While I appreciate all the views, alerts and favourites I've had for this story so far, reviews for it have been a bit low again. In fact they've often been fairly low for this story, which is a bit annoying since I really like reviews and am trying hard writing with this story as I know sometimes chapters aren't very eventful, but I do my best to keep it interesting. I'm sure those of you who have written stories on here find it disappointing when you don't get much feedback on something you've worked hard on, and I've found it does put a downer on your motivation.

So I just want to say it hardly takes 2 minutes to review something, and I'm really busy with homework, revision and other writing projects, so if I can keep on finding time to write chapters for this story, then surely a few more of you can find time to give just a little feedback, even just to say that you liked it or not :)

Anyway, that's my lecture over! Hope that didn't annoy you, but it was something on my mind so I thought I should say something, that's the best way to do things! I DO love each review I have received so far (special heads-up for Rainbowcapillaries for her regular, wonderful reviews and advice) and hopefully this chapter will give you something to review about, if I've done it right.

I've just edited it a bit more, so enjoy! And don't forget to review...

Hide and Seek

Silence and darkness press in on me in all directions. I've never been in so much darkness or silence since I jumped into the river, that's what it's like, complete and utter nothingness surrounding me and engulfing me. But it's meant to be dark and quiet, that's the plan.

Despite seeing and hearing nothing, I can still feel a presence not far from me. Sherlock is crouched somewhere nearby, silent as the grave. That's a horrible metaphor to use, because soon he may well be in a grave, again, but for real this time. The silence and the darkness is what could save both our lives though, according to the mad mind of the consulting detectives.

We are the only people in the house, Sherlock sent Mrs Hudson away, convincing her to stay with some friends. She wasn't pleased about it, but I think she had a feeling something was wrong or something bad was going to happen, so she didn't argue for too long. Soon though, someone else will come and join us, probably through the window again. They may expect it to be dark, but not this dark or quiet. That's the point, throw the assassin off his senses (Sherlock explained to me it is statistically more likely we shall be facing a male killer rather than a female one), without light or noise he shall be blind and deaf, defenceless in those aspects.

This gives us an advantage (though this is hard to believe, as I feel completely deaf and blind sitting here as well), because we know the area better than the assassin. We know where the sofa is, where the television sits, things to avoid while the assassin will be tripping over them, making plenty of noise so we can know where he is, but he won't know where we are hiding. We'll also have a good idea of which direction the different rooms are to run in, and where any extra weapons will be if we need them. We have a better chance of finding the light switch if things become desperate and we too need to see than the assassin.

God, I hope this works. I have to admit I'm not totally convinced, but I suppose knowledge is the best weapon we have right now. I feel like I'm back in Afghanistan doing a nightly patrol, you can feel the tension through the darkness as you wait and wonder if something might happen. This waiting game though, feels surprisingly different, but a lot of things have changed since I went to Afghanistan.

I'm sitting in the corner of the living room, trying to make as little noise as possible, which is surprisingly tricky, as I can hear my heart thumping madly in my ears and my deep, slow breaths. Despite being in life-threatening situations many times curtosey of either Sherlock or the Afghan war, the adrenaline still gets to you. Surely the neighbours can hear me, so the assassin will know exactly where I'm hiding when he comes. My legs went numb quite a while ago, which is not a good thing if I need to make a run for it. I'm not sure how long I have been sitting here in the darkness, as soon as Sherlock formed his plan we put it into action. Hours may have passed, and we will only know that we will be safe when the sun begins to rise behind the tightly shut curtains, and we will be safe for another day.

We cannot risk going to sleep, but there's no danger of that happening, I'm wide awake. In fact, I've not felt this alive for a long time, the whole event is almost exhilarating, just like old times.

But if something goes wrong, I could very easily end up dead.

More seconds tick past, or maybe it's been another hour. Time has joined in our deadly game of hide and seek, and I can't keep a track on it. I just try to keep patient and wait.

Suddenly, there's a creek. It's very quiet, but in the silence it's easy to hear. My eyes glance towards the direction of the window, knowing that's where it came from. There are a few, very small sounds of feet landing on the carpet and taking a few steps into the room.

The assassin is in the house.

I keep very still, but my heart beats even faster and a rush of fresh adrenaline fills my veins. I can't hear Sherlock moving, so I too remain motionless. I don't feel like I'm in too much danger, yet.

It's hard to tell, but I think the assassin is surprised to find himself surrounded by complete darkness and silence. He hardly moves from his position from the window, he's trying to get his bearings, which is tricky to do with nothing but darkness and silence.

I hear Sherlock shifting a little, preparing himself. The assassin must have heard it, as he takes another few steps forward into the middle of the room. I try to picture where he is standing, wondering how his current position could be used as an advantage for me.

I am not totally defencless against this man. I have my old pistol with me, which I had forgotten about for so long until Sherlock suggested it might be useful. It gives me a little extra comfort as it rests beside me on the floor. The trouble is, I cannot see my target, I can only picture him.

There is a quiet rustling of clothes as Sherlock stands up. He must be getting ready to attack, he said he would do this when the moment came if need be, and he probably knows the flat better than me and where the assassin is standing.

I'd hoped that the assassin would see how dark and quiet it is, assume we weren't at home, and leave. But he seems to know that we're playing a game with him, and wants to join in, so he's staying put. My heart starts thumping a little louder.

From the very small movements I can hear, the assassin is taking great interest in the direction of Sherlock. He has turned his head, he has taken a few more steps. I'm worried that the man's senses may well be better than ours, perhaps he can even see Sherlock. I decide to make a move.

I stand up as slowly and quietly as possible, gun now in hand, so I'm ready to defend myself if necessary, aware that my slight movements would distract the assassin.

This seems to work, the assassin stops moving in the direction of Sherlock. But he now knows roughly where the two of us are. I try to move away from my hiding position as quietly as possible, just in case the assassin decides to attack, then he will find I'm not there, that'll confuse him.

A voice in my head points out how this feels so stupid, playing this wild game of hide and seek in the dark, what made Sherlock think such a thing would work?

But it doesn't feel stupid when you think about what's at stake, and there was a time when I trusted Sherlock, I still should.

The assassin has fallen very still. I can picture three men standing motionless in a dark room, waiting for something to happen. The silence and the stillness has made me lose track of things, I can't remember where I thought the assassin was, or where Sherlock had moved to. I start to feel a little helpless, and I hate feeling helpless, but I can safely assume that the assassin is not close enough to me to cause any damage, and I would assume he's not foolish enough to start firing in the dark. Still, I keep my gun close at my side.

Suddenly something makes a swift movement right in front of me. I hear the sound of a knife being pulled from a sheath. It's the assassin, and he's definitely too close to comfort.

I don't know whether I imagined it or actually saw it through the darkness, but there was a flash of a blade as it whizzed through the air towards my stomach. I leap backwards just in time and the knife cuts through empty air.

I don't care how much noise I make now, I just know I need to get away from the assassin, so my mind and body swings into action and I make a run for it. I dash across to the other side of the room, even running over the sofa to do so. I can hear the assassin close behind me, chasing me, the unseeing obstacles blocks his way a little but this man is determined. I hear something on the other side of the room - Sherlock has joined in the chase, going after the assassin before he can catch me.

I manage to make it over the other side of the room to the doorway of the kitchen (we had left all the doors swinging open so we could get through quickly if we needed), but I can't run and try to hide again, because my the sound of it the two other men have collided with each other and are now having a furious fight in the dark. The two had thumped into each other as the assassin had run towards me and it now sounded like they were having some sort of wrestle. I desperately want to know what's going on and where exactly they are, but I can't turn a light on as the assassin would immediately be able to see his target.

I'm starting to feel hopeless again, which makes me angry. I will not let this assassin get to me. I try to think clearly.

Then I remember the knife the assassin had been holding in his hand, and I can't stand and listen any longer. It won't be long until that knife finds its way into his chest or throat...Yet still my gun is frustratingly useless, as I also can't find my target and I wouldn't dare risk hitting Sherlock. It is a bit like being in the army again, as quick decisions are everything. In the end, I make a quick decision and rush forward to help...

And run straight into Sherlock and the assassin. They had been fighting a lot closer than I thought - right by the stairs in actual fact - and when I hurtle into them one of them is knocked completely off balance. He gives a cry of surprise and then there are several loud and horrible thuds as he tumbles down the stairs.

Then there's silence.

Panic starts to rise inside me as I can't see who's at the bottom of the stairs. It could be Sherlock.

Oh God, I might have just killed Sherlock!

I fumble in the darkness for a light switch, finally finding one and clicking it on.

The sudden, bright light burns my eyes, but I try to look past it and instead at the body. Once my eyes get used to the light I breathe a sigh of relief.

It's the assassin. His face is half covered by black material to hide his features and the rest of him is dressed in black too so I can't recognise him, but I probably wouldn't anyway. His body is sprawled at an odd angle as he lies motionless at the bottom of the stairs.

I don't like the way his neck looks horribly out of place. I'm pretty sure he's dead.

A hand suddenly lands on my shoulder, making me jump. I look up to see the worried eyes of Sherlock.

"Stay there John," he says hurriedly, "everything's going to be fine. Sit down and stay still."

"What?" I glance up at him, confused, as he runs over to the kitchen. Of course everything's going to be fine, we caught the assassin, we stopped him and we managed to survive, we've saved Mrs Hudson and Lestrade from a terrible fate. Why is Sherlock acting so worried and running around for? It's over.

But then I look down at myself, and realise why Sherlock was so worried.

The assassin didn't miss with his knife, either that or when I ran into the pair of them I ran into the knife as well. There is a thick line of red liquid seeping through my white shirt, just across my stomach.

I just manage to mutter an "oh" before the shock makes me lose balance and I fall to the floor with a thud.

I can hear Sherlock shouting to me from the kitchen, trying to comfort me and asking me questions, but my brain can't quite work out what he's saying. Like adrenaline, wounds are also something that still gets to you, no matter what the situation, and I've never been stabbed in the stomach before. I'm so glad I don't feel any pain.

I feel like I'm at the bank of the river again, Sherlock's still trying to get my attention but I couldn't care less. There's no cold this time, but my mind has started to grow dim, I feel foggy and stupid as I watch the line of blood get thicker and redder as the seconds tick by.

Panic rises up in me as I remember that this is not a good thing, but then it strangely disappears again before I can act against it. My eyelids start to droop.

My mind keeps on flipping back to the moment on the river bank while Sherlock keeps on shouting at me, but I don't have the energy to reply.

My feet slip on the muddy bank of the river at the same time as I suddenly slip into darkness.