And here we are again! :)

Chapter 14

Silence greeted Stone's statement and he looked from one shocked face to another, even Sherlock's normally passive face betrayed his emotion, and it was clear to Stone that his first assumption was right, he was going to be shot and hit from two, three or four different angles.

The car rumbled over a rough patch in the road as the clouds shifted in the silent breeze that blew up ahead, the stars glinting, as if watching the black shadow that whipped through the night.

"What?" Lestrade asked, much as Stone expected,

"We're going to see Moriarty," Stone repeated, and finally, spurred everyone else into action as well,

"Why?" Sally asked, stretching the word out as if she were afraid that Stone wouldn't catch it,

"Because we need help, I thought I explained that already,"

'What help could we possible get from a madman?" Sally asked and Sherlock had to raise an eyebrow at the use of the word 'madman'

"He's not a madman," the words escaped Sherlock's lips before he had a chance to catch them and the car descended into silence again – a horrified one.

John felt like someone was taking his heart and twisting it just a little as words spoken what seemed like a long time ago came back to him 'One day there's going to be a body and Sherlock will be standing over it," John met Sally's eyes and caught the glimpse of sadness that shone in it. Sherlock closed his eyes, his heart beating louder than he'd ever heard it before, knowing that he shouldn't have said those four words while all that went through Greg's mind was what the bloody hell just happened?

Stone swallowed audibly as he glanced from one person to another, knowing that even though it wasn't really his fault, he would forever feel guilty if this group failed to work together. After all, finding people competent enough for what was ahead wasn't an easy task.

Sherlock allowed himself to open his eyes and glanced at John, before wishing he didn't. The usual humor and, lately, love that met Sherlock's eyes was gone and instead, there was doubt there. Sherlock wanted to say something – anything to let John know that he didn't mean anything by that one statement, but Stone cleared his throat and John determinedly broke eye contact with Sherlock.

"Well, erm," Stone looked around, 'we'll be there soon. I, er, suggest you get some sleep," he finished, and watched as John crossed his arms and closed his eyes. Sally looked at Sherlock, managed a somewhat weak smile and turned to look out the window. Lestrade looked as lost as Sherlock felt and shrugged his shoulders slightly as Sherlock's grey eyes questioned him. Sherlock sighed and looked left, out the window to see his own reflection staring back at him and schooled his features into the blank slate he could pull off so well as the car continued on its way to London.

They pulled up outside HM Prison Frankland, a category A prison, sitting in Brasside, Durham. John stared at the place and wondered why he was so surprised at the location and the fact that England's most notorious criminals were locked up here. Moriarty was a psychopath and was dangerous. Just because, before his being locked up, he had been civil and polite to both him and Sherlock, didn't mean that it was going to last or that he was a changed man. And John had to keep reminding himself of this, before he forgot that Moriarty had taken people's lives all for the fun of the game. Which brought the doctor's thoughts back to Sherlock – who seemed to be asleep as they waited for clearance that would no doubt to obtained by Stone.

John looked around the car. Stone had gotten out earlier, and had left the four of them inside, and everyone was asleep except for John. The army medic let his eyes travel over Sherlock's face and realized that the detective really was asleep, and wasn't feigning it, because he never looked so sweet and innocent and…young; John chuckled softly and gently brushed a lock of ebony hair out of Sherlock's closed eyes, his hands feather light on Sherlock's skin. The sharp features looked soft in the harsh light from the lampposts above them that filtered through the tinted glass. John sighed. Maybe what happened earlier was just a slip, he told himself, Sherlock's comment still too clear in his mind. John shook his head angrily. Why the hell was something like this causing him so much of angst? For god's sake it was one statement. John frowned and came to a decision. He was going to forget. That's what he would do. No one had ever given Sherlock a chance. No one believed that he was worth it – but he did. God did he believe that Sherlock was worth the head in the fridge and everyone else be damned, he didn't care anymore.

As Stone made his way back to the car, John gently took Sherlock's hand in his and intertwined his fingers, causing the detective to stir but not wake. Stone opened the door and glanced at the joined hands before shaking Sally awake, ignoring John and hiding the small smile,

'Let's go, sleeping beauty," he said, and watched as Sally mumbled something that was anything by flattering, before he nodded to Lestrade and Sherlock, who was still, miraculously, asleep, "Get him awake, I'll meet you at the gates,"

Sally grumbled and rubbed her eyes, leaning over to Lestrade as John woke Sherlock. Both detectives, official and unofficial woke slowly and whined about it too as they were dragged from the car by a determined doctor and sergeant. Neither was going to let them live this down.

As the cold air hit them, Sherlock woke up fully and realized that John was holding his hand, despite the fact that there was no great need. "John? He asked, keeping his voice low and the doctor turned his head to look at him.

"Yes, Sherlock? The detective was about to ask what was going on before, for the first time in his thirty-four years, he decided not to say anything, but just smiled, hesitantly, and John returned it, squeezing the hand he held slightly. They reached the gates ahead of Sally and Lestrade, the latter who was complaining loudly that he never knew why he agreed to this entire idea and then realized that he didn't agree and was about to start another rant when Stone cut him off with a hurry up!

The skies above them were clear but there was no moon as they stood in front of the gates, waiting for them to open and a loud buzz made Lestrade glance at Sally in slight anticipation. A fair few cells in this building had been filled by him and the sergeant, and he was pretty sure that none of them would be glad to see the people who put them in the jail.

They walked into the first part of the gates and John couldn't help but feel like they were going to prison as the huge gate crashed shut behind them. The slightly smaller, but not by much, gate in front of them swung backwards and they were standing in the main compound on the jail, the grounds around them empty and deserted, the benches and chairs scattered as if no on could be bothered putting them back into some sort of order. The barbed wire glinted in the bright lights that shone from the posts and the constant searchlight that swept the grounds, occasionally blinding the five visitors.

"We have to go to the cell itself, because Moriarty has refused to leave it and the guards honestly can't be bothered putting him in a straight jacket. There's just too much time needed because he fights all the way," Stone said, as they walked through the compound, the director seeming to know where he was going, leading them west, towards a building that was several stories high.

"So we'll have to walk through the prison?" John asked, remembering the last time he went into a prison was in Afghanistan and that was to get his mates out. Only three of them made it alive, and John shook his head, trying to clear the images that ran through it, "Yes," Stone said and Sherlock cast him a look, as if trying to read everything about the man, but it was lost on the medic because there was no light near them as they approached the door.

Sally shivered slightly despite the thickness of the army fatigue she was dressed in. There was something about prisons that always made her wonder why she became a cop in the first place.

Lestrade watched as the door was opened and they were allowed inside, greeted by a stoic faced prison officer. They walked in silence, one behind the other and their steps echoed off the walls, as the prisoners came to the bars of their cells to take a look at the new comers.

John kept his eyes on Stone in front of him as they passed the general section of the prison and walked into the psychiatric section, the lights brighter and the floors softer. They looked around at the closed off doors and John swallowed as they reached cell number 156, and Stone stopped. "Let me just prepare you," he said, looking at them and Sherlock rolled his eyes,

'We don't need any preparation," he said, " We chased him for a good year, Stone," he said, and Lestrade nodded,

"We don't care about him," the DI added, "All we care is about getting the information that we need from him and getting over and done with," he looked at John who conceded with a nod of his head,

'Yeah," John winced at the hoarse tone and wondered if he had a cold coming on, 'they're right. The less we know about Stone, the better," John's voice cracked slightly and he winced again, as Sherlock's hand came up to his shoulder.

"Alright," Stone said, reaching for his pocket and producing a key card, which he slid through the pad on the door, dialing the digits in. After glancing at everyone, John realised that they were waiting for him to go in first and he sighed. He looked at Sherlock and the detective gave a small smile. John took a deep breath and walked into the room, stopping dead in his tracks as he took a look at the man that sat inside that room.

I'm so sorry it's taken this long to update. But between visiting in the hospital and school and homework, I fell so far behind in this. I'm sorry!

And my hamstring is still in a lot of pain from that stupid injury.

So be glad you're getting an update.

:)

Love

Aza

xoxo