AN: Sorry for leaving this update for so long:L Thankyou all for reviewing:)

I'm not really feeling very 'into' writing Sherlock fanfiction at the moment so for a while, the updates are probably going to be really spaced out. I'll still be writing it but maybe not uploading as much because I'm really picky with what I upload on this story because I want to write the best that I can for you guys:)

Love, Erin :)

Prompted by: Merthurr

Fan

Sherlock was lounging across the sofa in his usual dramatic way whilst John was in the kitchen, making himself a mug of tea. Sherlock's phone made an obscene noise and John whipped his head around, forgetting that his flat mate hadn't changed the text tone after Irene Adler had left. Sherlock stretched out one of his long arms and picked the phone up, flicking quickly through the new message.

"Lestrade has a case for us." He said , rolling off the sofa and pulling on his coat. John sighed and took a couple of quick gulps of his boiling hot tea before following Sherlock out of the door.

The two of them got into the next available taxi and drove down to the station, Sherlock staring out of the window mysteriously while John complained about the loss of his perfect mug of tea.

Sherlock gracefully exited the cab and strolled away towards the door. On the way in, Sherlock bumped into
Molly and said to her, "Watch where you're going." before stalling away. The woman went beetroot red, tears glinting in her eyes as she lowered her head and clutched her folder tighter in her arms. John hastily apologised to her as he walked past and gave her a comforting hug.
"Why are you here anyway Molly?" Sherlock said, strolling back down the corridor.
"Um.. I'm just giving some files to Greg.. I mean DI Lestrade.." She replied, smiling awkwardly at the tall man.
"Come on John." Sherlock said, grabbing John's arm and pulling him away speedily. The shorter man waved quickly to Molly before turning to Sherlock and pulling him to a stop.
"You need to be nicer to her." He insisted, "She did help you when you.. You know."
"When I faked my death." Sherlock said factually.
"Yeah.. That.." John answered, lowering his gaze.
"I'll try." Sherlock replied before setting off at a brisk walk down the hallway. The ex army doctor followed him quickly, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets.

They quickly arrived at Lestrade's office and Sherlock tapped impatiently on the door. Greg opened it for them and gestured them to come in. He handed Sherlock a few case files and flipped through them, pointing out important parts before leaving the consulting detective to read through them.
"They were all committed by the same person." Sherlock murmured, speaking his observation out loud.
"That's what is worrying us." Lestrade said gravely, "We think it may be Moriarty."
"So you believe in him now." Sherlock whispered bitterly.
Lestrade looked up in surprise, "Pardon?" He replied.
"Nothing." Sherlock said, meeting John's annoyed gaze and raising his eyebrows slighting as if to say 'I didn't do anything'.
"It can't be him. He's dead." John put in, looking up at Lestrade.
"I watched him shoot himself in the mouth. That's difficult to fake." Sherlock replied.
"So is jumping off a building, but you did that." Lestrade murmured bitterly.
"Pardon?" Sherlock said.
"Well, if you managed to fake that. How do we know Moriarty didn't do the same?" Lestrade replied bravely, meeting Sherlock's resolved gaze.
"I just know." The consulting detective answered stubbornly.

A week later Sherlock woke up and John wasn't in the flat. He hadn't left a note or texted Sherlock and he hadn't even taken his coat. As much as the consulting detective hated to admit it, he was worried. He was scared that John had been kidnapped again. Lestrade had seen this little seed of doubt in his mind about whether Moriarty really was dead. This seemed like the kind of thing he would do. He already did it once before. But Sherlock, being stubborn as ever, refused to go to the police. He texted and called John at least seven times but there was no reply. So, he pulled on his coat and jogged out of the flat, wondering where John could be hidden. He had been wandering around for about 45 minutes, checking all the abandoned places that he could get to when he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He whipped it out and opened the text from John.

'sherlock, i promise To you that i am okay. no need To do anything rash. One more thing, Buy milk please- john.'

Sherlock quickly scanned through the text but it didn't sound right. He read it again and then it clicked. John was in 221B. The tall man turned and ran back to the flat, desperately hoping that John was okay. He flung open the front door and jogged up the steps, stepping into the flat quietly. He saw John facing the window and reached forward to grab him. John turned and met Sherlock's eyes as a red dot appeared on his forehead. The taller man turned around slowly dreading what he would find.

Moriarty was leaning against the kitchen counter in a dark suit, hair slicked back and most definitely not dead. By his side stood Moran who had his gun trained on John's head.
"I heard you were back Sherlock and I couldn't resist visiting." Moriarty drawled, languidly, "You see. I follow all of your cases. I think you're really clever. Yes, very very clever for outsmarting me Sherlock. But you won't do it again. Oh no, I know everything about you. I've looked you up countless times online and I made sure that I know all of your weaknesses." Moriarty smiled in a sinister way, "I guess you could say.. I'm a fan.."