What fiendish plans have I concocted for our boys? I'll have to make a point of treating them nicely at some point in the future.

...

The sound of the tv filled the flat, but Sherlock could tell John wasn't actually watching it, he was too stiff, too alert in his armchair, not the comfortable slouch he normally adopted. The clock thudded dully as the time ticked past. They had waited the day out in their flat, and now there were only two hours to go until Sherlock would deem it a suitable time for them to leave. John had spent several hours at the practice but left early, luckily Sarah had cottoned onto the fact it was 'detective business' and asked no more about it. It was fortunate that they'd received no visitors today, it would be tricky to come up with convincing enough excuses to explain their absence. Though when Sherlock told Mrs Hudson that they were 'going out' she had accepted it with a knowing smile he didn't bother to correct.

'You know, you don't have to come, I won't think anything less of you.' he tried for the fiftieth time that afternoon. John looked round to him and sighed.

'You're really gonna ask again?'

Sherlock thought about it and found the answer was; yes. Yes, he'd ask over and over up until he actually reached the Vauxhall Arches. He may be stupid enough to risk his safety, but not John's. When they had just been friends and roomates, Moriarty hadn't even hesitated to strap a bomb to John's chest. What would he do know they were...well, 'together'?

'And you can stop giving me that look, I'm not changing my mind.' John told him simply, turning back to the tv. Sherlock pulled a face.

'You can stop that too.'

Sherlock heaved his most melodramatic sigh in response, contenting himself to look over old case files instead of sulking.

The time ticked past, the world whizzed by outside their window and it wasn't until the last amber rays began to sink behind the skyline that Sherlock grabbed his coat.

'Come on then.'

...

'You alright?'

'Yes Sherlock, we've been over this. I'm completely fine.'

'Hmm.'

'What about you?'

'Never better.'

The two of them stood at the entrance to the Arches, a lukewarm spring breeze playing around them. If Sherlock had ever found the Arches intimidating beforehand, they were damn right eerie now. The darkening sky above them was pinpricked with tiny stars and wispy grey clouds were slowly hovering over them. The hubbub of traffic was dulled, barely a background rumble.

Sherlock took a deep breath to steel himself, there was a slight, vague feeling of dread he couldn't completely shake off. Last time he'd had a confrontation with Moriarty, he'd been confident and sure that he'd make it out unscathed, however once John had been thrust into the equation that confidence had been, understandably, shaken.

'You know, you never did tell me why you went off to see Lestrade.' John said lightly.

'Not the time John.' Sherlock cut across, giving him a small smile. John huffed and thrust his hands into his pocket, surveying the surrounding area with detached interest.

'Still got your gun?' he asked, despite the fact he could see a bump in John's waistband.

'Just in case.' John replied, keeping a steady gaze on the arches ahead.

'Scared?'

'Shitless.'

Sherlock smirked briefly, then began a steady stride into the Arches, John followed a few steps behind. Their footsteps echoed eerily around the stone structure.

'Strange.' Sherlock murmured, surveying the immediate surroundings with distaste.

'What?' John asked, his voice had a tinge of carefully disguised nervousness to it.

'This place is a haven for the homeless population.' Sherlock explained, running his hand along some chipped stone.

'So?'

'So where are they?'

John didn't offer up any answer, so, in apprehensive silence, they continued forward.

'Did he say exactly where to meet him?' Sherlock asked, once more breaking the silence. John shook his head.

'We'll find him soon enough.'

They kept walking, only the occasional drip of water falling off the walls to the floor could be heard. The silence began to annoy Sherlock. Really, what's the point of all the supervillain, cliché drenched mystery if all they were going to do was plod around an empty wasteland? He prevented himself from keeping a hold on John to make sure he was near, John was on the alert for any sign on danger and probably wouldn't welcome Sherlock clinging to him. Glancing back he could see the very last ray of sunlight vanish, plunging them into even thicker darkness. Still he pushed on, concentrating on the sound of their footsteps.

Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by a sound that made both him and John stop short. It came softly at first, barely an echo, but it gained volume, like it was getting closer. Sherlock strained his ears and it didn't take long for him to realise the sound was of someone humming. Humming, bizarrely, what sounded suspiciously like ForHe'sAJollyGoodFellow.

'Is that?-' John began, cutting himself short as Moriarty sauntered around one of the corners, hands nonchalantly in his pockets with a smile on his face.

'Evening boys.' He greeted them. Sherlock narrowed his eyes, every particle of his body was itching to deliver a right hook right into the man's smug face. Nothing would give him greater satisfaction.

'Oh Sherlock babe don't scowl. It's not a flattering look for you.' Moriarty simpered at him, the tone making his skin crawl. He made himself match Moriarty's stare, but not his twisted smile.

'I'm glad you could accept my invitation.' Moriarty continued, 'I'd have thought you'd two would be...busy.'

'I'm surprised you wanted to have this little meet up, world of crime hit a downer?' Sherlock shot back, enunciating every syllable with as must disdain as he could muster. Moriarty just waved his hand.

'Never better thank you-' he paused and cocked his head round to look at John. 'Hi Johnny.' he smiled, before looking back to Sherlock. Sherlock, in turn, continued to stare daggers.

'What do you want?' He snapped loudly, wishing he had John's gun in his hand at that exact moment. Better to kill the creep now than to let him stay and ruin everything. He could hear John's steady breathing behind him, giving a sort of reassurance that Sherlock wasn't totally outnumbered should Moriarty's cronies turn up.

'I take it you came alone?' Moriarty enquired, raising an eyebrow. Sherlock risked a glance at John, the only living soul who also knew about this little meeting.

'Of course.' He spat. Unsuprisingly, the smarmy grin widened.

'Oh babe that was silly. Really, I gave you more credit than that.'

Sherlock spun round and, sure enough, his eyes picked out the dark, hulking shapes of faceless henchmen lurking in the shadows. John withdrew his gun, not aiming at anyone but still keeping it close. Moriarty let out a low laugh.

'Now now, no need for that. My boys are just here in case you get a little...squiffy.'

'You haven't answered my question.' Sherlock growled softly, 'What do you want?'

'Remember our little game Sherlock?' Moriarty teased, tapping his own temple with a forefinger. Sherlock felt his skin prickle with self-disgust, a 'game', that's what he had thought of it at first. Of course he remembered, it had been great fun. Now he looked back on it, he felt a twinge of shame at his previous cavalier attitude to people being strapped to bombs. He regretted that now, in his darker moments, he felt a terrible guilt at having been indirectly responsible for the old lady, not to mention the dozen people in the flat with her...

Breaking into his own thoughts, Sherlock gave a curt nod.

'Excellent. Well, in my little absence I became so bored Sherlock. It's horrible being bored don't you think? So I spent a bit of time devising a brand new game for us! Isn't that exciting?'

Sherlock's expression remained grim. In what concievable way did the psychopath think Sherlock was going to find this information exciting? Was he seriously expected to be happy at the prospect of more people being put in danger? Moriarty pouted at his lack of response.

'Oh come on, I know you've been waiting for this...the thrill of the chase, how can you resist?'

'Stop it.' Sherlock snapped. Even in his posistion of the moral upper hand, he could feel the pull, like a gravitational force, to the prospect of a new challenge. He felt slightly sick, itching at the thought but biting it back.

'If I refuse?' he ventured softly.

'Well, you can go home and I just play by myself. But I do love playing against the perfect opponent. Just you and I again Sherlock.'

Sherlock's frown deepened. 'Tell me.'

Moriarty practically danced with glee, baring all his teeth in an extremely feral grin. 'Like last time. I'll even play nice and give you clues.'

JustyouandI...It'd be a battle of wits, of minds. Comprehension cleared through Sherlock's misgivings, he knew he was smart enough. He did it last time.

It'snotjustyouatstake. A voice piped up in the back of his mind, it sounded annoyingly like John. Of course there'd be risk...but if he won...surely it'd be worth it if Moriarty was brought down?

'Don't leave me hanging Holmes.' Moriarty said lowly, a hint of menace now lacing his couldn't bring himself to give any sort of answer. All this bloody emotional trauma and self conflict was certainly becoming increasingly inconvienient. It was times like this he was thankful for having a backup.

He cast a glance back at John, who was still tense, ready to fight if necessary. Their eyes met briefly. It was a signal of how close they were that John and he could read each other like books.

What do I do?

John's mouth formed a grim, thin line. His eyes remained soft as he gave a curt nod.

Do what you need to. I'll follow your lead.

Sherlock nodded in return then turned back to Moriarty, who was still smiling expectantly.

'Fine.'

'Oh fantastic!' Moriarty trilled, clapping his hands, 'I just knew you wouldn't dissapoint.' His eyes became hard again, all trace of his jovial side gone. 'But we musn't forget little Johnny in all this.'

Sherlock stiffened. There was no way he was letting the psychopath touch John. Behind him, he heard John take a step forward, his silence speaking volumes (most of which included 'why me?' and 'oh what now?').

'Don't be like that Sherlock I have no intention of hurting Johnny.' Smirked Moriarty. 'It's true that my proposal is just between us, but that doesn't mean your boyfriend can't have some fun.' He paused, straightening his already immaculate tie, 'Besides, I want him to meet an old friend of mine.'

He looked past Sherlock to John, who narrowed his eyes suspiciously. A shape moved behind Moriarty. Sherlock sighed, had the rehearsed this? All for dramatic effect surely.

Moriarty's eyes glinted with keen venom 'You'll recall Klause I'm sure.'

The shape moved forward into the dull light of where they stood, revealing a slightly built man. The newcomer had a pale, rat like face with cruel dark eyes and a faint smile that was incredibly unnerving. His dark hair was smothered in oil and shone dully. Nothing about the man was particularly exceptional.

Except...the second the man came forward Sherlock heard John draw in a sharp intake of breath. Spinning around Sherlock was amazed at the look of pure terror on John's face, the deep blue eye widening with shock, mouth slightly open. John stumbled a few steps backward.

'You.' John whispered.

'John.' Sherlock said sharply, directing John's attention to him, 'You know this man?'

John's gaze flickered back to the two men in front of them, lingering on the newcomer with fear Sherlock was alarmed to see. His lower lip trembled as he answered, the words rushed and panicked;

'I-It's him Sherlock. The Sculptor...'

Sherlock shook his head in confusion, the name was unknown to him. John swallowed and forcibly held Sherlock's eyes, his face pearl-white.

'This man took my eye.'

...

* dramaticmusic*SweetmotherofZOD,shithasnowhitthefan.

I apologise profusely about how long this took. I stumbled across the 'Portal' fandonm accidently and had to fight off several thousand turrets to write this. Also, 'Swan Lake' is taking up a helluva lot of my time at the moment, but fear not! I have not forgotten you gorgeous people.

Next time: 'This man haunts you, how can I help you if you won't let me understand?'

See ya x