Readers! This is one of the last chapters! Because I have a third story (threequel?) coming up. With stuff. And yay! Enjoy! More to come!

Adele had never been so bored in her life. Apart from when she'd spoken to Anderson. And Donovan. And Lestrade. So maybe it was all contradictory.

Scaring John with the knife had now gotten boring, and quizzing Sherlock about where he'd been probably wouldn't be a good idea. It was pitch black now, minus the torch directed at the window. Sherlock would look up suddenly every so often, only to be disappointed.

'Are you going to bother telling us what you're doing?'

'No.'

'Great.'

After another five minutes of just sitting there, Sherlock looked up. This time, he must have actually heard or seen something, because he grabbed Adele's arm and practically threw her into the corner of the room. John got the message and followed, and Sherlock turned the torch upside down.

'That was my arm, you idiot.'

Even in the dark, Adele could tell that he'd scowled. He took out his gun, and John did the same. For once, Adele didn't bother; they were handling whatever this was perfectly fine on their own. This was weird, considering that she would normally be the first to quite happily threaten someone. It was possibly the fact that she hated the dark, plus the impeding threat of death and such. What the hell was wrong with her?

Adele could now vaguely deduce what was going on. She could hear footsteps, which were incredibly badly disguised. Whoever this was wasn't very good at creeping through empty houses. Idiot. Squinting through the darkness, Adele could see the faint outline of a man, although she couldn't guess much else. They stood in the doorway for a considerable amount of time, turning his head, presumably looking for other people. The darkness was an excellent disguise, because he started forwards, unaware of Adele, Sherlock and John in the corner. John was apparently ready to jump out, until he cottoned on to the fact that whoever it was didn't actually know that they were there.

The man crouched by the window, and his face fell into view. Well, probably for Sherlock and John, because Adele was too small to see anything past Sherlock's stupid arm. From what she could see, he carried what looked to be a stick, but when he laid it on the floor, there was a metal clang. It sounded as though whoever it was was loading bullets, preparing to shoot through the open window. At Sherlock? Or what looked like Sherlock, in any case. This person really was an idiot. Adele heard the click of the gun thing, and John flinched.

The man straightened himself, and rested the end of the barrel on his shoulder. For a second he was motionless.

There was a strange noise, followed by the sound of shattering glass. Sherlock sprang up, and jumped on top of the man, flattening his face against the floor. The man jumped up quickly, and grabbed Sherlock's throat. John, being John, hit him on the side of his head with his gun, and Sherlock jumped though the open window.

'Adele, throw your gun down here!'

Adele obeyed, and she heard the gun hit the floor.

'Too far to the left!'

'Well sorry, I can't see you!'

Unfortunately, the second half of the sentence was cut short, because Sherlock had fired three shots into the air.

'You could just call Lestrade, you know!'

'Tedious!'

Actually, it probably was. Within five minutes, Lestrade was striding through the door, eyes wide.

'Who knocked him out? Adele?'

'Actually, it was John. I wasn't involved. This time.'

The man was sort of regaining consciousness, so Adele twisted the heel of her foot into his shoulder blade. He yelled in pain, and Adele grinned back.

Donovan strode in, scowling at Adele. What did she think would happen, if she came with Lestrade to something involving Sherlock? Stupid woman.

'You might want an explanation, Lestrade. Think of this as you earning back your stripes. Three undetected murders. ' Sherlock looked a tiny bit too overjoyed.

'Yeah, well, you didn't exactly help. And what the hell have you done this time?'

John had finally gotten up. Two plainclothes officers, probably from Scotland Yard had grabbed the guy and pulled him up, but were doing a crap job of restraining him. He was snarling at Sherlock, who was grinning happily, clearly enjoying this.

'Hello, Moran!' Sherlock strode over to the man who had now gained a name. Moran. Irish?

'Bastard!'

'I should probably introduce you. Adele, John, and Lestrade, I suppose, this is Sebastian Moran. Good friend of Jim Moriarty's, actually.'

Moran jumped forwards, but the officers dragged him back. Adele backed away slowly, trying not to make it to obvious. Moran's eyes flickered towards her for a minute, but she scowled back, shrugging it off.

'You did surprise me, actually. I didn't think that you'd also use this house and it's rather convenient front window. Thought you might work from the street, where I could surprise you better. Might've been more… interesting.'

Moran chose to ignore this, and instead turned to one of the officers. 'You might be about to arrest me, but I shouldn't have to listen to his jibes! I'm supposed to be at the hands of the law, let this stay legal!'

'Technically, he can annoy you all he wants. You did try to kill him.' Adele grinned, and she knew that Lestrade was trying not to laugh. Unfortunately, Lestrade had a reputation to uphold.

'Are we just going to stand here taunting each other? Anything you want to say? Not too clever, if you don't mind.' This was directed at Sherlock, who was now leaning on the wall, smug. He bent down to retrieve the gun thing, showing it to everyone else.

'Good weapon. Almost silent, and excellent firing power. Made for Moriarty, actually. I've known about it for a while now, but it was never important. Lestrade, you can look after it, just this once. Although don't let Anderson get his hands on it. Bad idea.'

'Anything else? Only we need to question him.'

'What charge? And don't say attempted murder.'

'Attempted-'

'No. You need to arrest Mr Moran for murder, Lestrade!'

'Why would we-?'

'This is the man you want, for the murder of Ronald Adair! Remember? No one heard a shot! And as Adele quite rightly pointed out, air guns can be converted! It fits!'

Moran swore again, although he didn't look particularly pissed off. Had he wanted to get himself caught? Stupid man. Annoying.

Sherlock waved off a dazed Lestrade, and led Adele and John back to 221B, where Mrs Hudson was waiting by the door to the flat.

'Sherlock! You didn't tell me someone would try to kill it!'

'Technically, tried to kill me. And now!' He picked up the bullet, which had landed near the entrance to the kitchen. 'You see? Revolver bullet. He rigged it, like we said.'

'I said.'

'We said.' Sherlock went over to the bookcase, which still had about a million little pieces of paper hanging out of it. He grabbed one, and threw it in John's vague direction. John caught it, although only because it flew into his face. And John was very protective of his face. The paper was full of general rubbish, about Moran, but in the corner, or one of the margins, Sherlock had written:

The second most dangerous man in London.

'Why second most dangerous man in Britain? What makes him the second most dangerous?'

'He was in contact with Moriarty, and-'

'In contact? Bet it was more than just that.'

John looked confused. Sherlock allowed himself a small grin, and Adele and Sherlock looked at John expectantly. His smile returned as he finally understood.

'How the hell did you-?'

'Never mind. Why did he want that guy dead?'

Sherlock responded as though it was completely obvious. 'Adair probably caught Moran cheating at cards, or something. Get rid of the man who could pretty much stop him earning a living. I can't imagine Moriarty paid him.'

'Their relationship was probably a bit more personal.'

'Adele, once again, you've based this on two men who happen to be seen in the company of each other. Judgemental.'

'If you're talking about you and John, I'm not being judgemental. Everyone else thinks you should be together. You just go on about being married to your work, and he's too protective over his heterosexuality. Bad combination.'

'Anyway! How did you know Moran'd try to shoot you?' John asked.

'I've been watching him for a while, and then Adair was killed, which was one of the most transparent cases I've ever seen, and it all made sense.'

'Only to you.'

'Also he was quite obvious. A plot to kill me just after I return? The Adair case was probably just as much a distraction to me as a benefit to him and while I was busy, he could set up. Except he's an idiot, because he forgot to account that I am the World's greatest and only consulting detective.'

Adele and John just shook their heads. Sherlock went back to the table, probably to start an experiment. John went to his laptop.

'Can I put this one on the blog?'

'If you must.'