A/N: Hello, people!

I don't own Sherlock.

I have no beta.

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14 December 2015, Monday:

"If they are so brazen to roam around out in the open, why has nobody done anything to stop them?" John asked as they sat in a small cafe, watching the street.

Several men in the colours of red and blue, were situated at various entrances to the street. The ones in red had their swastika flags sewn into their jackets. The ones in blue wore theirs as head coverings.

Sherlock was frowning. "If everyone who goes after them dies, I wouldn't be shocked that no one is brave enough to take them down. It takes higher intelligence to solve a problem such as this, that's why Mycroft came to me after all."

John smirked. "You'll catch them."

"Obviously. Hopefully soon, because I don't want to be here. I hate Belgium."

"Why?"

"The folly of youth overcame me for a summer and it was the worst of my life. I'll tell you when we're not on some dangerous mission that could end up with us being killed."

"We're not going to die because you are going to put their brilliant brain of yours to work and catch these idiots."

Sherlock spared a small smile, loving how John was so confident in him. It was nice.

"You speak Russian?" John asked, shocked for some reason.

"Yes."

"And you're just going to walk up to the Russian man over there, who is at least twice your physical mass, and strike up a conversation about his gang?"

"That's the idea, yes."

"Please be careful, Sherlock."

"I'm always careful."

John snorted and Sherlock couldn't argue because he most certainly wasn't 'always careful'.

Sherlock didn't even bother to look at the serrated knife that the vaguely non-threatening man obviously wanted to shove into his stomach. His eyes were deliberately looking behind the man to where John was standing a few feet away, gun raised, expression thunderous.

He murmured a warning in Russian, letting the man know that he was about to be shot, but the man chose not to believe him. It was his choice then. His head on the line.

When John cocked the gun, the tough guy before him was suddenly shaking, dropping his weapon and placing his hands on his head. He murmured something about having a family and how he couldn't die yet. If he was so worried about them, why wasn't he home with them? Why waste his time millions of miles from home being a blight on humanity with his existence and views?

"So thrilled that you see it our way," Sherlock smirked, sending a wink John's way. "We have much to discuss."

"We need to send the information to Mycroft."

"He can wait."

"Sherlock, it would be best if we had backup. I only have one gun and it only has thirteen rounds."

That time John decided to make sense… in favour of Mycroft of all people… was not sexy in the least. Sherlock withheld his whinging because it was still during the Advent Game and he was not going to ruin his chances! Whether John and he were actually in a relationship now or not, didn't matter. Sherlock didn't like losing.

He was going to be good.

He could do this!

"Oh Sherlock," said John softly, placing a kiss on his cheek. "What am I to do with you, you git?"

"Love me, feed me, never leave me."*

Cornflower blue eyes crinkled with emotion, "Always."

A/N: Another is done!

*That is a quote from the Garfield movie.

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