Author's note: Time to deal with the not-cliffhanger I definitely didn't leave you with.

I don't own anything, please review.

Glass shattered as the bullets hit the wall.

"They know they can't hit us" John shouted. "Why would they – "

"Sooner or later, one of us has to get up" Sherlock answered.

"The police – "

"Do you really think Mrs. Hudson doesn't know how to deal with them?"

Sherlock quickly looked over to the others, who were lying on the floor too; Bill appeared to be in some discomfort, but it had obviously to do with his shoulder. They hadn't been injured.

"The kitchen window" John hissed.

Sherlock had thought about it too. He was certain that other killers waited for them, however.

They had to try, though. They obviously couldn't sue the front door, and the kitchen window was the only one that went round back and was easy to climb out of; and they needed an easy exit, since Bill wouldn't be able to go with them otherwise.

"Leave".

It was said so quietly that he was surprised they could hear it over the shots, but they did. John Watson stared at his flatmate.

"We are not leaving here".

"I can't climb" Bill said. "You can get out. It's logical".

"That's no reason".

John was just as calm as Bill had been when he told them to leave, and Sherlock knew he wouldn't leave him behind.

Then, something happened.

Something he could never have foreseen, for the simple reason that it was ingrained in him not to expect it. The voice that was desperately screaming a name was one he knew well, but he had never heard it vibrate with such emotion before, and he never would again.

"Bill!"

Mike was shouting, and it came from the direction of the kitchen window.

One glance at John showed him that he was thinking the same as he. Mike was in danger. If he kept shouting like that, it was only a matter of time before he was killed.

Bill knew it too, scrambling over the floor, trying desperately to get close enough to warn him.

The others moved to follow him.

"Mike!" Bill screamed, "Run! They are – "

"We have it under control, just come!"

This wasn't Mike's voice. It was Greg's.

He did care, after all, and even amidst the confusion, Sherlock was happy that he did.

They quickly robbed over the floor as more and more bullets shattered the furniture. Now and then, one flew in the kitchen too; they would need luck as well as skill so they wouldn't be hit.

"Bill" John ordered, and sensing that any argument would be useless, his flatmate climbed out of the window, hissing now and then; he let himself hang from the ledge, then fall. Judging by the sounds, his brother and Greg caught him, plus – was there someone else? It sounded like it.

"The next" came Greg's voice, and it was clear that Mike was looking over Bill; they could hear him being chastised even as Sherlock tried to push John and John tried to push Sherlock towards the window, until the doctor had enough and shoved his counterpart forward. He knew that Sherlock didn't want to leave him alone for too long.

John climbed out and jumped, and before Sherlock could listen if he was again, his friend pushed him. Resistance would be futile, so he quickly moved to the window and stood up; a bullet caused a part of the windowsill next to his right hand to fall apart, and he swung himself out and let himself fall in one swift motion.

John and Greg were holding unto him a moment later; the later grinned at him.

"One left then".

Sherlock quickly jumped away, and a moment later John stood next to him, he caught by Greg and Jim, whom he hadn't noticed before.

"We should go".

Greg didn't wait for them to reply, only turned around and ran. The others followed.

Sherlock recognized the streets he was leading them down and guessed where they would stop; and true to his suspicion they entered and abandoned house. His homeless network had used it in their universe too.

Bill let himself fall on the floor; Mike was at his side in an instant, as were Jim and John; the doctor quickly shooed them away.

"It's alright" he said after a quick examination, "he just strained himself. Let him rest."

Bill nodded, determined not to make a fuss, and John and Sherlock turned to Greg.

He shrugged.

"It was obvious you were going to do something you rather shouldn't, so – "

"So he came to me" Mike continued. "Bill had sent me a text that everything was fine, but I had my suspicions. So I called Jim and off we were".

"You fought the snipers?" Sherlock asked, incredulous.

Jim smiled.

"I can be very sneaky when I want" he replied and Sherlock turned away. The smile reminded him too much of someone, someone who was probably alive and going after Greg and his brother. He barely heard the homeless man's comment of "Yeah, I was surprised".

"What happened?" Mike demanded. "And I want to know the whole truth".

Bill told him, frankly, without concealing anything, in a way Sherlock would never have spoken to Mycroft. Mike listened, trying to hide his feelings, although it was clear that he disapproved. Sherlock couldn't blame him. No one liked to see someone they cared for injured.

Mike waited until Bill had finished. Then he slowly asked, "So you went after a criminal mastermind, who happened to be your landlady, because you couldn't arrest another criminal mastermind who had injured you?"

"Mike – "

"Bill."

There were many things he could have said and if this had been Mycroft, Sherlock didn't doubt that he would have told them what he thought; but he looked at Bill, who was stubbornly staring at the floor, and sighed.

He sat down and hugged him. Sherlock looked away, unwilling to think about the spark of jealousy he felt. They had enough to deal with.

"I'm glad you're okay". He turned to John. "Thank you".

John shrugged his shoulders, indicating that it was his job, and sat down on the floor beside Sherlock.

His doctor never reacted to thanks, even if it made him proud; he was simply doing his job, as far as he was concerned.

"What do we do?"

Bill was the one to ask the question, looking at them one after the other; his breathing had returned to normal and he didn't seem to be in any pain, so at least they didn't have to worry about him. Mike realized it too and began discussing the subtext.

"What do we do? Wouldn't it be best to – " he shook his head. "Of course not" he muttered. "What was I thinking. You will go after her, won't you?"

"We have no other choice."

It was Bill's flatmate who answered; he hadn't sat down but wandered around the room. Sherlock knew he was wondering how many clues he had missed, if Mrs. Hudson had left any, how many crimes he could have prevented if he had deduced correctly.

He knew what it was like to be haunted by these questions. He had spent three long years thinking about them every night. Only that he hadn't simply been guilty of not noticing something. He had played with Moriarty and lost, truly lost, even if some would have said he had won.

Now even that small triumph didn't matter because it hadn't taken place. Moriarty was alive and perhaps already planning to get rid of his friends.

"Mrs. Hudson will stop at nothing" John continued. "She is running a business, and she believes that we have to die so we don't become a danger to her plans. Which, frankly, is a perfectly sound analysis."

"Every killer in London will be on our heels" Bill pointed out. "How – "

"We'll have to be careful".

"You know you got us" Greg stated. "Me and some of the others."

John stared at him.

He shrugged.

"When I realized you might be in over your head, I didn't just go to Bill's brother... I asked around. Wanted to be prepared".

Sherlock remembered a moment like this too. The moment he had realized just what Greg was willing to do for him. Strangely, it hadn't been in Baskerville or when he had warned them about the arrest warrant; it had been when he had looked at him as they made their escape and simply shaken his head, allowed them to get away and not very enthusiastically searched for them afterwards.

This Greg was prepared to go up against a dangerous criminal, ready to die for his consulting detective, just like the one in their world.

Sherlock couldn't suppress the satisfaction he felt at John realizing that.

"We still have to find Trevelyan" he said calmly. Of course Mrs. Hudson was a problem – but they couldn't risk the scientist changing anything in their universe, or her doing what she wanted to this; and he knew the others would understand.

They did, if the looks they exchanged were anything to go by.

The problem was that they had no idea where he was. And that with every step they took they presented themselves to be killed.