Here we are. Friday Updates.

SCHOOL'S OUT! YAY!

Chapter 15

"Moriarty…?" John gasped, staring at the man who was currently sitting on the bed, playing solitaire, the black hair that he used to sport completely white, and shoulder length, partially hiding a scar that ran down the right hand side of his face. He looked up and sharp eyes glinted as he recognised the man standing in the doorway, his mouth slightly ajar at the look of completely serenity on the psychopath's face.

"John Watson." Moriarty smiled slightly as the others walked in, followed by Stone who shut the door behind them, "Doctor. John Watson," Moriarty repeated, smiling slightly,

"Ye-yes," John stuttered and Moriarty laughed,

"Still inarticulate as ever, John," he said and Sherlock drew the man's attention away,

"You haven't changed much,' the detective said and Moriarty chuckled, the sound dark, bouncing around the room,

"No, I just got knifed, had my hair bleached and I'm locked up in here," he said, looking at them with disgust, "So why are you here? Visiting for some old memories?"

Lestrade almost growled out aloud in frustration as he realised just how irritating the man could be, "Shut up, Moriarty," he snapped and the psychopath uncrossed his legs to turn to face them, the bed on the other side of the room, "No, I think not. You're in my cell now," He grinned wickedly, and the scar stood out white against the tanned skin,

"We just need a few things from you," Stone said, trying to take control of the situation,

"Really what?" Moriarty turned back to the cards, wincing slightly as he moved his neck, Sherlock noticed, and wondered what he had done to hurt himself before reminding himself that it didn't matter.

Moriarty flipped one card over to reveal an ace of hearts,

"We need the name of your contacts on the black market," Stone said,

"I already gave them to you," Moriarty kept his eyes fixed on the cards and Stone exchanged a glance with John,

'All of those names were fake," John said, having requested the file from Scotland Yard after Moriarty was locked up,

"Not all," Moriarty moved the ace up and opened the card underneath – a king of hearts,

"Just what I need," he said, looking up to stare at John, the black eyes boring into the light brown. John met the eyes and dismissed the memory of being shoved into twelve kilos of semtex and remembering the smell of mint that seemed to hang around Moriarty. And the way that his hand lingered for way too long on his shoulder, rooting him in place that fateful night before the pool.

"Give us what we need," Lestrade said but Moriarty didn't reply, keeping his gaze fixed on John. Sally glanced at her boss who shrugged as the silence extended.

Sherlock was about to break by telling Stone that this entire thing was completely pointless, when Moriarty opened his mouth.

"I see that your pet's become something more," the psychopath said, his gaze sliding over to Sherlock and he took great pleasure as Sherlock's eyes darkened in anger,

"Let's go," Sherlock said and Stone shook his head,

'There's a chance of a lessened sentence," Stone said and Moriarty chuckled,

"By how much?" he asked at the same time that both John and Lestrade rounded on Stone,

"WHAT?" they asked, panic coursing through both of them as even the thought that Moriarty might get out was enough to make them worry,

'There's a chance of reducing your sentence by fifty years," Stone said and Moriarty's head snapped up and Jon's eyes widened.

Moriarty had been given a hundred year term, which, considering he was already thirty meant that he would not outlive it, and no one really expected him to be on good behaviour, to be let out on parol. Up until now, he hadn't been. But now...John looked at the man.

"Make it sixty five and I'll give you everything," he said, grinning like a maniac, which, Lestrade figured, he was.

"Stone!" John said, trying to get the director's attention, but he was determinedly looking anywhere but the four trainees, "Sir!" John said, and the plead was all too obvious. Moriarty laughed as Stone looked at John, "You can't let him out again," John said, and Sally tugged on Stone's sleeve, and he looked at her, his face blank,

"He'll kill as soon as he's out," she said, keeping her voice low,

"Sacred of me?" Moriarty asked, but no one looked at him, instead they looked at Stone, silently appealing to him, but he couldn't reply. He couldn't give them what they wanted,

"Fine," Stone said, replying to Moriarty, still looking at John, then at Sherlock, who, unlike John, kept his face blank, and horror set into the four of them, and the room appeared to get a little smaller as John processed the fact that Moriarty could be freed again.

"Really?" Moriarty asked,

"Yes." Stone sighed, hating himself as he did, "Yes. Fine, on the conditions that the contacts you give are all real," He finally looked at Moriarty to see him sweep the cards from the bed and get to his feet, "Pen and paper," he said, his eyes glinting and John felt like he was deflating, all the fear of the last year returning.

His worried gaze locked onto Sherlock's and the detective allowed his face to relax – but only slightly – enough for John to see that he wasn't unaffected. Lestrade watched as Stone handed the paper over along with a pen. This was wrong and he knew it. Damn it if there was some black marketeer on the loose – so long as Moriarty never got loose, everyone would be fine.

Sally grabbed his arm and shook her head slightly as Moriarty sat on the bed, the long white hair falling into his face, hiding the terrifyingly bright eyes, eyes that flicked across the paper with newfound purpose.

'We can't let this happen," John whispered, to Sherlock, Sally and Lestrade, who nodded slightly,

'We'll stop it somehow," Lestrade said, still not entirely sure how,

"Yeah," Sally said as the scratching of pen on paper filled the room and Stone let out a breath, the weight of the deal he just made sitting on his shoulders. He knew that this could hurt innocent people, but he had a job to do and a family to feed. He glanced at the four and almost flinched away as he met the meaningful gaze that John sent his way. He broke the contact and looked back at Moriarty. He watched as words, written in neat, precise writing filled the paper and wondered again why he never just retired.

After the trip to the prison, Stone went back to HQ to sort things out and the four trainees went back to the boot camp. Two hard, gruelling weeks past, and all four could feel their fighting skills, despite being good beforehand, grow and expand to the point that very few dared to take them on.

The worry of what was happening with Moriarty hung over all of them, as they met up after the long days. Sherlock wouldn't say much during those times – he didn't need to. He would lie on the bed and listen to the others, and as the days passed, he noticed that John was becoming a soldier again. Very rarely did he show any sign of outward affection towards Sherlock – to the world they were friends, and as more time passed, more and more women would try and ask John out and even after rejection, none of them gave up, but that was because John was way too nice. Every single time it happened Sherlock wanted to grab John and hide him in the nearest room and every night, Sherlock couldn't sleep because as soon as John started dreaming, the nightmares returned, and it ripped his heart in two every single time he heard the sobs. And he would get up, and would walk across the room and wake John up, and then allow the doctor to take comfort in his presence. And then, somehow, he always woke up before the call and was in his own bed every morning. Lestrade was none the wiser, but Sherlock found himself missing John's kisses.

Meanwhile, Lestrade found a way to get on in the day without thinking of his wife. He would bury himself in the work at hand, and, the more he tried to move on, he found he could do it, and as long as he never let himself think of John in any other way as his best mate, things would be fine. He knew they would. And at night, when John was reminded of the terror of Afghanistan, Lestrade had to force himself to stay where he was, because comforting John in the middle of the night wasn't his to do. As much as he wanted to.

Sally was doing more than well. Maddie was soon her best friend and she found that she loved the evenings, catching up with all the female personnel, after a day spent with three men, all of whom did nothing but try to out run, out fight or just out do each other. She loved all three of them, even if sometimes Sherlock drove her to the point of madness, like when he stole her towel when she was in the shower. He needed it because he wanted a shower, apparently. But what was she supposed to do? She had to run back to her cabin wearing her underwear, which resulted in pictures she'd rather forget. But she loved it whenever Sherlock was cheeky because he was adorable. And when John yelled at him, he submitted to what he wanted and that was something that never got old for Sally.

In fact, by the end of the third week, with only one more week to go before they graduated with the others, not as Army officers, but rather as SIS agents, they had settled into the army routine, and were actually enjoying themselves – not that Sherlock would dare admit anything such as enjoyment.

Stone left them well alone for the rest of their training, and while they couldn't forget what was happening at the prison not too far from where they were, they were able to put it to the back of their minds.

Finally, four weeks after the prison visit, the four of them stood at the gates of training facility, out of their fatigues and back in civilian clothes – suits for the men and a light green dress for Sally, and none of them could honestly say that, five weeks ago, when they had been dragged into this mess, that they would've come out as they had.

"It was good having you with us," their Commander said, smiling warmly as they shook hands,

'It was good for us, too,' John said and the commander chuckled,

"The drill sergeant would've wanted to be here," he said, and Sally shook her head with a smile,

'New recruits?" she asked and the commander nodded,

"Yep…well," he looked at all of them as the gates opened to reveal a black car, waiting for them,

"I'm…going to miss this place," John said and Sherlock clapped him on the shoulder – a motion that he recently discovered and found he liked,

"You'll be fine," Sherlock said and John laughed,

"As long as you stay around," he said, smiling softly at the detective and Sally rolled her eyes,

'Can you at least wait until you get into the city?" she asked, and Lestrade laughed, looking down to hide the slight flush on his face,

"Why?" Sherlock asked and it was John's turn to laugh,

"C'mon," he said, grabbing Sherlock's arm, "Thankyou, Commander,"

"I hope I'll see you sometime soon, Major," the CO replied, and John nodded, leading the others towards the car.

The gates shut behind them as they climbed into the car, Sherlock pulling up last. As soon as the door closed the engine started, and John tried to get a glimpse of the driver through the black screen but found it, as usual, completely obscured.

"I believe you're sitting on something,' Sherlock said, smiling slightly as Lestrade jumped and reached underneath him to pull out a slightly squished manila folder.

'Why can't he give things to us?' John asked, frowning as Lestrade opened the folder and Sally laughed,

"An MI6 agent actually giving things? Don't be stupid," she said, and John laughed,

'What's in it?" Sally looked at the folder as Lestrade drew four passports and four plane tickets,

"Typical," Sherlock muttered and Lestrade looked at him,

'How many tickets have you received in a folder?" he asked, staring at Sherlock,

"Not too many, but I can tell you that those tickets are to where our first assignment is,' he said and Lestrade glanced down, and gasped,

'Where are we going?" Sally asked, unable to conceal her excitement,

"Australia," Lestrade said, looking surprised and John raised his eyebrows,

'Australia? What for?" Lestrade handed the tickets to Sally, next to him, as he opened the first passport – Sherlock's. His mouth dropped open as he stared at the picture of the man, his hair cut short, and his eyes glinting. Sherlock didn't even know when that was taken,

'Since when did you change your name?" Lestrade asked, looking up at him and he grabbed the passport, staring in horror at the name on the passport. He didn't care that there was a chance this mission could be dangerous. He did, however care, that his name was…Bob. Of all the bloody names…

He stared at the official thing as it if had done him some sort of injustice.

'What's his name?" John asked and Lestrade grinned,

'Bob Maxwell," he said and Sherlock glared at him when John chocked back a laugh,

"Ehrm…" the doctor managed, in an attempt to say sorry and Sherlock snatched up the next passport,

"What are you laughing at, Pierre Mannu?" he asked and the smile was wiped of John's face as Lestrade and Sally shook with laughter at the look of complete shock on John's face.

…He was French?

Lestrade opened the next passport to find that his new name was Mitchell Robson and grinned as John glared at the passport and the completely normal name, while Sally found that she was to be called Amy Wright and felt like throwing the passport out the window.

"This is ridiculous," John said, taking the folder from Lestrade, "He'd better have a bloody good reason…" John faded off as he read the information, and as he flushed, Sherlock began to get curious,

"What?" the detective asked,

"We're…" John faded off and looked up at Sherlock, and Sally, growing impatient, leant over Lestrade and grabbed the folder from John. She read the first two lines and her mouth dropped open. Lestrade read over her shoulder as Sherlock finally deduced what was going to happen,

"We're married," He said and John nodded while Sherlock felt a bubble of happiness inflating inside of him. He grinned widely and, after hesitating, John smiled back as Sally laughed and clapped her hands,

"OH MY GOD!" she said in a voice that was a little high pitched for Sherlock's liking, and Lestrade had to swallow.

"Isn't gay marriage not allowed in the UK?" John asked and Sherlock shrugged,

"You were married in Canada," Lestrade said, reading the fact file, "and you're both on your honeymoon in Australia."

"What are you two then?"

'We're…brother and sister?" Lestrade looked at Sally and John raised his eyebrows as Lestrade read on and the confusion was cleared up,

"Ah, adopted."

'Who was adopted?" Sally asked and John smiled,

'I was," Lestrade said,

"We're meant to be staying at…ah,"

'What?" John asked,

"Howell's hotel." Sherlock nodded,

'Makes sense, but what do we do there?"

'Wait a minute, will you?"

Lestrade turned the page and read on, "We are to stay there for three nights and act as tourists would,"

"What state are we in?"

'Victoria…Melbourne's CBD," Lestrade flicked back to the page he had been on before turning it again, "Anyway, we go around, eat out, but don't make contact with each other. Sally and I watch from afar. On the fourth night, there is a high roller's poker game and…holy shit," he said and John and Sally leaned in, while Sherlock sighed,

'Get on with it," The consulting detective said and Lestrade complied,

"John…you're a billionaire," John grinned,

"Really?" Lestrade nodded fervently,

'You're worth eight point nine billion at the moment and your shares keep going up…" Lestrade looked at him with envy,

"Keep going," John encouraged, as they turned onto the freeway that would take them back to London.

"Right…you play the game, and afterwards, will be invited to join Howell for dinner…that's when," Lestrade swallowed and looked at John,

"That's when you offer to join in his under the table business"

'What under-the-table business?" John asked and suddenly, Sherlock didn't like this,

"You…er…you have to deal drugs and-well-" Lestrade steeled himself, 'You have to join his mafia,"

"What?" John asked, "What about Sherlock,"

'Your…husband will know nothing about it, and life will go on, once you're in, we leave and go back to Australia,"

"If I'm doing all the buying what are you three going to do?" John asked,

'We'll be watching," Lestrade said, repeating the words on the page,

'With what?"

"We're to meet up with the Aussie feds over there and they'll help us,' said Lestrade when you go for the game, we'll be with them,"

'And what if John is found out?" Sherlock asked and Lestrade shrugged,

"It all depends,' he said and John sighed,

'When are we leaving?" Sally asked and Lestrade looked back down to the tickets,

'Two days,"

John sat back and stared out the window, through which it couldn't see anything but their reflection. He almost wished he were back at the camp doing some random exercises with Scout. Almost.

So…makes up for the two weeks without updates?

I hope so. I spent a fair amount of time on this.

:D

Did you like it?

Aza

xoxo