'Ello!

Oh my gosh, thankyou all for reading, and favourite-ing and making me feel super special! Love you all!

So here we have a super fast update!

Chapter 8

"Wait!" John called, as Scout was about to leave the bridge,

'What?" the blue eyes fixed onto John's back as he managed to turn the steering wheel again,

'Tell them,' John had to cut himself off because of the strain of trying to turn their boat at their current speed,

'Tell who?" Scout asked, wondering whether John was cracking under strain before dismissing that thought as quickly as it occurred,

'Sherlock and the others," The last word was a grunt as, for the second time, the place lit up and another missile locked onto them,

"What do I tell them?"

'That we're under attack and need them up here," John said, his eyes fixed on the water ahead as he lost the lock; the annoyance and pure frustration in his voice all too clear. Without any other words, Scout nodded and left the bridge.

"You-deserve-an-award!" Lestrade chocked out, recovering from the laughter, as he heard the shouting above them. Sally nodded her agreement,

'You do," She added and Sherlock grinned. But as footsteps approached them, he sensed that something wasn't quite right. Scout appeared, his perfectly made hair ruffled, and a bruise forming on his neck. For a second, Sherlock wondered what he and John had been doing up there when She also noticed the tear in the previously immaculate uniform,

"What's going on?" Sherlock asked and Scout took in their faces, realising that they were responsible for the loss of control. He shoved it to the back of his mind for later reprimand,

'We're being pursued, we need your help upstairs," Even as he explained the situation to them, the boat turned again, throwing all of them, except Sherlock, against the far near the bathroom. Scout picked himself up as Sherlock got to his feet,

"Is John driving?" Sherlock asked and Scout nodded,

"We need your help," He said again, helping Lestrade to his feet. All laughter had disappeared as the seriousness of their situation hit home,

"What do we need?" Sally asked,

"Fireworks," Scout said, and without saying anything else, he led them out. Even Sherlock wasn't entirely sure what they were about to do.

On the bridge John was displaying his army pedigree as he managed to mutter every curse he could possibly think of and direct it towards the boat that was somehow gaining on them, despite the Bloodgold being the lighter and faster vessel. "Bloody wankers," John muttered as another missile lock focused on them. If these people were so damn eager to blow them out of the water, John thought, they could at least have the decency to do it a bit more personally.

"Who's a wanker?" Lestrade asked walking in with a box full of fireworks, closely followed by the others, Sherlock carrying the least because he deemed it fit.

"You don't want to know," Sherlock purred, almost absentmindedly – a state that no one had ever seen him in before today – he was completely transfixed by the sight of John, standing at the controls, legs spread apart. He had abandoned the seat because it was far too hard to drive while sitting. John allowed his eyes to meet Sherlock's slightly dazed ones and wondered why on earth Sherlock looked like he had been hit.

"Are you okay, Sherlock?" John asked, oblivious to the fact that his very presence was debilitating to the detective. This is turning into an unhealthy obsession, Sherlock thought, finally managing to look at what the others were doing, as he ignored John's question. Sally was staring at Scout as he tied the fireworks in bundles, "Why exactly are there fireworks on this boat?" she asked, as John deployed the torpedo decoys. "Why,' John grunted as he spun them again, as a spray of water exploded into the air, the torpedoes hitting each other with a colossal boom, the shockwaves resonating through the hull, momentarily sending the radar into overdrive before asserting itself. While Sally and Lestrade jumped, the other three men barely flinched and John finished his sentence, ignoring Sally, "Is this boat only equipped for defence?" John glanced back at Scout, "Are you almost ready?" John asked,

'Yep," The young sergeant replied.

Sally decided that she would not be ignored, "Why are there fireworks on this boat?" she repeated and, much to her surprise, Sherlock answered. "This was part of the launch flotilla for New Year's Eve," He said. John actually turned to look at him,

"How the hell do you know that?" the doctor asked,

'You were on your army website, and this was a random piece of trivia on the screen. I read it,"

'And memorised it?" Lestrade asked,

'Yeah," Sherlock said, as if it were complete normal,

'What are you planning to do with this...these fireworks?" Lestrade asked,

"We're using the General Foley Move," Scout said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. He received three blank stares in return for his trouble,

'How can you not-" He didn't get to finish because John, using all his body strength, turned the boat in the nick of time. They felt the force from the passing torpedo as it cut through the water a few millimetres from their hull. John gritted his teeth as he brought the spinning boat to a standstill. For a second, there was nothing but their panicked breaths, before John gunned the engine as they were off again.

Scout was standing at the door, open mouthed, staring at the major, the firework bundle hanging loosely in his hand. John had just pulled of a trick that most professional speed-boat drivers couldn't do. At least, not without causing the destruction of their craft and whatever surrounding items are in and around it. "Stop gaping and start moving" John barked, noticing that everyone had fallen too silent to be getting any work done. Snapped out of their separate reveries, Lestrade and Sally followed Scout out onto deck, but Sherlock stayed behind, staring at John. The uncanny military sense John had developed alerted him to the fact that there was still someone behind him. Risking a glance behind him, John turned to see Sherlock's grey eyes fixed onto his. And as always, he felt the swooping in the lower half of his stomach. Cursing his body for acting like a hormonal teenager's, he turned back to the water, trying to calm his breathing, and focus on Scout, who was getting Lestrade and Sally to tie the fireworks to the bow of the boat, the spray whipping up into their faces.

Suddenly, two arms were around John's waist, causing the major to turn the boat so violently Scout was almost thrown overboard, saved only by Sally and Lestrade's quick reflexes. Thank god they couldn't see the bridge or his burning cheeks from their position.

"Sherlock!" John finally managed, ignoring the incredibly warm body that was pressed flush into him and the distractingly soft lips that were currently barely brushing against his neck,

'Yes John?" Sherlock asked, somehow managing to sound like they were talking about the weather.

"If you don't get off me right now," John had to leave the sentence unfinished as he suddenly noticed how close the other boat was. Blaming every higher power he could think of, the doctor hit the pedals, which, thanks to Sherlock he had eased off on.

Out the front, there were yells as they were thrown off balance, and John felt a little tension ease as they left the other boat behind, speeding ahead. Of course…there was still the problem of his own personal teddy bear, which had a very un-teddy bear like agenda planned,

"I believe you have a threat to finish, Major," Sherlock rumbled, his voice velvet to John's ears. The army medic knew if he kept this up, consequences be damned, he'd take Sherlock right there and then. So what it they get blown to pieces? It was Sherlock's fault anyway.

"If you don't get off me, right now, Sherlock, there'll be nothing left for you to have any fun with by the end of this trip," John finished in a carefully measured tone. Sherlock considered for a moment. John could go through with his threat, but then again…maybe he wouldn't… The major's entire body tensed underneath Sherlock as he changed gears, flicking several switches that Sherlock couldn't care less about, and reaching up, pulling the radio down but leaving it off. "I'm serious, Sherlock," regretting it, Sherlock stepped back, but still stayed close enough to feel John's warmth. It was all John could've hoped for.

From the bow, Scout waved back at John and the Major thumbed up. He turned the radio on and Sherlock took the captain's seat, watching John. The doctor licked his lips (Much to Sherlock's enjoyment) and spoke, using a voice he hadn't used since his return home, 'To the boat that seems incapable of understanding that we don't want to be chased," as he spoke, Scout, Lestrade and Sally walked back onto the bridge, soaking wet, and breathing hard, "We are surrendering, peacefully," Lestrade and Sally turned to question Scout, when they noticed the timer in his hand and shut up. As they stood there, in tense silence, John slowed the boat, and turned the beeping radar off.

Sherlock watched as John turned to face Scout, "Is it set?"

"It'll blow the minute another boat gets within a hundred metres,"

"What have we just set up?" Sally asked, leaning against the arm of Sherlock's chair,

"The General Foley move," John, glanced up to make sure that the radio was switched off, "Pretend to surrender, wait for the last moment, then take your enemy by surprise. Hopefully, they haven't seen the fireworks we set up there on the front," a mischievous grin broke out a John's face and Sally had to admit the effect it had on her, someone who was in no way attracted to the Major, was quite exhilarating. Behind her, she felt Sherlock shift ever so subtly and a little mini celebration erupted in her mind. She didn't hate Sherlock any more, but it was always funny watching the genius detective squirm. Lestrade felt a little punch drunk. Within forty-eight hours, he had turned from boring old married DI into a widower SIS agent-in-training being hunted by God knows who somewhere in the Atlantic. He sighed and put some of his weight on the now quite control panel as their pursuers closed the gap between them. He watched as both Scout and John watched with eagle's eyes as it approached. "Three hundred metres" John muttered under his breath. There was an air of anticipation on the still bridge.

A sea gull swooped the water in front of them, plucking a fish out of the water, it shadow being thrown over the boat before it disappeared again, 'Two hundred metres," Scout said, a slightly excited tone to his otherwise neutral or commanding voice.

The craft in front of them was cutting through the water as easily as a hot knife through butter, and as it got closer, the words True gem caught the light and recognition stirred in John' memory…but it couldn't be… "Fifty metres from target" Sherlock said, as keyed up as they were, while John's mind whirred frantically. Oh shit, he thought, True Gem's a government ship…it's one of ours! Which means… He didn't get to finish his thoughts. An ear shattering bang rang through the air as Scout pressed the trigger. John clamped his hand over his ear as the fireworks took off, so carefully placed that they didn't even singe the Blood Gold. Sherlock, Lestrade, Sally and Scout watched in glee and John with growing horror as the thirty fireworks plunged into the bow of the True Gem.

Within seconds, the entire thing had stopped moving and was a flaming mess. Scout cheered and pulled Lestrade into a one armed hug, while he clapped John on the back. Sherlock just watched the flames and Sally hugged Jon,

'We got rid of them!" she said, her eyes glowing, but John turned to face her solemnly,

"I don't think so," he said, pointing to the upper deck. A man was shouting and waving at them, and as John carefully gunned the engine to bring them less that ten metres from the burning craft Lestrade let out a groan, for there, waving frantically, his suit smoking, was Director Francis Stone, the very man who sent them on this half-cocked mission.

I understand I might have made Sherlock into a sex-crazed hatter. To all those who fell asleep, Sorry! But I just survived P.E aerobics. Leave me alone. :) Kidding. Please don't leave me alone...see? this is what being an only child does to you...

:D

Aza

xoxo