

The other two agents jumped to the floor.

"No!"

"And watch where you're pointing that thing!"

Sherlock smirked. Yes, these ones would be perfect for the job ahead, whatever that happened to be. Like the idiot that he was, Zed hadn't even told them who the enemy was yet, never mind the actual plan of attack. Sherlock refused to accept that they hadn't been told sheerly because he'd been beating the living daylights out of his nemesis, despite the fact that all the logic pointed that way.

"I didn't do that when I got the big gun and you still trust him with it more?" J said, raising an eyebrow.

K just gave him a Look, the sort of Look that required a capital letter. "You think we've got time for this, slick?"

J took his own and K's guns off the rack and glared at his partner as he handed it to him. "This isn't over."