John stood there the bomb attached to his chest, and Sherlock couldn't breathe, his usually sharp and responsive brain went blank. This would have been terrifying but to the great detective these things didn't even register.

All he could think was 'John.' Then that bastard Moriarty steps out, Sherlock felt sick hearing the maniac ordering John around like a puppet.

Threats of course the supposed mad genius was going to threaten the consulting detective how predictable. However taking John, now that wasn't part of the game, John wasn't a piece to be moved around the chess board. John was made of flesh and bone; he had a heart and voice.

Anger, white hot rage started to flood through the younger Holmes and he could think of nothing else but revenge. Well, after getting the bomb off of John. Once that vest was far from the good Doctor, then Sherlock would see to tearing Moriarty apart from limb to limb.

John 's face became a hard mask of determination, he moved forward in a flash. Strong arms pulled Moriarty into a hold.

"Run Sherlock!"

Why would Sherlock run, he couldn't leave John behind, John was important.

"Ooh, he's feisty I see why you like him. But oh." Moriarty choked out from behind John's strong hold crushing the professor's fragile windpipe. Still grinning like mad Moriarty giggled, "Look, I have one of my own too. He's smarter than yours and I see the appeal of army men, the uniform is just adorable. Unfortunately Sebby doesn't have my wonderful sense of humor, and he is a bit overprotective. You may want to remove your hands Doctor Watson, unless you want to see Sherlock's beautiful brain splattered on the walls."

John's face lost all color and his blue eyes focused on the middle of Sherlock's forehead, the consulting detective read his own expression in those blue eyes, fear. John didn't fear for his own life, the fear was for Sherlock's.

This Sebby was a sniper, Sherlock could deduce that easily, a sniper with a laser sight locked onto Sherlock's head. John needed to get the bomb off, and he needed to get out. This is the only thing Sherlock cared about. John wasn't supposed to be here, it was between Moriarty and Sherlock.

"Oh, Sherlock how sweet. Sentiment is a disgusting weakness, I'm ashamed for you."

"What do you want?" Sherlock demanded holding the gun on Moriarty, but his eyes flicked over to John every few seconds, he had to be sure John was alright.

More threats, predictable. Sherlock just wanted the Irishman to finish with the game so he could safely remove John from the board.

"Let John go and we can talk." Sherlock growled.

"Oh, but this is so much more fun." Moriarty clapped his hands, "I love how your pet does tricks. He is a good dog. I almost want to take him home with me. But one army veteran is enough. You know how pets get jealous." Moriarty shook his head placing his hands in his trouser pockets.

"Let him go or I'll shoot you."

"You wont, because if you did you wouldn't have much time to cherish the look of surprise on my face. Then booooooom!" He clapped his hands together loudly, "No more John, and all the kings horses and all the kings men won't be able to put Johnny back together again." The madman pouted as if he was authentically upset about this possible outcome.

Sherlock clutched the Browning's grip, he wanted to squeeze the trigger, wanted to kill.

"Now, I'll let you know. I will eventually kill you. I have a special plan for that. However, this is just a well needed meeting. Stay out of my way Sherlock Holmes."

"Or what? You've already said you were going to kill me."

"Yes. I did." Moriarty's eyes started to glow and his manic grin disappeared "If you continue to get in my way and that of my clients, I'll burn you. I'll burn the ha-art out of you." Moriarty's accent became more apparent when expressing his warning.

It confused Sherlock the words the psychopath or rather the true sociopath was using.

"Heart? I've been reliably informed I don't have one."

"Oh, but we both know that isn't true. Anyway, goodbye-" A growl " Sherlock Holmes."

"Catch you later." The detective's eyes and aim followed the maniac as he disappeared through the pool exit.

"No you wont!" the sing song voice taunted and the door slammed. Judgingby John's relaxed form Sherlock assumed the red laser light was gone as well.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock couldn't breathe, he had to get the vest off of John, get it far from them both. "John? Are you alright?" He tore the green parka from his friend yanking the vest with it sliding it far from the Doctor.

"Sherlock." John's voice was breathless than more firm "Sherlock?!"

"What? Yes?"

"You alright?" the soldier asked the slightly dazed detective.

"Yeah, yeah of course. You?" he didn't wait for an answer going through the door Moriarty disappeared through. He was gone, the threat was gone.

"John?" Sherlock could see his friend crouched against the wall, his face devoid of color. "That thing you offered to do-"

"It's a good thing nobody saw that." John cut his friend off trying to bring levity to the situation.

"Hmm?" What the hell was John going on about?

"You ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People would talk."

"They do little else." Both men laughed easily, it was a happy to be alive laugh, and then a red dot circled John's chest and moved to his forehead.

~0~

Later this image would haunt Sherlock, all through the night he had to remind himself that his friend was fine. John was safely sleeping upstairs, alive and breathing.

Things were far from fine, he needed to keep John safe, the rules of the game had changed. John was a player whether Sherlock approved or not. This night was a test and Sherlock failed.

Moriarty wanted to see him panic, and even with his usual mask of boredom the true sociopath Moriarty saw right through it. Sherlock looked into Moriarty's eyes and saw dark excitment. He was mad at the world, bored with the stupidity of people, he needed a distraction.

"Sherlock?" John's soft voice nearly caused his friend to jump. "Sorry mate, forgot you were in your mind palace, but I made you some tea. I couldn't sleep."

How long had John been standing there holding a cup, Sherlock hadn't even heard the kettle.

"Sleep is for the weak. Purely overrated."

"I beg to differ, but hey agree to disagree." John smiled plopping down in his chair.

Sherlock realized he was grinning, luckily John wasn't paying attention to him, and instead his Blogger was staring into the tea cup. Sherlock's amusement over the fact that John had a chair and thus a place there at Baker Street, drained over the realization that John almost had been taken.

John was willing to give his life so that Sherlock could get away? Did the man really think Sherlock would go? Was that a soldier thing? Did he expect Sherlock to follow the order without a care what happened to the Doctor? And even more troubling, how could John his best friend, ever think his life was so easily thrown away?

John was a good man, Sherlock didn't believe in hero's this much was true, but he was wrong to say that. There was a hero sitting across from him, and how could John not even be aware of such a quality?

"John?" Sherlock broke the silence.

"Yeah." John didn't look up from his computer screen.

"That first day in the park, the day we met-"

"Yeah, how could I forget that day, I got the shit kicked out of me."

"Why did you come to my aid?"

John frowned his blue eyes questioning. "You know I ask myself that everyday." He was trying to loosen the tension, but Sherlock wouldn't allow for a subject change. John read the seriousness of the situation and smiled brightly,

"Well to be honest I don't know. I mean I thought you were younger than you looked. Which I was right. And I hate to see someone being pushed around or bullied."

"And then after? After you got to know me? You still came around."

"Sherlock whats wrong? What's this all about?" When no answer came John sighed, closing his computer. "Sherlock. You're my best friend. I was so alone. I know you think I found you in the park but feels like you found me. I mean you didn't have to be my friend. According to everyone you were incapable of friendship, but you still chose to keep me around. Me, boring, ordinary John. And you never brought up my father or sister. Never through your money in my face. You and even Mycroft were like the brothers I never had. I don't care what anyone says you're a good person a true hero. Even if you don't believe in heroes, you are one. And no one will ever be able to tell me otherwise. Now if you don't mind I'd like to be done talking like a couple of school girls and get to bed. Do try not to start any fires or blow anything up until a decent hour, preferably after eight am tomorrow. Goodnight." John smiled stretching he put his tea mug away and headed for bed.

Sherlock didn't reply, he returned to his mind place trying to delete the image of John strapped to a vest, the best he could do was lock the image away in one of the closes of John's room.

Sherlock turned expecting the room to be empty but the twelve year old version of John was standing and staring at him curiously. The bruise on John's cheek was less noticeable, the colors were fading to a yellow and green.

"Sherlock?"

"John?"

"You are the only family I know. If you leave I will too."

"John?"

"Remember you can't do this on your own." The boy turned on his heels and went back to his chair, picking up Treasure Island, carefully stepping over the chess board that was sitting in the middle of floor.

"Every good Pirate Captain needs a first mate and a good Doctor as part of his crew." Then the blond tilted his head slightly examining Sherlock's expression curiously. Sherlock glared at the chess board it shouldn't be in here; John hated it, after a handful of remarkably quick losses against the six year old Sherlock.

"I was never good at chess." John sighed returning to his book.

Sherlock left the room without a word, when had his mind palace become less of a refuge?