Sherlock pushed the door opened, and frowned when the heavy door let out an annoying creak. It didn't seem to matter though, as it sounded like Sebastian was making enough noise himself. He could hear the smashing of glass and the pounding on the walls, as if he was trapped. Sherlock smirked as he knew what was getting to the man. It was fulfilling to have his and John's plan work so well. They had the distraction and that's all that they'd need to escape the situation. It was that same moment Sherlock realized why their enemy was losing his mind the next wall over. John had yes, used their idea but that had to mean John got hurt.

And so the tall pale man crept silently up the hallway, occasionally rapping on the wall in series of threes, starting to get desperate to find John. To his relief he heard the faint tap-tap in response, leading him to his blogger. When the tapping was loudest he opened the heavy dark door to his right and gasped when his eyes finally adjusted to the very dark lighting, even though he was expecting it.

He ran to him and hastily sliced at the ropes with his pocket knife until they ripped apart, falling to the floor around the bloodied chair. John was looking at the detective as he backed away to get a good look at the mess he'd made. Sherlock grew very, very angry as he saw how purple the left shoulder of John Watson was, and almost screamed when he saw the nail that was plunged deep into what was the army doctor's good shoulder. He hesitantly took a few steps closer to John.

"John?" his voice was so small, so silent that John almost missed it.

"Mm?"

"Do I take it out?" John looked down at his shoulder, most likely measuring the blood flow - which was little now - and how deep the nail was. With a pause, he finally nodded.

"Yes. I don't seem to be losing that much blood anymore, and I've seen things like this. It shouldn't gush or anything if it's removed. But you have to be quick, Sherlock. Like ripping off a bandaid." The urgent John Watson whispered as hushed as he could. He was anxious to get out of this dank place, and just go home with no interruptions for a while. With a groan he shook his head as he remembered they still had to contact Lestrade and tell them Sherlock wasn't gone. They'd have to take some time and actually discuss matters with their landlady as soon as she got back. So many things to do, so many distractions!

John watched Sherlock place three fingers around the flat of the nail, gripping it as much as he could. Those cold eyes looked into John's if to give warning, before he mouthed in silence, "Three...two..." and he yanked before the one had even been uttered. John started to yelp, and then a long, thin hand was shoved against his face to stop any more noise. The two flatmates looked at each other and then at the door. The thrashing from the other room had subsided, leaving only an eery silence that revealed the sounds of slow, paced footsteps creeping towards the very room there were in.

'Damn.' John thought, letting his rigid body sag back into his chair. He'd get up when he needed to.

Sebastian paused behind the door, finally letting his breaths escape. The ragged pants would be heard by the two men inside and he didn't care. They'd probably heard the footsteps too. He squared his shoulders and rolled his neck. With a satisfying crack he finished stretching, and kicked in the door.

"Well, well, well! Isn't this a nice, well I guess it's not really a surprise now, is it?"

"No it's not. Neither is you pulling this demented stunt." The detective chirped in.

"Now, now. You started this, Sherlock. With your little note. Cute." He took a step closer to the two men as he traced his knife blade across his fingertips lightly. To Sebastian, it sounded liked Sherlock let out a growl and he smiled. "Growl all you like, it won't help you." His voice was hardened now, serious. Two sets of blue eyes stared right through him, and he could've sworn Sherlock's would turn black any second. The blogger was frightening himself. With dim lighting you could see traces of dirt and blood smeared across him, with shadows cast across his eyes. Yes, very frightening...to anyone else.

"You're a complete nutter!" John exclaimed to the crazed man that stood there, still toying with the knife.

Sebastian narrowed his eyes and lost it. Just completely and utterly lost it.

It all happened at once. John flipped sideways out of his chair as the tall lanky detective tackled Moran, only to land on the knife that Sebastian still wielded as he fell. John scrambled over to the other two and his learned instincts came alive. He kicked the blade out of Sebastian's hand, probably breaking at least three fingers. Next he landed a foot on his ribcage, cracking maybe one, two ribs. "He's ours now. This is over." John thought as he landed his final blow on the straight nose, knuckles connecting hard. He heard Sherlock mumble something behind him.

"Lestrade, now!" It was hushed and slurred due to Sherlock's decreasing strength. John hurriedly ripped a piece of fabric from his t-shirt and blindfolded and tied his wrists together. John ran over to Sherlock and panic rose in his chest as he saw the wound.

"John, I'm fine! Don't look so bewildered."

"Sherlock, you do realize you just got stabbed and that you are just pouring blood right now, correct?"

"Of course, John. Don't be so daft." His eyes started close until he felt the stinging slap to his face. "John!"

"You know the drill, don't close your eyes. We're getting out of here, I mean he's..." John stopped short as he heard the clinking of metal and a couple short clicks. Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade had just handcuffed the gruff man.

"Greg?"

"Hello, John. Nice to see you again. It's been a little while since the nail gun case."

"Oh, um, yes it has. Sherlock i-"

"Oh do hush, John. It's not even that deep." The blogger and the inspector both shared looks of what the actual fuck and Lestrade spoke into his walkie-talkie.

"Need an ambulance, out side of the scene. Quick, thanks."

"But how did you- When Sherlock ju-"

"John, I told Lestrade a week ago! I knew we'd...need his assistance." Sherlock huffed, and pressed his scarf against the bleeding wound.

"Right, of course he did." John sighed and helped Sherlock apply pressure to the stab. "You know you have to stay in the hospital, right?"

"But John! You're a doctor! I hate hospitals." Sherlock's eyes widened and narrowed as he spit the words.

"Sherlock, you are a grown man. And it will only be a night at the most, so just deal with it!" John and Sherlock sighed and waited for the medical staff to arrive in the ambulance. Lestrade just gave them a few weird looks before checking around the rest of the flat with his crew.

"What should we do with him?" John whispered, suddenly very, very tired.

"Oh, I've got an idea. It's very general, and it helps that Mycroft has power. I think the most secure prison will keep this man entertained."

"Sounds fine with me."

"Of course it does." Sherlock rolled his eyes. Where better to put a criminal?

The two flatmates sat in silence, never taking their eyes off of the crumpled heap across from them.

OMG I THOUGHT I POSTED THIS ALREADY HOLY CRAP I AM SO SORRY AAH. How could I have not noticed? Thanks for all of the positive feedback, and for still sticking with the story. I'm thinking maybe one more chapter? I'm kinda losing this one, want it to end. UNLESS. Some of you don't want it to and if you want you could give me prompts for another chapter or something. Otherwise, I'M ENDING IT SOOO thank you for everything! :) I will be writing more, and I think I will start writing drabbles if you all start sending me prompts! It can be Johnlock (NO erotic stuff I swear to god you guys NO) or not or anything Sherlock. If you want to request. You don't have to. (but you should..) enjoy, and again, THANKS! :3 - C