Chapter 18

Leaving the two buffoons in the capable hands of Scotland Yard, John ran off searching for his best mate hoping he hadn't done anything stupid yet. With Sherlock Holmes, one never knows what to expect...John learned that real fast.

"Sherlock! Where are you?" Receiving no response John quickened his pace running through the rooms.

Silence in Sherlock's stead answered.

At last, a faint noise seemed to be emanating from the last room of the corridor that John's good hearing detected. It was too soft to recognise clearly what exactly it was, but it sounded like two voice the closer the doctor headed toward it. The lower pitches vibrated through the walls, but with the higher pitches it was easier to understand those chilling words.

"So...what now? It's not like ya can do anyfing to me! No one knows nuffing about dis place. Took me awhile ta find ah deserted place wiv 'ittle lightin' and no windas. Nobody gonna hear you scream when dis bullet goes straigh frew ya 'eart..."

"No," The deeper voice responded evenly without a trace of emotion. "People will hear my scream, and I can assure you it won't be just anyone. It will be The One. You wouldn't want to upset him, now would you? I'd imagine there's a rather large price over your head should you fail. He's not one to be trifled with. Besides, you're wrong-very wrong. There a lot of things I can and will do to you starting with..."

The arrhythmia was so strong John could hear it resonating in his ears. Creeping up to the place Sherlock and 'Larry' were located; he peered slightly into the room stealing a glance. He bit his tongue to keep from making any unwanted words spill out; the doctor's temper grew hot.

No one threatens my best friend under any circumstances, and especially not when the odd are unfairly stacked against him.

Larry was sitting at one end of the long table and Sherlock at the other in a dimly lit windowless room. A stack of valuable information and a loaded gun pinning it down was in the middle of the two men. The gun seemed to shine like a polished onyx stone when the torch's light flickered on the table, otherwise Larry was waving it around as it if he were a flame spinner at the circus. John saw red. If he didn't do something quick he might have a dead best friend and/or a dead criminal. Neither option seemed terribly appealing.

"Don't ya move ah muscle or 'ave ya forgotten. Ah 'ave anufer gun in me 'and," the smaller man threatened.

John was in the perfect position to see both Sherlock and the gang leader. Larry hands quivered slightly under Sherlock death glare. Neither men spoke a sound; Larry tried to intensify his own expression to mirror Sherlock's. He simply couldn't.

"Stop glaring at me like that! It's creepy. You look deranged!"

Brushing off the gunman's comments, Sherlock furrowed his brow even more keeping his eyes focus on that torch's light. This was the point John was waiting for, Larry was starting to buckle under the pressure.

"Drop your gun!" John ordered in his captain's voice now with his presence towering in the doorway. John was a far cry from being called a tall man, but when challenged his height seemed to grow. "I will not repeat myself. Do as I say immediately." John threatened him.

Larry dropped his torch on the hard cold floor before John finished his sentence. "Sorreh, did you say "drop your gun"? Ah fought ah 'eard you say "torch". Ma bad. Gotta blame me old ears." Larry asked feigning confusion.

"Don't give me that rubbish. You heard me perfectly. Now. For the final time. Drop. Your. Gun." John's scowl made Sherlock's glare look like a joke.

With a smirk on his face Larry did as he was told, but not before he fired a shot in Sherlock's direction who standing next to the table still wearing the evil glare. Sherlock heard his friend scream a warning to him, and ducked just in time to feel the heat of the bullet fly past his ear.

That was too close for comfort! Good of John to warn me though since the idiotic Larry just HAD to drop the torch. Ugh! Some people!

A short tiff ensued, but it was all over barely before it began. John had Larry pinned down over the table whilst Sherlock gave the money and papers to Lestrade and sauntered off replaying the series of events. It had a rather unsettling after taste. Donovan piled Larry, Curly, and Moe into the car and drove them to NYS. Tomorrow they would be dealt with to the fullest punishment for their crimes.

Meanwhile, Sherlock and John celebrated another successful case at Angelo's. This time both of them had something more than just a cup of tea, which for Sherlock was ever so rare. The conversation was light-hearted and full of trivial bickering recounting all the interesting moments and silly blunders of the crooks. Neither of them had forgotten the serious and extremely dangerous moments, but that conversation would be saved for a rainy, dull, dreary, bleak cold day.

Well if that day ever came, but the chances of that happening were getting slimmer by the minuet. John would have to leave. Tonight was too close for comfort. John didn't know how close the bullet was to me. It's too dangerous for him now, and it's only going to get worse. I didn't want John to leave, but he has a future with Mary. It's for the best.

"...should have seen your face when you were talking to Larry! Had him so scared I could see his hands trembling to trade the torch for the gun on the table." John commented with his mouth full.

"He was weak, gave in to the slightest threat from the one that set-up the whole thing. He and his conspirators were easily dealt with. According to Lestrade he says you haven't lost your military touch. His associates were no match to the Scotland Yard officers; even Anderson could handle them single-handedly. That alone is saying something." Sherlock commented nonchalantly.

"Yea, well it only comes out when needed." John replied brushing off the compliment, he didn't want any more reminders of his past. "What do you mean they didn't plan any of his themselves?!" John questioned with a slight hint of worry creeping through his expression.

Sherlock took a sip of his tea and began his rambling. The more he spoke the graver John's face turned. The little incident was only a small part of what was to come, something bigger and more important than stealing some vital papers and money. Sadly a life had been lost in this whole fiasco, but many more lives would be lost lest the network be caught like a mosquito in a spider's web. There wouldn't be a next time. Sherlock and John had to stop this web before time ran out.

A-N: Many apologies for the long delay in updating. So sorry! I've been busy working on some writings for my Uni's Poetry and Prose magazine. I've also been swamped with tedious school work. Please leave a comment! :D