Author's note: And the plot starts... I had this idea, suddenly, without ever thinking about it, and I just had to write it.

I don't own anything, please review.

While they were walking towards the body, following Greg, John grabbed Sherlock's arm and forced him to stop. Greg, proving once again that he was a good friend, went on, pretending not to realize that they had stopped.

"Sherlock" John hissed "should we tell Greg?"

"Tell him what?" Sherlock asked.

"About Moran, of course!" John exclaimed, barely able to keep his voice down.

"No" Sherlock replied, "It's too dangerous". And, just like that, the doctor understood, better than ever before, that Sherlock cared for Greg, just like the DI cared for Sherlock. The consulting detective simply had a different way to show it than most people.

"Yes. Yes, of course it is" he answered, nodding, and Sherlock seemed once again surprised that someone would understand him that well, would realize what he meant without him needing to explain what was going through his head.

There was nothing else to say, and they went on, walking towards the body. Greg awaited them in front of the crime scene tape. Sherlock held the tape up for John and immediately went to the body, the doctor slowly following him and stopping a few feet away from the consulting detective to give him enough space for his deductions.

Greg walked over and came to stand beside John while Sherlock was investigating the body. Despite their earlier conversation, he still seemed unsure, and the doctor couldn't help but like him for it.

"John..." he said slowly, "I just have to – are we alright?"

John smiled. "Of course we are" he answered. "It's fine, it's all fine".

Greg nodded and returned his smile. "A pint in the pub as soon as Sherlock finds out what happened to this guy?"

"Sure". John nodded and the two friends smiled at each other. At least there was still some normality in his life.

"John!" Sherlock called, oblivious to the conversation that had just taken place. The doctor went over to the body and kneeled down.

"Yes?"

"Any idea to the cause of death?"

"You know, Sherlock, we have a whole team," Greg interrupted, though he apparently wasn't hopeful that the consulting detective would allow anyone else to come near the body.

Sherlock didn't even answer, instead he focused on John who was inspecting the skeleton.

"Dead about a year, I would say" the doctor explained, "but left here, as Greg said, only a short time ago. A man, definitely – rather young". John hesitated, wondering why he had the feeling that he had seen this skeleton before – it was just a skeleton after all, and he had seen many of those during his medical training, although he'd never thought – no, he was just being silly. Better not tell Sherlock, he'd never hear the end of it.

Sherlock nodded, talking while he got down on his knees to inspect the ground around the body, "Why would someone suddenly drag the body out of its hiding place – we have to assume it was hidden, or it would have been found sooner – and bring it where it had to be found? There must be a reason..."

John ignored his friend – Sherlock would tell him what had happened and what to do soon enough – and concentrated on the skeleton again. There was a small nick on one of the ribs... not defined enough for a knife, but –

Under the skeleton in the grass he found what he was looking for. "He was shot".

"How do know this?" Greg asked, while Sherlock looked almost proud of his friend.

"There's a nick on one of his left ribs – and a bullet under the body."

Sherlock frowned, and John wanted to ask what was wrong when he realized.

"The bullet shouldn't be here" he exclaimed, looking at Sherlock. "It should be wherever the body was concealed before being brought here – the bullet was stuck in the flesh, and when it decayed it would have fallen down..."

"Exactly" Sherlock answered, suddenly a lot more interested in the case. "So whoever moved the body collected the body. He wanted us to find it. The question is – why? Someone who knew where the body was concealed certainly knew enough about it to simply call the police."

"Maybe he or she was afraid of someone?" John suggested, looking over the body once more to make sure they hadn't overlooked anything – not that they would have with Sherlock being present.

"Possible. We have to find out the identity of the victim" Sherlock replied, and John, standing up, could see Greg rolling his eyes behind Sherlock's back and hid a smile. As if the DI wouldn't know that you had to identify a body found in a park.

"Anyway, we're off. Come on, John, I won't be able to stand Donavan and Anderson today" and Sherlock strode away, John shooting Greg an apologetic look before shuffling after him.

"What..." he started to ask, realizing that Sherlock must already have a clue what was going on; normally he spent more time with a body, especially one that had obviously been dead for some time.

"Think, John, think. Why should a body just happen to show up right after Moran talked to you and told you he was going to have his revenge?"

John's eyebrows rose. "You mean... the body is connected to Moran?"

"Most likely" Sherlock replied. "How this is supposed to help his plan, however, I have no idea".

While it was comforting in a way to know that even the world's only consulting detective didn't know what was going on, John still worried about Moran. What was the sniper doing? He must realize that dumping a body – or rather a skeleton – in an abandoned park must put him right on Sherlock's radar, must in fact give John's friend clues how to find him or even prove him guilty of the man's death. But then – why do it? Why give Sherlock a chance? If anything, John would've suspected an attack at the crime scene, but nothing had happened.

Sherlock got a cab and they rode back to 221B, the consulting detective wanting to finish the experiment that had been interrupted first by John's news about his meeting with Moran and then by Greg's call.

As it turned out, he couldn't get back to it immediately because Mycroft was waiting for them. Really, John should have expected it (Sherlock probably had) – his team had let the doctor out of his sight, after all, and the elder Holmes cared for his brother's well being, emotionally as well as physically, even if he tried not to let it show.

"Sherlock, John. I assure you that I am very sorry for the mistake my team made earlier and ensure you that the persons responsible have already been dealt with".

Once again, John Watson thanked God that Mycroft Holmes was on his side – or, at least, on his brother's side.

"However" he added, "while the café has security cameras, Moran knew where to sit, so I need John to tell me what they talked about".

Sherlock grimaced, annoyed that his brother had to know, while John was more than ready to give Mycroft all the information he needed to put Moran behind bars. Sherlock was in danger, he didn't doubt it; Moran was ready to do anything just to cause him pain and –

With a sudden jolt, he realized he had forgotten someone. Someone he should have been thinking of the whole time.

Mycroft, probably even better at reading thoughts as his brother was, answered his unspoken question.

"Miss Watson has been placed under surveillance as well – as soon as Sherlock told me about Moran's note, in fact."

John sighed, relieved, and just a little bit ashamed. Then, before Sherlock could say anything, he explained what had passé between him and the sniper.

Mycroft nodded. "And you have no idea what Moran could plan to do in three days' time?"

John automatically looked at Sherlock. "Well..."

Mycroft twirled his umbrella in his right hand. "While I appreciate your concern, John, I think that Moran would know that Sherlock can't be killed that easily, especially" he shot his younger brother a stern glance "if he does what he's told".

Before Sherlock could answer, he stood up. "Excuse me, but an old friend is awaiting me". He strolled out, Sherlock rolling his eyes.

"Really, you could almost think that the country would be lost without my brother".

"Wouldn't it?"

"Perhaps" Sherlock answered, taking out his phone that had started to ring. "But why should I give him the satisfaction of admitting it?"

He talked briefly to whoever was on the phone and hung up. "Lestrade. They have identified the body. I'm almost impressed – that was rather quick for Scotland Yard".

John followed Sherlock wordlessly back to the Yard where Greg led them to his office.

"The victim was reported missing by his parent two years ago – we think he left their house and starting living on the street; because he was of age, no one bothered looking for him. His name was Timothy Wallace. He was twenty-three years old".

Normally, John would have noticed Sherlock's intake of breath, but he couldn't, because he saw the picture of the dead man and –

He suddenly knew what Moran's plan was. His right hand clenched as he remembered –

"Why don't you put the gun down and we talk about it?" John tried. "Maybe – "

But the young man was shaking his head, panic making his hand shake even more.

"I can't".

And John knew that he was going to shoot, saw as in slow-motion how his finger was tightening on the trigger –

He shot without thinking, and the young man fell down, dead before he hit the ground, a bullet in his heart.

He had been forced to help Moran get rid of the body – they had dumped it at another abandoned building that Moriarty owned, but didn't use anymore, and, from what Moran had told him, John had gathered that there must be several bodies hidden on the premises.

And now Moran had decided to let one reappear –

To let the world know that John Watson had killed a man in London less than a year ago.

Author's note: See? A plot! I'm so proud of myself!

So, no, I couldn't resist. When I realized what I could do with a plot point from the first story - enough said.

I hope you liked it, please review.