Sherlock was laid on the sofa, fingers tented beneath his chin and eyes closed in contemplation when his phone started vibrating on the table.
He glanced at the clock - 10.30pm - too early for John to be calling, he thought. Unless he wanted something? Or needed...
He flung himself into a sitting position and reached for his phone.
Without paying any attention to the number on the display, he answered.
"John?"
A recognisable laugh at the other end indicated otherwise.
"Oh, Sherly." Jim chuckled, "You really do have it bad, don't you?"
"Jim." Sherlock replied flatly. His stomach roiled as a thousand different scenarios presented themselves to him.
"Well, Sherly," Jim continued, ignoring Sherlock's obvious inner turmoil, "You were half-right, of course. Your Doctor Watson is, in fact, here with me. Say hi, John!" Jim sang, his voice echoing in the void of the warehouse.
Sherlock strained his ears to listen. Was John really there, or was this another one of Jim's tricks. He didn't hear anything except a scuffle at first, then, after a moment and a loud thud, he heard a familiar voice.
"Sherlock?"
It was John. His John. Jim had John.
He fought the panic that rose in him, winding its fingers around his nervous system and threatening to squeeze the life out of him.
"What do you want?" Sherlock finally said, battling to keep his voice calm and steady, not showing his true terror.
"You, Sherlock." Jim responded matter-of-factly. "I want you. A car will be there in five minutes. If you try any funny business, do not expect to be seeing John any time soon. Perhaps I will keep him for myself. He does seem like he would be such good fun to play with." the Irishman taunted before hanging up the call.
Sherlock slowly stood and crossed to the bedroom. This was it then. He knew what he had to do.
He headed to the bedroom and dressed before going up to John's room and retrieving his pistol, tucking it into his back pocket.
Wrapping himself in his trademark Belstaff and blue scarf, he headed down to the street to wait for the car, sending a single text message as he exited 221.
"Sherly!" The Irish tones were really starting to grate on John's nerves now, and he almost growled as Jim purred out Sherlock's nickname. "So wonderful of you to join our little soirée!"
Sherlock shrugged off the grip that Moran had on his arm and looked across to John. He looked hurt. Split lip and possibly a broken nose. He resisted the urge to cross over to him, deciding that would be too much showing his hand.
The look didn't escape Jim's attention, of course. He tilted his head, smiling at John and then turning back to Sherlock before nodding a silent instruction to Moran.
Moran nodded back and pulled his pistol, levelling it once more at the doctor's head.
Jim extended his hand towards Sherlock and raised an eyebrow.
"The gun, Sherlock." he demanded with a beckoning curl of his fingers. "I know you have it. Don't be doing something stupid, Sherly. Really. Please?"
Sherlock sighed and reached for the weapon.
"Slowly..." Jim warned, approaching the detective warily. "You know how trigger-happy my Sebby can be." Jim winked at Moran who chuckled maniacally.
Sherlock glanced briefly to Moran and John and turned back to Jim, carefully handing over the loaded pistol.
Jim tutted. "Really, Sherly, I am disappointed. I tried to make this easy for you. I really did. You come with me and John doesn't get hurt. I gave you the chance yesterday. There was no need for it to come to this. There really wasn't." he shook his head and sighed, coming in close to Sherlock and standing toe to toe.
"But now, now it is just a simple swap, right? John for you. You come with me, and your little pet gets to run free." Jim raised his hand and stroked a finger along Sherlock's cheekbone. "However", he continued, flatting his hand and cupping it on Sherlock's face, "if you refuse, of course, your friend John here will meet the same end that your friend Suzette did. I'm sure we can make it look like a suicide, can't we, Sebby? What do you think? His new lover leaves him so he kills himself? Sounds plausible, right?"
Moran nodded, an evil grin spread across his face. "Sounds feasible to me, boss." he agreed.
"So, Sherly." Jim said, pulling Sherlock's face down to his and planting a long, unreciprocated kiss on his lips, "What's it to be?"
Sherlock pulled back from Jim's kiss and extended his hands out in front of him, keeping his distance and taking up an aggressive stance. As Moran twitched nervously, torn between keeping watch over John and running to his long-time boss's aid, the warehouse was suddenly overwhelmed with noise and chaos.
Men, dressed all in black, ran in shouting and waving automatic weapons, and behind them, local police followed.
Two of the team leapt on Moran, disarming him in an effortless-looking swift move, and another crossed to Moriarty who, despite being armed with John's pistol, had failed to raise it in his surprise.
Sherlock ran over to John and crouched down next to his friend.
When it was evident that both Moriarty and Moran were safely restrained, Greg entered, waving his police badge.
"James Moriarty and Sebastian Moran. I am arresting you both for the kidnapping of John Watson and on suspicion of being involved in the death of Suzette Walker."