Warning: Language and violence in this, my friends. Just to make sure.

John hadn't expected to see Irene Adler here of all places. Actually, maybe that wasn't such a surprise given her activities. No, he was surprised because he'd been told that she was dead and gone after being executed by some sort of terrorist cell…Or at least that was what he thought had happened. If he thought it over though, then he could recall the fact that Sherlock hadn't seemed too broken up about her death. At the time he'd simply assumed it was because he was hiding his emotions as per usual, but maybe that wasn't the case. The detective had just disappeared for a span of time with no explanations posed and no cases to take him anywhere out of the country…So maybe…

It was an effort to keep from rolling his eyes and cracking a smile at Sherlock's antics. Of course he'd go after the woman. His attention was soon back to the conversation he'd joined. To be honest, he would rather be gouging his eyes out than talking with these people. They'd never guess that, of course. John had spent years becoming the one of the best assassins in the world, and he was far more capable of adapting and blending into a situation than most gave him credit for…Except for Jim. The criminal had a rather unique perspective so far as that went however, so John wasn't entirely sure if he should be counted. At any rate, his smiling and laughing was all a very convincing show. The suit was still uncomfortable, and he still wanted to kill something. His left hand had already picked up the barely noticeable tremor that came with going too long without killing anything.

A hand passed him a champagne flute at some point during the conversation, but when John turned to see who had given it to him the person had already disappeared into the crowd. Eyes narrowing minutely, the assassin searched for Jim quickly. It wasn't hard to find the other. Jim was mingling just as he was. He seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself as the man all but controlled the conversation of the people he was speaking with. A fact they didn't seem to mind as he looked to be in the middle of a rather energetic story of some sort or another. Shaking a head, John brought the glass flute up…and paused as something caught his eye. He might not have the observation skills of a Holmes, but he was always cautious when given something that he didn't know the source of. His paranoia was obviously paying off because he'd caught the powder on the rim of the glass. Bit not good for him, but he'd caught it in time to ensure that he wasn't drugged by whatever had been placed in the drink. He needed to find who had given it to him in the first place…Actually; he needed to pay attention to who was around Jim.

The criminal had explained that he wasn't coming as 'Moriarty' but rather as a representative. So far as anyone else knew, Jim was only a close partner of the faceless consultant criminal. John obviously his 'bodyguard'. Anyone who was stupid enough to try and threaten Jim to get to his 'boss' would want to ensure that said 'bodyguard' wasn't able to do his job. It was basics, really. John had done this same trick plenty of times when a contract required it to actually be accomplished. It just meant that he'd likely get to kill someone after all. The fact that he was honestly relieved by the fact that he'd get to kill some idiots who actually thought threatening an entity like Moriarty was possible made him feel relieved might have been a sign of his mental state. John didn't really care however. He had a job to do, and apparently he had people to kill. It almost made wearing the suit bearable. Almost.

With a smile, John excused himself from the conversation and walked around the ballroom for a moment. He passed behind some décor that allowed him a perfect spot to smoothly dump about half the champagne out, and when he re-emerged on the other side he had already brought the glass up as if he'd just taken a drink. The assassin's gaze was sharp as he scanned in an almost causal manner for anyone who might have been watching him and waiting for him to finally drink the champagne. He didn't see anyone that stood out at first. That left him in a rather interesting predicament, as it were. John knew that someone had been trying to drug him. That much was obvious, and now that he'd took the initiative to act as if he'd taken the bait he'd need to do his best to fake his way through the stages of being drugged. Considering he didn't even know what they'd used he'd just have to hope for the best on that front. It wasn't his preferred plan, but it was about all he had at the moment. That and keeping an eye on Jim now. Which he'd been doing, but now he had to ensure that he knew exactly when Jim was going to be assumedly approached and taken off. Probably to one of the rooms within the mansion that weren't being used as the guests were all crowded in the ballroom. Leaving him far too many rooms to search for his tastes given Jim wouldn't have the longest time span to stay safe in a situation like that. He could almost imagine the sarcastic, biting comments coming out of the criminal's mouth all while being accented by the Irish lilt he possessed. This was turning out to be a wonderful evening, and they were only around an hour and a half in.

As John started up the search for a new conversation to slip into he was stopped but a man that seemed to be one of the guests. The assassin gave him a smile, but after a few short greetings and preliminary niceties, it was quite obvious that he wasn't going to get out of talking to this man. Something in the back of his mind counted that as a bit odd, but while he didn't quite ignore his suspicions he pushed them to the side for the time being. The conversation was the same, more or less, that he'd been having before with the larger group. The difference this time being that he had a greater part to play now. Throughout his time spent talking with this man –Richard, apparently—he'd kept an eye on Jim. The criminal was still talking between groups. Every so often the man would glance around for him, then meet his gaze before turning away again.

It was during one of these times when Richard interrupted him, having apparently caught his wondering gaze, and brought his attention back to him. He looked concerned, but John could tell quite easily that it wasn't any kind of genuine concern. It seemed 'Richard' had grown tired of the mask he had been trying to wear just as the rest of them did.

"You alright, mate?" he asked, resting a hand on John's shoulder before he took the champagne flute from him and set it out of harm's way. Considering the fact that he was supposed to have been drugged, the assassin found this opportunity as good as any.

"I'm f-fine…" he stuttered out, allowing for a shaky sway of his body.

"Nah…You've had a bit too much to drink." Richard said, and now there was an arm wrapped around his waist. The man steered John, who had leaned most of his weight on the other, out of the ballroom and into a corridor outside. The assassin just managed to catch a glimpse of a rather unimpressed Jim watching the proceedings from afar. Looked like the distance had the criminal thinking John would actually be unintelligent enough to be drugged so easily. If the criminal were closer, then John had no doubted it would be obvious that he wasn't actually suffering from any sort of drugging. He really wasn't that good of an actor, after all.

'Richard' guided him roughly down the corridor now that they were out of sight of the rest of the crowds. It was far darker here than it had been in the well lit ballroom, but John took the time to adjust his vision to it. He was taken into a room off the corridor that seemed to have been rearranged for the purposes of the small group already waiting inside. There was a chair settled back in the corner, which was where John was sat down, and one in the center of the room where they'd cleared some space. That was probably for Jim. Until then, the assassin slumped in his seat and allowed his head to loll around a bit.

"Some bodyguard," he heard 'Richard' snort from the other side of the room.

"Just need him out of the way to kill 'Jim'," another said. "Let his boss know we're tired of him ignoring our business." That was about all John would ever need to spur him into action. There were four men in the room, and he assumed there were more that were probably getting Jim as he sat there. He could handle this. The assassin risked a glance to see who was paying attention to him. It didn't seem like anyone was, and the closest person was standing in front of him with back turned. Partially blocking his view of the room.

The assassin surged upwards and wrapped an arm around the man's neck tightly while his other arm went to his waist. A startled choke came from the man as his eyes widened, but even as the other three in the room turned in alarm John was already wrenching. His expression remained cold and unfeeling, gaze ruthlessly calculating, as the snap of a neck seemed to echo in the room. A moment of calm as the body fell to the ground, then everything erupted in chaos and panic.

As the three in the room panicked and scrambled and clawed for any weapons they might have on their person, John was already smoothly pulling out his own. Handgun. A beautiful handgun. A Desert Eagle with a built in silencer that was the color of polished silver. There were a few artfully engraved designs in the side of the gun that were almost a bit too flashy for his tastes, but he couldn't condemn the quality of the gun nonetheless. It shot beautifully too. Three quick bullets and as he smoothly pulled the trigger, and he'd managed to get a fatal shot to each. One to the head –the first, one through the neck—the second, and poor 'Richard' had been caught in the chest. He was the one that was going to last the longest, but would inevitably die given time. The room was filled now only with the soft gurgles of the second, and Richard's pained whimpers. Blood splattered the wall behind the three he'd just put down, and while it wasn't his cleanest kills there had only been the soft pops that came from his silenced gun. He'd have to thank Jim when the criminal finally arrived.

Thankfully he wasn't kept waiting. The assassin had taken to leaning against the wall by the door as he admired the gun some more. When the door opened and Jim was lead in just as roughly as John had been – though the criminal was smirking – the hireling that was following behind had only a second or two to realize that his fellow accomplices were dead before John blew his brains out. Much to Jim's chagrin as he leapt back out of the way of the splatter of gore. John could almost roll his eyes as the criminal all but obsessively checked his suit for any blood or brain matter.

"Johnny…" Jim practically whined as he looked at the state of the assassin. The first kills hadn't left him with any blood splattered on his own Westwood, but this one had been far closer and he'd not been nearly as lucky to avoid a spray. He hadn't even noticed until Jim had been so kind to point it out with his complaints. He glanced down at himself, but it seemed like he'd managed to only catch the suit jacket. Which, if he thought about it, was incredibly lucky after all because his shirt beneath his vest and jacket was a crisp white. At least the jacket could come off. Which it did. Shrugging out of it and folding it carefully to keep the blood on the outside and folded inwards so as not to transfer it, or show it off. He was then tucking away the gun again.

"And you thought I'd actually let them drug me," John mused with a raised brow. The criminal gave him a rather unamused look in response, but after several moments the dark eyes flashed as a smirk came to life.

"Well played," the criminal allowed, "but you really didn't have to ruin the suit."

"Least you're alive," John replied, but Jim waved that away.

"We haven't left yet, have we?" Jim reminded. John's lips pursed. The man was right, of course. They still needed to leave, and John wasn't sure if there were more than the five he'd killed so far. He could still hear the white noise of all the jumbled voices coming from the ballroom, but that was muffled enough that he'd be able to hear anyone approach if he listened close enough. No one. That didn't really mean anything though.

"Well…Let's fix that." the assassin murmured, but he was talking more to himself than Jim now. A fact the criminal seemed to pick up on as John brushed past him and started going over the bodies quickly. He wasn't interested in guns. Jim had already taken care of that to give him the beautiful handgun currently resting in its holster. The gun was amazing, but its holster actually had its own advantages. It wasn't so bulky as to make it impossible to conceal, and it was also easy to move about with it. Place where he needed when he needed. Jim had pulled out all the stops in giving the gun to him. John admitted that he'd needed one as his weapons were all hidden within the flat, and he couldn't very well go get them without suspicion. The criminal could have just given him a gun to make do with until he could get to his own weaponry rather than getting that. John certainly was not complaining to have such a gun in his possession, but it seemed like overkill to him.

"Idiots," John breathed as he stood, lips twitching into a bit of a frown as he didn't find what he wanted on the bodies.

"Care to share?" Jim asked lazily as he examined his nails.

"I wanted a knife, but none of them have –"

"Johnny." Jim interrupted, and the other's tone of voice was more than enough to have the assassin's brows furrowing as he turned. They promptly widened as he blinked in surprise at what seemed to have magically appeared in Jim's hand.

"Believe it or not, Johnny, I can handle myself." Jim said with a raised brow as he allowed the knife in his hands dangle from in between two fingers. "I just chose to let others to keep my hands from getting dirty." John moved forward after a moment spent taking in those words. He accepted the knife when it was held out to him and he looked it over for a moment. There were initials in the knife. Considering how they weren't Jim's, he assumed that the criminal had pick-pocketed the man who's head was now blow onto the wall. Judging from the smugness shining in the other's dark eyes, John was sure he was right.

"Right…Let's go." John said, tucking the knife away safely out of sight. The criminal only gave him a 'lead on' gesture and John fought the urge to roll his eyes. He slipped out of the room and checked the corridor before Jim followed behind. John was sure to shut the door before they headed down the corridor. It seemed to circle all the way around the ball room. Of course branching off at spaces and intervals, but if they kept going they'd reach the front entrance and make it out easily.

Nothing can ever just be simple when Jim is involved. That was what John was seriously starting to think when two men rounded the final corner ahead of them and paused mid-conversation. One pulled a gun while the other grabbed for what appeared to be a cell-phone. The assassin went for quickness and over looked the gun in favor of flinging the knife at the one with the phone. It was not a perfect throw. The distance between them was too great, and John didn't have his own knives which were made with aerodynamics for throwing them in mind. He hit the man, however, and the phone was dropped as he cursed and leapt back in alarm. The knife had solidly impacted in his upper thigh. Jim had already taken cover with no gun of his own to return fire, and that was rather intelligent considering the man with the gun at the corner was firing…and he didn't have a silencer.

"Sir!"

"Donovan?"

"We've got a shoot out up at the Fairchild Mansion,"

"What?!" Greg Lestrade sputtered, grabbing his coat and all but herding his Sergeant to get out the door and to one of the squad cars with him. He wasn't the only one. Several officers were rushing to do the same.

"What in the hell is going on?" the DI demanded. It wasn't a secret that many people that paid visits to the gatherings held at the mansion from time to time were not exactly the most savory of people, but they were rich. Rich in the way that required body guards and keeping the police out of their affairs so as to avoid questions of how they got so rich in the first place. If something was happening up there, then it was big.

"Reports of shots have been coming in. Apparently it's just getting worse." Sally told him as they, along with plenty of back up, headed off towards the mansion.

"This is insane!" John hissed as he unconsciously shielded Jim as the two of them all but ran for the doors. John wasn't even bothering to hide his gun. It was sheer and utter madness in seconds. Apparently putting that many paranoid, rich people in the same place with armed escorts and guards was a very bad idea when someone decided to shoot. The unsilenced gunfire had caused a panic in the ballroom. The happy conversations turned accusing quickly. Fingers were pointed as almost none of the people in there were actually any kind of friends. Then someone snapped under pressure. More gunfire. Chaos.

"That was rather the point." Jim grinned back, and the assassin shot the other a sharp look in return. John was on edge now too. He worked in the shadows. His entire profession almost always involved stealth. The Markstein contract in broad daylight had still required stealth. This was practically a war zone, and he very much wanted to just get out and away as quickly as possible. Thankfully they'd already been close to the doors, and while John had needed to shoot several people to get out the front doors they were soon outside as the violence continued inside. The car that had dropped them off was waiting already, furthering the growing feeling that Jim had planned this all. It wasn't until they were safe inside the vehicle and smoothly leaving that John bothered to try and get answers.

"What was that about?" he questioned, but his pupils had long since dilated from the sheer rush of adrenaline he'd gotten from that. It wasn't going to be dying down anytime soon. The assassin was half surprised to find Jim's dark eyes had grown darker because the same appeared to have gone for him so far as adrenaline.

"I wanted that to happen." Jim laughed, flashing a dark and almost maniacal grin. "Think about it, Johnny. In our little sphere of the population, people know my name. Once all of them are sitting in a cell, they'll want someone to go after the people they pointed a finger at when everything started deteriorating…The people they'll think, in their little minds, was out to kill them all along and vice versa…and they'll want the perfect crime done."

"That leaves me to pick and chose who I want to use and who I can get rid of," Jim continued on, "How to strengthen my web. All because no one can play the game better than me."

"You're insane," John snapped in response. "If one shot had gone off earlier we might not have made it out at all!" His unease with the situation to begin with due to his general nature as a silent killer providing the spark, but his adrenaline rush –unlike anything else he'd felt before and only growing with the tension hanging in the vehicle—was what was leading him to ignite and snap. Jim seemed just as unstable. The criminal maintained a well enough mask, but John already knew his mood swings were deadly. That wasn't really stopping him at the moment from pushing his luck.

"Ooh…Johnny were you scared?" Jim mocked. "Afraid you were going to get shot again?"

"We both could have died." John growled.

"Do you really think death matters to me? Mine or anyone else's?" the criminal countered, eyes flashing dangerously.

"Wish I'd have known that before I jumped in front of a fucking bullet for you," John watched as Jim's eyes narrowed in response to the venomous comment. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed the driver had a white knuckle grip on the steering wheel and kept glancing back at them in the mirror as if he was terrified. It occurred to John then that he was in a screaming match with Moriarty. Consulting criminal. Psychopath. Something was to be said that neither of them were backing down from this either.

By the time they reached Jim's flat, the criminal was stalking up the door with John following close behind. Tensions high. Adrenaline fuels tempers getting no better as they both seemed to be feeding off of the danger each other radiated. The challenge. They made it to the sitting room before Jim snapped and lunged at John. The assassin managing to just keep himself from falling backwards to the ground as he tried to maintain a stable footing. He tried to strike back on reflex and he caught Jim right in the side, but the man's size and stature was deceptive and his hold would not be broken even as his eyes were practically black fires. Before John was able to retaliate further Jim was twisting a hand in the assassin's short hair and yanking his head back so allow himself to have the high ground. The criminal was then crushing his mouth to John's. Surprised, John didn't react favorably at first. He tried to push the other away, knock his base away. To do something. That didn't last long in the conventional way, because soon John was pressing back into Jim.

This was not a nice, gentle kiss. It wasn't sweet. It wasn't loving. It could hardly be called a kiss at all, really. It was all teeth and hissed curses and pain. Both of them were far too high on adrenaline, danger, and pent up emotion and anger concerning each other to be anything but violent. Controlling. Jim had the upper hand at the moment, but John had no intention of taking that lying down. It wasn't really in either of their natures to back down, and both of them were fighting for dominance and control even as –somehow—they made it to Jim's bedroom. The door slamming shut behind them.

Hi! I'm keeping up my promise of it not being a BAM they're in love fic in case anyone was still wondering. What I just wrote, in my mind at least, is not realistically going to be all sunshine and bubbles in the morning, but just in case anyone got that idea thought I'd throw that out.

So, couple important things. I don't feel like writing a smut chapter right now. I might write this scene as a separate one-shot once this is over, but in case anyone is worried before I get to the next chapter: its consensual. One of them would have killed the other already if it wasn't.

Have a good day

Reaperess ^_^