Sherlock slipped out into the night of Baker Street, walking aimlessly along the pavement, taking one quick look back at flat 221B where he could see the light to his room glowing from behind the curtains. He hoped she hadn't heard him sneak out after he had told her she could obviously do with some rest. Sherlock placed his leather gloves onto his hands, walking down the street, knowing exactly where he had to go after leaving a message on his blog for Moriarty to see. Sherlock remained cool and calm, clasping his hands behind his back as he thought of the evening's events. However, one memory particularly stood out for him. And that was the kiss he had given Scarlett. He was so shocked with himself the more he took time to reflect on it. He had been slightly pushy but he knew she had wanted it as much as he had done at the moment in time. Did normal people kiss as soon as they had done? But that was the problem. They weren't normal. Not one little bit of his life had ever been normal and he knew that would never change due to the fact he never wanted it to change. But Scarlett was another matter. He knew from looking at her that she wanted a stable life, one which wasn't full of thrills and danger. They were on different side of the spectrum, but why was it that Sherlock was still drawn to her? He didn't love her. Love would be an emotion far too strong for either of them to handle at that moment in time and quite clearly, Sherlock wasn't sure how to feel love. He was fond of her perhaps, she had made him feel different and of course he was attracted to her, she was stunning to him and he was, after all, just a male, not some form of robot. Sherlock walked into the theatre hall, the doors still being unlocked as he made his way inside, walking into theatre number one, noting that the lights were already on, and a tall man stood on the stage. Sherlock remained at the top of the steps, looking down at Moriarty, feeling a strange urge to pull his gun out and shoot the criminal there and then.

"Well, well, well," Moriarty smirked as Sherlock walked down one step. "Sherlock Holmes, long time no see."

"Not long enough if you were to ask me," Sherlock drawled.

"I was supposed to have a meeting with you and your little girlfriend earlier," Moriarty informed Sherlock, pacing along the stage, his hands held behind his back. "But the girl never showed...and then you removed the cameras I so strategically placed."

"Well," Sherlock moved his head to the side for a moment. "I considered it a bit rude, what you were doing."

"I thought you would...so you managed to get Scarlett to realise the truth? That her coming wouldn't save you or anyone else?" Moriarty raised a brow.

"It wasn't that difficult to be honest," Sherlock said ."All it took was a bit of honesty, but I do congratulate you, getting into contact with her and twisting the truth...but it was a very poor attempt at manipulation. And when she realised the she would only be killing herself...well...she had a change of heart."

"And you truly think I won't get to her?" Moriarty looked at Sherlock who stood three steps up, sitting down on the arm of a chair at the end of a row, turning his body slightly to look at Moriarty.

"I think you should give up trying to get to her," Sherlock responded. "Because if you truly think that by killing her you will destroy me then you're sadly mistaken"

"So you believe that, do you?" Moriarty asked. "So you're telling me that her death wouldn't affect you in any way?"

"Oh," Sherlock raised a brow. "I wouldn't say it wouldn't affect me...I should be slightly upset I imagine...but I would get over it in time and then when I did...I'd be back to my normal peachy self."

"You can't fool me Sherlock," Moriarty grinned, his voice going two octaves higher. "You took her on a date for goodness sakes! You! The man who prides himself on not needing anyone in this world."

"I don't need anyone," Sherlock said, looking him in the eye. "Like I remember telling you, I don't have a heart."

"So why did you ask to meet me here?" Moriarty asked, shrugging his shoulders and buttoning his jacket up. "What did you want?"

"I just wanted to tell you that if you plan to try and hurt me via Scarlett then you're wasting your time and I can clearly tell that you wouldn't want to do that because you're an extremely busy man as I know," Sherlock drawled, looking down onto his hands as he did so, looking anywhere but Moriarty so he couldn't tell that he was lying.

"I know you feel something for her Sherlock," Moriarty replied. "I've been watching you...the protectiveness...there's something there."

"Is there?" the rhetorical question circled them. "Because I can assure you there is nothing...yes, she may be a friend one day...but I am warning you not to hurt her."

"So you do feel something?" Moriarty replied and Sherlock rolled his eyes;

"Are you really dim tonight or is it just an act?" Sherlock wondered and Moriarty glared threateningly at him as Sherlock continued. "The girl has been through enough in her life without you adding salt to her injuries."

"So why do you care so much?" Moriarty asked. "If you're so set against falling for her then why do you care if she lives or not?"

"Because it is a waste of a life," Sherlock retorted. "She has done nothing to deserve this and we both know that."

"Please!" Moriarty suddenly yelled. "Can you drop the act! I know! Okay, Sherlock! I know you fancy her!"

"I do not!" Sherlock yelled back, trying to keep up his pretence. "I have my work! That is the one thing that keeps me going!"

"And yet you managed to find time to take her out? To take her to a crime scene and to allow her to have your room? And you're still trying to kid me?" Moriarty yelled and Sherlock went silent for a moment, the features on his face faltering for a moment. And that one moment was all Moriarty needed. His face picked up and he smiled wickedly at the consulting detective.

"Ah," he simply grinned. "You can't deny it Sherlock...so please don't bother."

"I don't think I shall waste my breath. You don't seem to be believing me," Sherlock said, hell he didn't even believe himself.

"Because you can't lie to me...I wonder what it would be like...having her here...watching her beg for life as she looked at you, calling out your name, pleading with you to save her. But you'd be powerless...unable to do anything to help her. Just sit there and watch her as the life slowly drained from her body, her last words begging you for help," Moriarty tormented and Sherlock paled even further and the man chuckled.

"I thought so," he said. "I'll tell you what Sherlock...we'll play a little game, shall we? I know you like them and so I shall leave you and Scarlett be...for some time...and then I'll come back. and even if you're not with her then I shall still hurt her...because she is the only woman who has ever captured your eye."

Sherlock lifted his head to look at the stage, doing it slowly and dangerously as he stood up, drawing his gun and holding it by his side, his eyes narrowed as Moriarty had finally managed to push the right buttons to draw a reaction from him.

"Leave her alone," Sherlock warned him. "I won't let you hurt her," he said, raising the gun and pointing it at Moriarty who suddenly slapped his hand onto his forehead and blinked several time;

"Oh," he said. "Déjà vu...you threatening me."

"This time I'll do more than threaten you," Sherlock promised, the gun clicking, the sound echoing the eerily bright room as Moriarty grinned;

"Watch your back Sherlock," he warned him. "Because I'll be after it" and then there was a sudden burst of smoke. Sherlock fired the gun several times into the mist, each time nothing was heard in response as he ran to the wood, the gun still in his hand as he looked around the theatre.

"Crap," he muttered and shook his head.

...

Sherlock dejectedly opened the door to 221B Baker Street. Moriarty may have gone for the time being. But Sherlock knew he would be back. His plan had been to make Sherlock fall for Scarlett even more over time, make him realise he may love her. And even if Sherlock just told Scarlett to leave she would still die, but it may not hurt his feelings as much. Sherlock had to hand it to him; he was cleverly cunning. But Sherlock would find a plan. He would find a way to get one step in front of Moriarty and the next time he met him, he would kill him.

"I fail to know," a slow voice spoke in the darkness as Sherlock walked into the living room. "Whether or not I should even attempt to know what runs through your head."

Sherlock flipped the light switch on and raised his brow as he saw Scarlett sat on his sofa, her legs crossed beneath her as she wore a simple grey vest top and grey sweat pants as she looked at him.

"Trust me," Sherlock assured her. "You wouldn't even begin to imagine what goes on in my mind."

"Where have you been?" she asked him quickly as he removed his coat and scarf, looking at the clock which read two in the morning.

"Goodness,"" he droned. "Is that the time? Well, best be off to sleep, wouldn't you say?"

"Sherlock!" She snapped at him. "Where have you been?"

"For a walk," he looked into her eyes and she shook her head defiantly.

"You're lying," she stated. "Tell me."

"And it so happened that on my walk I bumped into an archenemy as one does," he replied and Scarlett nodded;

"Okay then," she said. "What happened? Presumably no one died."

"Unfortunately not," Sherlock said. "Tried to shoot him...but he's gone."

"He's gone?" Scarlett asked, a twinkle entering her eyes as Sherlock nodded and shrugged at the same time, pinching the bridge of his nose and settling himself onto an armchair, crossing his legs and pulling out his violin, playing with the strings of it;

"For now," Sherlock mused. "He said he would come back even though I assured him that I felt nothing for you."

"What?" Scarlett managed to snap at him and he rolled his eyes;

"Must you constantly speak so loud?" he asked her. "And I was, of course, lying. Although he managed to see straight through it...it's almost horrible to think of classing him as my intellectual equal."

"Sherlock," Scarlett sighed. "So what now? He's gone but could come back?"

"Basically yes," Sherlock said and flicked a string. "But don't worry...I'll manage to get one step ahead of him and stop him before he can hurt you."

"Oh," Scarlett simply said. If any other man had told her that he would easily manage to thwart a master criminal then she would have laughed in their face and told them not to be so stupid. But when it came from Sherlock's lips then she couldn't help but think that maybe he could do it, for he was the most cunning man she had ever met.

"And do you have any idea how worried I was?" Scarlett suddenly raised a brow.

"You need not worry yourself over my welfare," he told her and she snorted and shook her head;

"So that means you shouldn't worry over mine," Scarlett retorted. "It works both ways"

"I hate that saying," Sherlock complained. "Because many things don't work both ways at all. It is such an annoyance."

"I came back in here to get my bag and then I find you gone Sherlock. I had no idea where you had gone and so I began to panic..."

"Then I apologise for any missed sleep you need to catch up on," he informed her, still thinking about how to stop Moriarty.

"I don't care about sleep...I care about...doesn't matter," she grumbled and stood up, walking off down the hall to his room. Sherlock would have stopped her, but he knew what she would have said to him. He knew what she cared about. And that was something that made him smile a little.

...

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