Hello everyone! I've finally decided to continue this story! I've been away for almost seven months— eek! I'm terribly sorry! I've decided to start striving away from the film a little. Instead I'm going to reference the book a bit more, since it's an amazingly cute story! You should all read it if you get a chance, I'll also be adding a few dark themes and hopefully I can come up with a great mash up of the book, movie, and BBC Sherlock! You may be wondering 'All three!? BUT CAN SHE DO IT!?' Welp, I guess we'll see. This chapter isn't Beta'd, rest assure I have sent out an email, however, I am a very impatient creature and decided to go ahead and just post it.

Anyways, I'm glad to be writing for this story again! I really missed it!

Leave me reviews, I love them, and they encourage me to continue!

Enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 4

The sky illuminated with the light of the burning city underneath, Sherlock flew low, seeing the mess that the war had done, it seemed like yet again another city got caught in the crossfire. How long would this unnecessary war go on? There was many ways that this war could have been avoided; however, no one stepped forward to take charge. Even his brother, who so proudly works under the Queen's eye cowered like a scared pup and followed without hesitation, even going as far as doing the Queen's dirty work and "recruiting" witches and wizards from all over the country to do her bidding. Of course, there was those who opposed the war, like Sherlock himself did, he had heard rumors of witches and wizards who refused to participate – rumors went on to say that those who opposed the Queen were killed, or imprisoned, others said they stripped them of their powers which was a punishment much worse than death or imprisonment, but, that's what they all were, silly rumors. He hated to think that his brother would stoop so low as to actively participate in stripping witches and wizards of their powers, for he was once a wizard who encouraged all to learn magic.

Sherlock shook his head then, he couldn't believe how much his brother had changed, and how stupid he had been for once letting him drag him along, making Sherlock believe that magic would one day be the salvation this country needed, he had been stupid not see that they meant to use magic as a weapon for the war. Sherlock continued to fly over the burning city; even though he refused to get involve in the war it didn't mean he couldn't do things to delay it. He scanned the city until finally he saw it, a small blue orb, undetectable to common humans and most witches and wizards; however, Sherlock was no common wizard and that was as modest as he would get, according to John.

Messenger orbs were a way for many to send messages without being detected, and that was the very reason Sherlock Holmes was always on the hunt for them. Many contained locations of possible cities that would soon the same fate as many before, being set ablaze by corrupted witches and wizards, and Sherlock couldn't let any more innocent people die.

Sherlock swooped in to grab the orb, but just as he reached over for it he was quickly tackled. Sherlock landed on the ground with a loud thud and looked up to see a scaled beast with razor sharp eyes, although he sported the body of a creature, his eyes told Sherlock that he was human— or rather wizard. A smirk appeared on Sherlock's face as he used his powerful legs to push him forward and tackle the beast. His opponent let out a howl as Sherlock used his claws to dig into its flesh. The beast pushed Sherlock off and aimed his teeth at Sherlock's neck, which Sherlock avoided gracefully.

"I have a message for you." hissed the Wizard.

"Oh? You can talk? I'm surprised you still have the ability to do that." he said sarcastically, "I guess they haven't taken all of your free will."

The beast let out an irritated hiss, causing Sherlock to roll his eyes.

"What is this message?" he said in a rather bored tone.

The Wizard—beast glared at him with dark beady eyes, "He wants you to back off." He hissed.

Sherlock made a face, "Who does?"

"M." he said simply.

"And who is 'M'?" he sighed in an irritated tone.

The beast made a face that resembled a sneer before letting out a scoff and flapping his wings to fly off, completely ignoring Sherlock's question, and if there was one thing Sherlock hated, it was being ignored. Before he could move any further, Sherlock tugged hard at his wings, causing the creature to let out a pained squawk. He spun around and tackled Sherlock; the two were a ball of feathers and wings as they fought through the air. Sherlock bit the creature's neck hard.

"Tell me who M is!" he muffled through its flesh.

"Go to hell!" hissed the creature in reply.

The creature used its claw to dig into Sherlock's leg causing him to cry out and let go of him. The creature attempted to fly away, only to get caught by Sherlock's strong talons; he used his weight to push them down, causing them to crash hard on the floor. The creature let out a pained howl as Sherlock gripped his neck.

"I won't ask you again." he warned, "Who. Is. M?"

The creature looked at him and Sherlock could almost see fear in its eyes, when he didn't reply Sherlock slowly began twisting his neck, hearing the crunch of his bones with each movement. The creature gasped for air, its legs kicking as Sherlock continued to apply pressure.

"M-Moriarty!" he screamed before he fell unconscious.

Sherlock let go of him, he stared cold faced at the limp body, and he couldn't bring himself to kill him— not even if he had corrupted his magic to kill the innocent. Though, at this point he probably wished he were dead, they'd know eventually what happened here and Sherlock knew he wouldn't live long after that. He expanded his long feathery wings and soared up into the sky, he was curious to whom this 'Moriarty' was and why they were so keen on keeping him away.

"But from what? He murmured to himself.

It was quiet when he entered his castle; the only light throughout the sitting area was John's fire, bouncing lightly off the walls. He noticed how much cleaner the place looked and it was a sight he had long forgotten, his eyes also spotted a makeshift "tent" made of blankets perched up in the corner. Sherlock stared at it quizzically until heard the soft breathing coming from behind the curtain of blankets. Sherlock let out a soft breath as he dragged his feathered wings to his chair.

"You look awful." commented John.

Sherlock slumped in his chair; his head slumped back before turning to look at John.

"Is it that bad out there?" asked the fire quietly.

"It just keeps getting worse and worse." he replied.

Sherlock let out a soft groan as his muscles began to relax, the feathers seemed to molt off his body, dissolving in the air before they hit the ground, and once again Sherlock looked human.

"Why do you keep doing this?" Asked John, concern filling his voice.

"Because someone needs to stop this war." He replied seriously.

"I thought you weren't going to get involved!"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, "Who said I was getting involved? I'm merely— trying to ruin their plans, maybe then they'll see how ridiculous this war is." He scoffed.

"They came around again. The Queens guards, they want you to report in." said John seriously.

"By Queen you mean Mycroft?"

John let out a laugh, "Well— Yes." he said, "Sherlock, don't make a mess of this, you know what they do to wizards who do report in."

Sherlock let out a sigh, "I'll figure something out." He said finally.

"Of course you will." Replied John, though Sherlock could hear the doubt in his voice, was his friend losing faith in him?

He rolled his eyes before flicking his hands dismissively; he turned his head once more and surveyed the entirety of the sitting room.

"This place looks—"

"Cleaner?" finished John.

"Yes."

"Molly's doing a great job taking care of the place. Billy has grown a bit attached to her too."

Sherlock's eyes settled on the makeshift tent, "He made her that?" he asked.

"Yes, he felt bad that we didn't have an extra room for her so he grabbed all the blankets and pillows he could find to make her comfortable."

"And you? Do you like her? Molly." he said her name slowly.

"Yes, she's a bit stubborn but it's nothing I can't handle and plus— look! She left me firewood in case I run out and there's no one here." John dragged a piece of fire wood towards him before settling it snugly besides him.

Sherlock's lip quirked up and stood up before walking over to the draped blankets and pulling them back slightly, he looked down at the sleeping form on the makeshift bed, though this wasn't the old woman he had met a few days earlier— no. She looked younger, her face, more relaxed, her small lips parted slightly as she let out a soft breath, a small blush crept on her face, as if she knew he was looking at her, he recognized her—He remembered now, he had saved her once. He had almost deleted the event, but he remembered her.

"Molly." he said softly, "You must have really upset someone to make them put this curse on you."

He stepped back and turned to look at John, who was staring at him curiously. He could feel the pain in his leg and he had almost forgotten about the fight from earlier—almost. His thoughts went back to the name 'Moriarty' his curiosity had certainly peaked and he knew he'd have to find out more on who this person might be and why they wanted them to stay away, was he getting close to discovering something?

"You should go rest." said John, breaking Sherlock from his thoughts.

"Use a bit of healing spells and you'll look good as new by the morning."

Sherlock nodded and walked towards his bedroom, he glanced over to where Molly laid asleep as he walked over to his bedroom he could feel the warmth of John's fire as he burned just a bit brighter.