Chapter 39: The Mousetrap.

"Her heart began to beat quick with excitement as she went on. "It's a great huge game of chess that's being played—all over the world—if this is the world at all, you know."

-Lewis Carroll, Through The Looking Glass.

"Are you ready?" The voice was loud in his ear, and John winced, reaching a hand up to the custom-made earpiece, adjusting the volume. "Jawwn, answer me." The mutilation of his name made him roll his eyes, before the knots in his stomach reminded him of where he was, and why.

"Yes, I'm ready," John said. "At least, I think I am…"

"You're going to do fine. Just act natural."

"Right. Natural with a dash of mass murderer."

"Yeah, that's about right."

"Thanks, Jim," John said, and took a deep breath. In. Out. Okay, he can do this. He can go out there and act this act and play his part, even with those all-too familiar piercing eyes on him. He's rehearsed it a hundred times and Jim has given him the okay. It'll all be fine. He can do this.

He adjusted his jumper.

He fixed his hair.

He smoothed out a wrinkle in the fabric of his jeans.

"Johnny boy, you're delaying."

"No, I'm-" Alright, maybe he was. "Yes, okay, I'm ready. Tell me where to go."

"Walk down the stairs on your left. Third door on the right." John's feet were loud against the concrete. He tapped down the steps and went through the door, looking down as the floor changed to tile. Then he looked up and started laughing. "Yes, yes, Johnny, where we first met. Very romantic and all that. Now hurry, or we'll lose him. Get through the door on the far side, and the spotlight is on you. No pressure!" The last word was sung out in a fashion that was so Jim that it made John smile. This time, he didn't allow himself to hesitate.

He walked across the room with the sure, measured steps of a military man. He pushed open the door, and walked out, turning to face the man who had just come through the set of doors across from him.

"Evening. This is a turn-up, isn't it, Sherlock?" The water in the pool swished quietly, a mockery of waves on a beach. Sherlock stared at him, clearly horrified.

"John?"

"Yeah."

"You told me to come here?"

"Who else? Come on, Sherlock, deduce it. Don't make me say it." Sherlock just stared back at him, and eventually John sighed. "I am M, idiot." He could hear Jim giggle at that, which was a tad distracting. "Didn't expect that, did you?" he continued. "That maybe, maybe, you leaving wouldn't be the best thing for me? Maybe jumping off a building in front of me wouldn't be so constructive for a cheerful attitude towards mankind?"

"I'm-"

"If you're about to tell me you're sorry, don't bother. You opened my eyes, Sherlock, taught me a lesson that I needed. Everyone dies in the end, you see, and there's only two choices in the end. You can die uselessly, from some sort of disease, or the failing of your own body." Sherlock's eyes were still disbelieving. John smiled, the same smile that had greeted Sherlock what he made a neat deduction, or remembered how John took his tea, the same smile that was turned on patients and girlfriends alike.

"Or they go out with a bang!" he continued, still with that sincere, open-book smile. "And don't you think the second option is much more fun? Like you, you went out spectacularly. Blood on the pavement and everything." John shook his head, knowing that it had all been an act. All a trick. "More people should die like that."

"But this is wrong, can't you see that it's wrong?"

"Oh, Sherlock, do you really care about labels like that?" This was a bit of improvisation. The character, which John had aptly described as 'natural with a dash of mass murderer,' was addicting to play. Just familiar enough to be easy to slip into, but more powerful, more uncaring. "I'm going to guess that you deleted your conscience a long time ago."

"I know what you would have said. You would have said that this was wrong."

"And yet here I stand. I'm not so different, really. Still a doctor, still a soldier, I just command a bigger group now."

"I don't know you," Sherlock said coldly.

"Don't give me that," John replied, taking a step forwards. The other man's hand twitched slightly towards his hip. They were both carrying guns, obviously. But John was pretty sure that Sherlock wasn't going to shoot him. That was the whole point of this whole thing, after all. "You've known me for years. John Watson, favorite color red, cream in my coffee, strawberry jam over raspberry, knows nothing about art, can't tie a bowtie to save my life."

"John…" Sherlock's voice was almost pleading, wanting him to stop, but unable to ask.

"I found out a lot about you, after you died. About your parents, about your old friends, about a few lost years. You read everything about me on my clothes and my face, and even after spending years with me, you gave me nothing. It was almost enough to make me hate you, everything I found out!" John let his voice rise to a shout, pushing the guilt and memories at Sherlock together, making them inseparable. Jim's laughter was almost constant now; the real criminal mastermind was enjoying all of this far too much for his own good.

"But I don't hate you," John said evenly. "I could never hate you, not really. And you're the same way, despite all this mess. Am I wrong?" There was silence. "Come on, you're a little bit pleased. A new opponent, someone to make sure that you never get bored." Sherlock still didn't reply. "I miss you, you know," John added, dropping the hook.

"I miss you too, John," the other man replied, right on the mark. Perfect.

"I know. So… why don't we have tea sometime? You, me, and Jim."

"What?"

John couldn't help but savor the blankness on the consulting detective's face. He still enjoyed surprising him, being one of the only people to have had the pleasure on a regular basis. "Well, he'd probably feel left out, if it was just the two of us. And he was so kind as to let me take his position…"

"Moriarty. He's still alive?"

"And enter stage right," came the voice in John's ear, and then the sound cut off, replaced by the creak of a door across the pool. "Well of course I am," came the familiar lilt as Jim walked out from his old spot, sauntering towards them. "Hi…!"

"Ugh, bad memories," John muttered. "Still haven't forgiven you for those snipers," he told Jim.

"Oh yes, I know," Jim said. "That's alright, you put pepper on my spaghetti without asking me first, so we're even."

"I'm not sure that exactly balances out," John said dubiously, and then looked over at the taller man, who was watching them. "See? You, me, and Jim. I'm not asking you to join our side or anything. Just a cup of tea on neutral territory. He's retired, I promise. Practically harmless, I call the shots."

"Excuse you," Jim said, looking sideways at his companion. "I'm still a better criminal mastermind than you will ever be, how dare you call me harmless."

"I've got the larger empire, don't I?" John retorted, and grinned, because Jim looked seriously ticked off at not being able to correct him in front of Sherlock. "Alright, fine, you're very deadly. I'm sorry that I called you harmless."

"Never forget it," Jim grumbled, somewhat calmed.

"Retired?" Sherlock finally interjected, eyes flickering between them.

"Yep! After I faked my death, it turned out to be easier to stay dead. It gives Johnny's new organization the chance to slip under the Iceman's nose, and God knows that gives me immense satisfaction."

"So you gave all your resources to John, who used them to create another empire," Sherlock said slowly.

"Exactly," Jim and John said in unison, and the real criminal mastermind giggled.

"Jim's an extra consultant," John explained with a shrug. "I figure out most of the problems, but he's like a senior advisor. Experience is helpful, history repeats itself. You know how it goes."

"Yes," Sherlock said, his gaze still flickering between them as though he wasn't sure which of them to stare at. "Yes, the wheel turns, nothing is ever new."

"So, what about that tea? I promise I won't drug it, I only do that when one of my consulting genii are staying up for too many nights and refuse to sleep." Both Sherlock and Jim shot glares at the doctor, being reminded of past incidents.

"It'll be fun!" Jim said, turning to Sherlock. "We'll pay."

You'll pay," John corrected Moriarty.

"I…." The two consulting criminals, one false and one true, looked to the consulting detective expectantly. "Yes, fine. We'll go for tea. But it's going to be at 221B."

"Sounds perfect," John said genuinely. "We'll take our car and meet you there. I'd offer you a ride, but I wouldn't want to expose you to Jim's driving."

"That's... fine," Sherlock said.

"See you in five minutes!" Jim said cheerfully, and turned away.

John gave Sherlock a small, sincere smile, and then followed the other man out. He could feel the detective's eyes on him, until the door closed behind them.

"Okay, so we've got him to have tea with us. I don't understand what happens next. If we get him on our side, you're both going to be bored, and that would be no good."

"Honestly, Johnny, do I have to run you through it again?" John nodded firmly. "I set up the puzzles, the crimes, and Sherlock solves them, just like old times, except I'm going to make them look like your ideas. I know you well enough by now to manage it, and if I need your help, I'll ask. Sherlock won't really want you caught, because he's hopelessly in love with you, and he won't take me, because you would hate him for it."

"Alright, so we're at eternal stalemate, that's no good either."

"Exactly. It's a game with no stakes, just a pretense to keep up, a little game to ease the boredom. Meanwhile, we get together with Sherlock every once in a while, keep him close. Once we're ready to get out, we can convince him to retire at the same time. If the alternative is trying to get you killed or caught, he'll take the easy way out, and we all go home happy."

"That sounds disturbingly perfect," John said doubtfully. "I must be crazy."

"Or you wouldn't have come here, darling," Jim sang. "Now don't forget the seatbelt."

A/N: Hey-o, people. Sorry about the wait-time, damn school is keeping me busy. Well, I'm here now! Let me know what you thought of this chapter. I know that making John pretend to be the criminal mastermind is a kind of risky move, a lot of people may not like it. So tell me, one way or another! I love to hear from you.

Hey, on another note, I'd "only" need 25 more favorites to make it to the first page of Jim/John stories. Two months ago, I would have said that was impossible, but with 69 down, I'd say that 25 isn't too much to hope for anymore. I think that's one of my life goals now; get on the first page for a particular category. (Hint: you could help)

Oh, and randomplotbunny, thanks for reviewing so long after I posted a chapter. It reminded me that it had been a while!