Sebastian paced around his new living space. He'd been planning on staying here for a bit, to keep a watchful eye on his new game pieces. The fit man finally sat down on the dingy couch, drumming his fingers along the arm rest as he flittered from thought to thought. 'Take John and make Sherlock come? I could just take him, let him go, take him, let him go. That'd sure play with the mighty detective's sureness in himself. Or maybe I could throw in some torture...but that'd be no fun. John Watson is an army man, he'd know a lof my techniques. Perhaps snatching Sherlock and going through some treacherous things with him would work. Both men would put up a fight though. Hmm.' He smiled as he thought, pondering what would be the best starting move, the first play, a dangerous (but the least dangerous) action to get things moving.

After finally deciding on an idea that outshone all the others, he grabbed his coat and walked out of the convenient flat. It seemed that from his location, he would have enough time to make sure all the details and aspects of his new plan were in place. As he stepped outside he glanced a long way down the road to the glistening white mansion. He hummed as he turned around and headed to the hardware store. 'Let's see. Some rope, cutters, nails, hammer. Just the basics for now.' After that little snippet of thought he laughed out loud, and that laughed echoed throughout the posh neighborhood. The laugh was full of excitement, threat, and envy. It was untamable, uncontrollable, and Sebastian Moran just kept on thrusting the hideous laughter out into the air. He'd be the one to have the last laugh, if it was the last thing he did.

"I warned you. You should've been more careful."

"Do shut up, brother." Sherlock sneered, and crossed his arms against his chest. John sighed next to him, full aware of the sibling rivalry already pushing the two Holmes brothers into a fight.

"How can you say that after you both almost blew up! It was dangerous enough watching John, but then you go and save him and instead of trying to convince him it was a dream, you go and chase after him! You've been home a week and you've already compromised your and John's safety!" Mycroft cut his ramble short and glared at his younger brother, acting nonchalant as if nothing happened. But Mycroft could see. He could see the fear, betrayal, defeat, and worry all captured in the colorful iris' that belonged to Sherlock Holmes. Mycroft tutted and dusted off his jacket before setting his gaze back on the two reunited flatmates.

Sherlock seethed as he heard Mycroft speak. He knew he messed up. He messed up in the alley, messed up when they got back to the flat. It was unbelievably ridiculous that Sherlock had made so many mistakes. He tapped his foot and stood up abruptly.

"I know, Mycroft! I know." He paced, his hands wildly combing through his hair. He needed to send a message. Something to throw off his opponent. He jumped triumphantly as he thought of the perfect warning. He secretly accepted the possibility that this just might make Moran more likely to snap and attack, and discarded it just as quickly. No matter what he'd stay safe, with or without Mycroft Holme's help. He'd keep him and John safe.

John looked at Sherlock curiously. He didn't want to admit he was shaky from the day's most recent events and even a bit shaky knowing he was back in this battlefield with his flatmate. Running through London at night in the middle of a case, unconcerned for their wellbeing, and just throwing themselves into any scuffle. At the same time he relished it, this feeling of excitement and danger. The feeling of being someone, having a purpose. It was so relieving and exhilarating, and John Watson allowed himself to really grin for the first time in almost a year.

Sebastian returned home with all of his necessities, whistling to himself. Unlocking the door, he stepped inside and threw his coat on the sofa as he deposited his bags on the kitchen table. He turned around and for this first time in a long while he was shocked. His things were scattered everywhere, and his most favorite pieces of weaponry lay scattered in chunks as they had been undone, and emptied. The bubbling pit of anger within him grew even stronger as he saw the terrible graffiti that was sprayed lazily across the wall. 'Ah ah ah ah, stayin' alive, stayin' alive.'

He screamed as he gave in to the taunt. Not only was that Jim's old ringtone but it was a tease. Sherlock Holmes was bent on 'stayin' alive'. He was so sure of his capabilities that he came and decided to roll the dice and start the game himself with this little move. If this is what he wanted, he'd get it. The rough man started picking up the pieces to his guns and thought hard about how exactly he was going to take John Watson away from the world's loneliest consulting detective.

This is a teaser, and I'll update again on what actually happens tomorrow or the next day, much sooner than this! I'm sorry for the wait, and I thank you all for adding my story to alerts and favoriting, as well as comments! The support is lovely, and since I'm finally done with three final projects I will update and write more! Promise! I know this isn't the longest or greatest, but I hope you still enjoy it! Take ALL my love! Okay? Just take it! -C