Author's Note: Hey guys. I thought I'd get clever. A friend of mine said that I should do a part six, and a reviewer asked what was going on with some of the stuff at the end of part five. So. I thought: Why not? So I decided to combine the idea that I had for the last chapter and for 'Holmecide Part 6' and put it up as my last chapter. This chapter takes place right after 'Holmecide Part 5' for those of you who would be confused. I know I would be confused.

This is epic. It will be epic. Enjoy.

NOTE: At the end, there will be a long list of thanks and shout outs. You can skip it if you want, you don't have to. Your name might be on it, so I suggest looking at it. Since some of you will be skipping the last little bit: DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW AND BE ON THE LOOK OUT FOR MY NEXT SET OF CHAPTERS. It will be entitled either, 'This Should Be Enthralling' OR, 'This Should Be Alluring' Take your pick and let me know.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR MAKING THIS ONE OF THE BEST RUNS EVER!

Until Gallifrey is free,

Time Lord Victorious

Sherlock

"JOHN! COME ON! TIME TO GET MOVING!" I shout up the stairs, mindlessly shoving my hands into my pockets.

"I'm coming Sherlock! Be patient!"

"NOT ONE OF MY TRAITS JOHN!" What's this? Something in my pocket? Paper... Must have been yesterday at Bart's. Cautiously I pull out the folded bit of card stock. Curious. Half of me wants to know what Jim says and the other half is thinking, 'put it down, don't look at it, let it go'. Against my better judgment I slowly unfold the bit of paper.

Sherlock

Sorry. I am. But you know as well as I that you can't be allowed to continue. Sorry for what I'm about to do. I know you hate me for what happened to your eyes, but you'll never forgive me for this. I wish I could say that we can all be friends, but I know you Sherlock Holmes. You won't let it sit, so you've pushed me to drastic measures. It pains me to have to hire people for this job. I know you'll probably find them and kill them, but that's a risk I have to take. I'm sorry. Actually, you know what? I'm not. This is about you and me, you and I. No one else.

Ciao Sherlock Holmes.

What the Hell? It must be nothing. Whatever Jim did was yesterday. Not today. He gave me that yesterday. I can't help it, I can't stop them, the tendrils of fear that burrow into my heart. I swore I didn't have one, maybe that was Moriarty's goal, to prove I do.

"JOHN! GET YOUR ARSE DOWN HERE! WE'RE GOING TO BE LATE!" I shout, still staring at the note in my hands. Could it be what I think? Possibly. John's door squeaks open and he nearly falls down the stairs as he tries to pull his shoes on.

"You still haven't told me where we're going." He grins, looking up at me.

"I don't like going to concerts alone, I would be much obliged if you would come with me." His smile broadens,

"If they play anything like you, it would be my pleasure."

"Oh, they are loads better then me. You got your coat?" He looks down before shaking his head,

"Left it at the bottom of the stairs."

"Quickly now. Traffic is horrendous at this time of day." He frowns as he leads me down the stairs,

"Then why are we going?" He mumbles, more to himself then to anyone. I know that he didn't really intend for me to answer but I can't help it.

"I'm bored, and this concert only crops up every once in a while. It's a privilege. Plus, you look like you could use some air." He chuckles as he pulls his coat on.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"And this is just for leisure, we aren't going to end up smashing people's heads in with cellos will we?"

"Purely leisure. All the same, it wouldn't hurt to bring your gun." His smile fades. I knew this would happen, "To be safe John. I don't want you going out by yourself. Not after-"

"You sound like my mother."

"I'm worse than anyone's mother." The smile returns and he takes the stairs to at a time to get his gun. I shake my head. This is why I don't associate with people. They tend to get hurt. "AND IF YOU DON'T HURRY UP, WE COULD BE LATE!"

"Whatever Sherlock!" He comes down the stairs again, stuffing his gun in his coat. There. Oh my God.

"JOHN!" The red dot on his chest doesn't move, doesn't waver. He looks down at me, a confused expression crossing his features. It happens in a split second. There's a crack, the shatter of glass, a splash of blood, and John crumples to the floor. OH SHIT! "JOHN!" I race up the stairs, rolling John over into my lap, "John?" He blinks at me tiredly, and touches his chest, blood coming away on his hand.

"He missed. Stupid."

"What?" John swallows,

"Mycroft was right. Welcome back." He blinks hard swallowing again. "Something for you in my desk. If I don't- Just- There's something there for you."

"Don't be ridiculous." John rolls his eyes and offers a sort of half laugh.

"You're crying. That means something." I'm crying? So I am. Salty tears roll down my cheeks and land on his face. "HEY! Stop it." He mumbles as my tears dot his face and jumper. "That's my job."

"Sorry." He smiles a little bit and closes his eyes. A change comes over him like I had never before seen. He starts screaming out, calling the names of people I had never heard of. Afghanistan. Anger boils inside of me, mixed with fear and doubt. Without really thinking, I pull his gun free and dash into the street. Quickly calculating where the shot came from, I pull my phone out and call Mycroft. He'll know what to do. "John. Shot. Will be back. Take care of him." I hang up and race across the street, nearly getting myself killed by a car that wasn't paying attention. THERE! A shadow, moving quickly out of the way. No other thought goes through my mind, that bastard. That heartless bastard. The man runs around a corner, stopping when he hits a dead end.

"Please don't." he begs me, tossing the sniper to the side, "It was only my job."

"John was only my best friend. Where's Moriarty?" I point the gun at his head, cocking. Luckily John keeps it loaded.

"I don't know. I received my orders on a pager." He pulls it out and tosses it across the distance. "Please, if I had a choice, I wouldn't have shot him."

"If I had a choice, this wouldn't have happened." I say grimly. He nods,

"I understand. I understand." He spreads his arms wide, closing his eyes. "Make it quick." His words trigger a memory. Suddenly the positions were switched. I am the one with my arms wide, begging the man with a gun to make it quick. And he hadn't. He'd shot me and left me there, knowing I would bleed to death before help had come. That was my fault too. I blink and stare at the man across the ally. His eyes are still closed. He's scared. He doesn't want to die. He shouldn't have shot my friend. He should have thought about it. I play with the trigger, putting pressure, releasing pressure. Shoot him? Don't shoot him.

"SHERLOCK! WHAT THE HELL?" I point at his knee caps and blow them to smithereens before turning to see my brother, staring at me, blood on his hands. "What were you thinking?" I shake my head and wipe at my face again.

"John. How's John?" The man I shot is groaning in the corner. "Take care of him. How's John?" Mycroft hangs his head. I'm defeated, a broken man. "Don't give me that shit and just tell me. Please."

"They say he's going to make it. He'll need a blood transfusion." I push past him, toward the ambulance parked outside of my flat. "What were you thinking? If you had killed him that would make you no better then Moriarty."

"Don't you even mention his name. That bastard..."

"Sherlock-"

"Don't Mycroft. Just don't." He nods and takes the gun from my limp hand, motioning for the ambulance to hold for me. I clamber in the back and look down at my friend. His eyes are barely open and he's mumbling things that I can't understand. "I'm sorry John. It's all my fault. I'm sorry."

"'Sokay." He's smiling again, the words were barely audible, but they were meant for me. I smile down at him. He can always make me smile. Even when he's dying.

"You'll be alright." He nods and slowly his eyes close and he stops moving. For one moment my heart nearly stops, one moment until his chest rises showing the intake of breath. Thank God he's going to be okay.

Several hours and a surgery later...

John's sleeping now. And I suppose I should be too. I gave him some of my blood. Now we're brothers. Better brothers then Mycroft and I could ever be. I look at him from my chair, he looks so peaceful. So... tranquil. Thank God. I can't help but remember that dream I had. The one where Moriarty killed John in front of my face. John was there for me then, and I'll be here for him now. I check his vitals. I might have time. One short little trip. I have a message to send. I tear a piece of paper out of my notebook and hurriedly scrawl a message on it to John, just in case he wakes up and I'm still gone. I hail a cab, and make my way down the familiar halls of Bart's morgue. Molly should be working. She sees me as I enter the room, a note in my hand a note for her to deliver.

"Sherlock? Are you okay?" She asks. I glare at her and she backs up a little.

"I'm sorry Molly. I've been put through Hell. Again. Would you mind giving this to Jim the next time you see him?" I shove the bit of paper into her hands and storm out of there. I have to be there for my doctor.

Molly

Something bad's happened. I haven't seen Sherlock that angry in a long time. That was when his brother broke his violin. This is worse than that. Worse then anything I think could ever happen to him. I look down at the paper in my hands, the one he forced on me. Maybe I shouldn't- Yeah, what the Hell. I carefully unfold the bit of paper and read,

TRUCE

Hey guys. As promised, big finish, as well as a long after the story thanks page. There are so many people that I would like to thank. I think it will take forever to name everyone, so I'll try to narrow it down. It's going to be hard, but I think I'll manage.

First and far most, thanks to "Sherlock", Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss, Benedict Cumberbatch, Martin Freeman, and the whole cast and crew of "Sherlock". With out them, none of this would be possible. This has been, by far one of the most productive things I have ever done.

Secondly, and it actually ties with first. You readers. You lovely lovely people who stick with me and who have read, and reviewed and put up with my stuff for this whole journey. You are all brilliant people, and I can't wait to take you on another journey with the next leg of the journey. It's going to be as awesome, or nearly as awesome, or more awesome, then this section here. Thanks to all the people who stuck with me since 'This Should Be Interesting' and will continue to stick with me to the end. You are all... Just beautiful people.

SHOUT OUTS! Now here, I'm just going to name names unless they haven't actually reviews on it and I want to name them anyway.

M.G. Montecello, cookieascrazy, The Improbable One, Mam'zelleCombeferre, Gen, flamedrAcon, IAmAVenusGirl, Maugreyfiliae, and many many more.

I'd like to thank VenganceAuthor who gave me the idea for this last little bit. I'd like to thank Arlothia for sticking with me and talking to me when I've been blank. I'd like to thank my Australian friend Pertia-BrightEyes, even though she hasn't read my stuff, she's been brilliant and so has everyone here. Thank you all loads and loads.

Don't forget to review and to tell me which title for the new one you like best. I'd also like to know what you think about this one. Thank you all again. Have a great week, enjoy your lives and be on the look out for the next forty chapters!

Until Gallifrey is free,

Time Lord Victorious