Chapter 3

Sherlock and John where consulting on a case with Lestrade about a series of kidnappings. 15 people had been taken and there appeared to be no link between them except that they all happened in London. Some were elderly, some were children, adults, black, white, rich, poor, some didn't even live in London they were just on holiday's. A whole family was taken all in one swoop. Whatever the reason that they were being taken for, it was nothing good.

Sherlock was become quickly frustrated with the lack of leads and John was becoming very worried about him.

"Sherlock, you need to eat something," John said for the up most time during the past three days, "Just have a ham sandwich or something,"

"I have told you John," Sherlock growled, "Digestion slows me down,"

"Good," John replied, "You need a rest,"

"I'll rest when those people are safe and sound," little did Sherlock know at the time, that that achievement would take millennia.

"Sherlock..." John began.

"No!" Sherlock quickly cut off, with more force than intended. John didn't bring it up again.

Two days later, on the 26th April 2018, Sherlock stormed into Lestrade's office in New Scotland Yard, with a single pace of paper, held in his clenched, gloved hand.

"I've got a lead!" Sherlock had shouted, "One of my homeless network has seen men dragging people into a warehouse in far East London, and she thinks it's the people that have been taken," Sherlock was nearly jumping with excitement. He couldn't believe that he'd solved it, he had no doubt that the people would be in that warehouse. He should of.

"You think there still there," Lestrade questioned, grabbing his coat and signalling to Anderson and Donavon to do the same.

"She hasn't seen anyone but the men leave," Sherlock reported, striding towards the door with John at his heels, Lestrade, Anderson and Donavon trailing behind.

They were all so desperate to get to those people that they didn't bother getting a warrant or a team together, not that it mattered. No one would come out of that warehouse again.

The five of them entered the warehouse very quietly, but they didn't see anyone, or hear anyone. They walked farther into the building, till they came to a strange light in the centre of the room. It was a huge circle filled with light that was on a platform that was only a few inches of the floor, they all stepped up onto this light to get a better look and what it was, something that they would regret for the rest of their lives,. For 10 seconds later, 10 long seconds, they weren't in that warehouse anymore, and they would never see it again.

They were standing on another light circle, but as they looked around them, they were no longer in the same room. They began to panic, checked their heads for injury. They appeared to be somewhere that looked like a throne room. But all the fear of what had just happened disappeared into a far off part of their minds, and was replaced by absolute terror.

They looked up and saw the man who would ruin their lives, who had ruined them before.

They looked up and saw their new master, a master who they would never truly break free of.

They looked up, and saw the one man they thought they'd never see again.

They looked up and saw him.

Moriarty.

"Arh," Moriarty sighed in that high pitch squeak of a voice that is signature to the madman that stood before them, "New pets! And very interesting ones at that!" Moriarty jumped up from his throne and strode towards the group, frozen by terror. Even the Great Sherlock Holmes, who had so often been conserved as fearless, could not even blink in the presents of this monster of a man. He was the thing that Sherlock has nightmares about, it used to be his father, coming into his room for his next 'anger management session'. But nowadays it was the thing that now stood mere inches away from him, more importantly, that stood mere inches from his friends.

"Well," Moriarty began, bringing his eyes to look Sherlock directly in his, "not pets, more like lab rats," Sherlock was court like a deer in the headlight of Moriarty's gaze. He couldn't move. This man who he had believed to be dead, who he had watched, or at least thought he watched, put a bullet in his mouth, was once again before him. Ready to destroy his life in every way imaginable. Sherlock didn't know what he meant by 'lab rats', and he didn't care to find out, but he knew he had to save them all in that moment, or, what he later changed it to, as many as he could.

And it was this promise, this vow, that ended his life.

"What's the matter guys," Moriarty chirped, "Cat got your tongue?" Moriarty through his head back and laughed at the not at all funny joke. He stopped when he didn't get a raise out of his new lab rats. Sherlock moved passed his stunned stage and concentrated his gaze on Moriarty that showed his disgust in the man.

"How are you even alive?" Sherlock growled, "I saw you! You shot yourself straight in the mouth! I saw it! I watched it happen!" Sherlock couldn't believe it. He was dead! He stood mere inches away from it when it happened. There was no way he could have missed the fact that he survived. No. Way.

"Oh please Sherlock," Moriarty replayed, slightly disappointed, "You think you the only one who can fake their own death?"

"I didn't use a gun, and I didn't do it spontaneously," Sherlock snapped back. He saw John flinch at the statement in the corner of his eye. It was still a sore subject for John. Not the fact that he jumped of a roof, although that was pretty traumatic, but the fact that he knew it was going to happen but didn't come to him about it. After everything they'd been through, he still didn't ask for his help. He knew when Sherlock came back that it was because he needed to believe that Sherlock was dead to keep the both of them safe, but that didn't stop the heartache.

Moriarty noticed the glance the two sent each other and sighed.

"Oh were not on this again are we?" they gave him blank looks, "You know, the whole 'I love you but I've been straight my whole life', and the 'I'm not good at relationships' and all that crap." Moriarty looked almost pissed off at this, which Lestrade could relate with; it'd been going on for years.

"Well, you're clearly not in a chatty mood so let's get just hop right too it," he paused "Welcome to The Island." He looked at the group, "I know, I know. Not an impressive name, but hey, it is an island. My own privet island that no one knows about. Cliché? I know that too. But it just happens to be true. Isn't that amazing?" He let out a short laugh, and then stopped when he saw the others faces.

"Oh don't look so gloomy. You're all gonna take part in some very exciting things,"

"We will not take part in any more of your games Moriarty!" John yelled at him. He was done with his games, done with them a long time ago, and he wouldn't let Sherlock get strung in to them, he wasn't losing him again. John stepped forward and Sherlock put his arm in front of John to stop him from doing anything stupid. John looked into Sherlock's eyes and saw something there that was just screaming 'please, don't make me lose you', and John understood, he talk a step back.

"Aw, the obedient little soldier following his leader's every command," Moriarty patronised, "I don't know why I didn't think of involving you lot before!"

"Involving us in what Moriarty?" Lestrade asked, he was bored of questions with no answers.

My plan to rule the world my dear Inspector," Moriarty replayed, "Come on rats, I'll show you my organisation."

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