Chapter Title: Moriarty's Marionette

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Words: 1,515 (Short, I know. Next chapter will be much longer!)

Disclaimer: I don't own BBC, nor any of its characters…duh. Do I seem like the geniuses that are Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, Steven Moffat, or Mark Gatiss? I didn't think so… Though, I would have John/Sherlock shagging by now if I did own them ;D

A/N: This will be a filler. Not that long, but it is necessary to the storyline. It is mostly a thought chapter, with some Mycroft suspicion. I'd like to thank TwoHeartedWallflower for all her help! Without her, I could not have been able to think of where to have this story go! She critiqued the chapter and told me what I should change and add! Thanks so much!

Oh, and I did get a tumblr! Please follow me, I always follow back! Username: benaddictfreebabe

(I know, I know; cliché) Alright, so let's get on with it!

Mycroft slammed his laptop shut with a frustrated yell.

He had been watching the crime scene –well, watching John, anyway. He had seen John exit the flat and descend the stairs when…BOOM…the image distorted and the frame deleted.

He had tried to hack into other cameras to view the footage from a different angle, but the same thing occurred. At the exact same moment that John was descending the stairs to the sidewalk, the image blurred, paused, and then disappeared completely. Only when Mycroft had been sure that he'd missed everything did it resume.

John was talking to Lestrade and Sherlock was hailing a cab. That was it.

He had missed everything of importance. And yes, he knew that he had missed something because something was different. Sherlock was frustrated and John was relieved. Something had gone on while the video footage was being hacked…and whatever it was included John Watson.

Mycroft put his head in his hands and schemed. He knew that John was involved in something and whatever that something was, was not good. His cameras had never acted up before and now, with John suddenly becoming his priority, did the cameras glitch. Not only that, but the doctor himself had changed. He was more anxious, more on edge. He was overly defensive when Mycroft had questioned him about the glitch; it was downright suspicious.

Mycroft lifted his head and smiled as an idea came to him; one that should've been thought of a long time ago, back when Mycroft first became suspicious. He pressed the talk button on his intercom, still smiling, "Anthea, put me through to Aaron. He's needed right away…"

"Yes, sir," Anthea replied, her voice crackling over the intercom. She pressed a button on her Blackberry, putting her through to Aaron. When the man answered, Anthea spoke, "Mycroft Holmes wishes to speak to you, I'm putting you through now." She pressed another button, sending the call to the elder Holmes brother.

Mycroft held his phone to his ear, waiting for Aaron to answer. When he heard the distinct click of a call transferred, he immediately got to the point, "Aaron, I'd like to hire you for a job."

Aaron smirked, "I'll have to see if I can fit it in, Mr. Holmes…I'm a very busy guy."

"I'll pay you generously, Aaron, just do this job and you'll receive payment."

Aaron knew this was serious; a Holmes requiring his services? This was a first. "What's the job?"

"I need you to do a little legwork. You'll have to trail someone I'm particularly interested in; do not let him out of your sight and send me hourly updates of his activities," Mycroft explained, "Do this and you'll be rewarded greatly."

Aaron quirked a brow, "Yeah, sure. What's his name?"

Mycroft grimaced, "Doctor John Watson."

…

Moriarty rubbed his hands together excitedly, ideas of future tasks for his new pet (well, relatively new, considering John had worked for him before) to do for him. "What do you think, Seb? What should our good doctor do next?"

Sebastian laid the gun he was cleaning down and smirked at his boss, "I think it's time to up the ante. We already know he enjoys killing –whether he'll admit to it or not, so…I think another extermination job is in order, but this time, more personal."

Moriarty smiled, "Lets save that for the future. I was thinking more along the lines of something a little more…explosive." An evil twinkle sparkled in his irises.

Sebastian grinned, "Sounds fun."

"You don't think it's too dull, do you? It does seem like a step down…" Moriarty asked, sighing.

Sebastian smirked, "Not at all, sir. We have ourselves a slave; someone who will do utmost anything for us. We can make him do anything we want…anything. That includes explosions."

Moriarty smiled wickedly, "You're right, Seb. Absolutely right. Besides, our little marionette needs a little something to make himself known. We'll wait a couple of days, and then we can get back to ridding him of those pesky 'friends'. Can't have him murdering everyone close to him just yet, can we?"

Sebastian resumed cleaning his gun, "No, we'll have John rid himself of his friends later. Right now, we need a little excitement."

…

Sherlock paced the room, the image of a bloodied Molly stuck in his mind. He didn't believe in sentiment; it was useless.

But he couldn't stop thinking about what he had felt at the crime scene; pity and a twinge of sadness.

Molly had helped him with cases before, nothing more. He had never felt romantically attached to her; no, he was definitely asexual. He considered her a friend, but not a close one.

John was his only friend, but ever since the fall, he had been distant. He understood, though, he could see why one would be cross with him. He had lied for three years; leaving John on his own. In retrospect, he should've informed John of his plan regarding faking his own suicide, but he knew, deep down, that what he had done was to save John.

But now something else was off, and it wasn't the fall.

…

John lay on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. His gaze was focused, but his mind was elsewhere.

He knew he was in trouble, he knew he was stuck. There was no real way out of anything; he had dug himself a hole and with each new lie, that hole was getting deeper and deeper, swallowing him whole. Sherlock was bound to be suspicious, Hell, Mycroft already was. Lestrade would catch on…eventually. John would run out of excuses or slip up one day, and that would be it. No more good doctor with high moral principles. No more living with Sherlock. He'd sit behind bars, rotting; living his days out how like before the war. Alone.

He knew he deserved to sit behind bars for the rest of his life; he'd killed someone for God's sakes! It didn't take a genius to know what he'd done was wrong…but why didn't he feel sorry? To tell the truth, he felt invigorated. Like someone had killed the old John Watson and now he was reborn into a better, stronger, smarter John Watson. He had had this feeling before, back when Sherlock had died and John had begun to work for Moriarty. He had thought that his life was over after Sherlock jumped. He had thought that the adventure and the danger that came with working beside Sherlock was gone, so he settled for something that would bring the same sense of adventure and danger. Something to do to in his wake of anger at Sherlock for leaving him alone. He soon found himself forgetting about the law and killing for no reason, except for it being fun.

John sighed. He didn't like to think that way anymore. Looking back at who he was when Sherlock was 'dead' disgusted him. He had felt no remorse for his victims then, and he did not feel remorse now. It was strange, feeling no remorse and all. He had always been classified as the good doctor with a strong moral compass, but that had changed.

Everything had changed.

A/N: Like I said before, this was just a little filler. The next chapter will be, shall we say, explosive? ;)

Thanks again, TwoHeartedWallflower! You really helped me through my funk! This next chapter is going to be rather fun ;D

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