This time there is absolutely nothing to disturb us. Having realised there is nothing further he can do here, because letting officers into the flat would clearly show it hadn't been a gas leak, Lestrade has directed his force to return to New Scotland Yard where they can be of more use trying to solve the recent spate of murders. I feel a moment of sympathy towards Lestrade because much of his workload has been a direct result of mine and Sherlock's actions. Admittedly much of it has beeen accidental. Like the time the culprit from the drug trafficking case fell from the roof after he'd run towards me and I had tripped him up. Sherlock still hasn't let me hear the end of it and keeps referring to it everytime I make a mistake (which according to him with his superior intellect is often). Though I love him dearly Sherlock can be incredibly annoying at times. All such thoughts disappear when Sherlock leans forward and crushes his lips to mine again, his hands pulling off my shirt once more as he steers me backwards in the direction of his bedroom. His lips on mine are more frantic now though somehow he stops himself long enough to gently lower me backward onto his bed. Before I am aware of what he is really doing Sherlock has undone my belt and slid my jeans halfway down my legs. For a moment he all does is stare at me, his eyes appearing to drink in every little detail of my body. Then a lazy grin spreads over his face and a faint orange glow begins to shine in his eyes. He flexes his shoulders to free his golden red wings which spread out behind him, the tips of his feathers almost touching the walls of his bedroom. His smile changes, becoming more feral.
I smile up at Sherlock, waiting impatiently for his next move. "So you never did tell me where your feathers were." I tease, my voice breathy and shaking ever so slightly as I struggle to remain in control. If I shifted now it would be disasterous and Sherlock might never forgive me. I wouldn't want that because I have been waiting for this moment ever since I first met Sherlock. Everyone had tried to warn me that he was cold and unable to form personal relationships but I had quickly discovered that beneath his hard exterior he was human just like anyone else.
With a sigh Sherlock reaches down and gently strokes his hand across my cheek. "It may be a little bit of a shock to you John." He says, a serious expression in his blue eyes. "Please don't be alarmed by what I am going to show you." He continues, his voice tinged with sadness.
Propping myself up on my elbows I fix him with a level gaze. "I saw you shift into a phoenix and absorb fire into yourself in order to save me. For goodness sake Sherlock you just healed a first degree burn which would have killed any ordinary human. I highly doubt you can shock me any further." I say, a slight smile quirking up the corner of my mouth.
Sherlock bites his lip and looks thoughtful. "Close your eyes." He says, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his trousaurs. He rolls his orange eyes at me when I continue to simply stare at him. "Close your eyes." He repeats. I do as he says and try to control the tremors of tension which keep causing my limbs to shake. I feel the bed move and hear a soft laugh beside my left ear accompanied by a waft of warm breath against my face. "Okay John you can open your eyes now." He murmurs before pressing his lips against mine. Unlike the other times the kiss is forceful and takes my breath away. I also feel the soft carress of his feathers as his wraps his wings around us. It is just then that events begin to rapidly spiral out of control.
I had noticed before when we had been interrupted by Lestrade and Donovan that Sherlock's skin had been beginning to grow warmer. It starts off as a mild warmth which is rather pleasant but it quickly grows unbearable. With a small sigh of regret I break off the kiss and press my hands on Sherlock's shoulder to momentarily put some distance between us. Sherlock frowns at me but doesn't say anything. Lightly I lay the back of my right hand against his cheek. "Jesus, you're burning up Sherlock." I cry in alarm, pulling my hand away from him with a yelp. My palm is bright red and stinging slightly. "What's happening to you?" I ask him.
Slowly Sherlock stands, swaying a little as though unsteady on his feet, and spreads out his wings to their full extent. Tiny flames are dancing over the feathers, illuminating the room with a pale yellow light. Sherlock's face is white and drained of all colour and his skin is beginning to glow with a brilliant silver light which forces me to advert my eyes. With a gasp he slumps back against the wall and hangs his head in exhaustion. "I've tried to do too much. I shouldn't have tried to heal myself after absorbing all that fire." He explains, waving me back when I take a step towards him. "Stop, please don't come any nearer." He cries, burying his head in his hands and letting out a muffled groan of pain. Unable to control himself he shifts back into a phoenix and cowers in the corner with his wings wrapped tightly about himself.
It pains me that I am unable to help him. "What can I do? Please Sherlock tell me how I can tell you. I can't stand by and watch you suffer like this!" I cry. The glow emanating from Sherlock is continuing to grow brighter and the heat is enough to cause me to take a step back. Sherlock's face twists into an unreadable expression and his eyes turn from orange to bright gold. Slowly he reaches out and touches the tip of one wing to my cheek. I breathe in deeply, trying to steady myself. If I was an ordinary human the heat coming off Sherlock would be burning my skin but luckily I have some protection against heat. "Sherlock?" I ask, keeping my voice soft so as not to startle him.
Sherlock golden eyes focus on me and I shiver runs down my spine. At that moment I realise just how powerful he is, far stronger than any other shape-shifter I have come across. "I'm sorry John, this may hurt a little." He says before closing his eyes.
Almost immediatly I feel a peculiar draining sensation flood through me. My knees begin to shake and my chest grows tight until I find myself physically struggling for breath. "S-S-Sherlock." I gasp, having to force out each word between gritted teeth. "What are you doing?" My legs give way beneath me and I collapse to the floor. Sherlock follows me down, his wing still pressed against my face. Alarm floods though me when I feel my heartbeat slow and my pulse becoming sluggish. What is happening to me? My shifter side tries to burst out, to protect me but I forcibly push the sensation back down. When I look up at Sherlock his eyes are closed in concentration and a sudden thought come to me. Could this be Sherlock's doing? Before I can elborate the thought further I become aware of a velvety darkness fluttering at the edge of my vision and I feel the first stirrings of panic. Surely Sherlock would never do anything to harm me. As though he is able to read my mind he leans forward and plants a gentle kiss on my cheek. I frown (you know I don't remember him shifting back into human form).
"I'm sorry John." His says, his deep voice sounding muffled. "Go to sleep, you'll feel better soon." That is the last thing I am aware of because the next moment the darkness swallows me up and I know no more.
Sherlock was so preoccupied with how he had lost control and fed off John's lifeforce he didn't notice the magpie watching him leave, its beady eyes bright and gleaming, waiting until he turned the corner before springing into action. Diving down from the lamp-post the magpie shifted in mid air into human form and landed neatly before the door of 221 Baker Street. Moriarty shook his head, unable to believe that Sherlock had left John Watson unprotected and alone. Not he bothering to glance behind him he gestured to Sebastrian Moran, who growled in response and padded up the steps. Then placing a paw on the door he pushed it open so he and Moriarty could enter the flat. With a soft laugh Moriarty walked through the rooms of the 221B with Moran leading the way. He half expected to come across some form of protection and was surprised when he didn't come across anything. How careless of Sherlock. As a result of his discovery he began to grow more confident and prowled around the half destroyed flat as though it belonged to him.
In the doorway of the bedroom where John Watson was sleeping Moran shifted back into human form and turned to face Moriarty. "What do you want me to do Jim?" He asked, his eyes still fierce and predator like.
Moriarty glanced over from where he was dusting ash off of a half burnt skull. "Go and fetch John Watson will you." He asked, smiling when Moran rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath. Walking forward he reached out and lightly ran the back of his left hand across his second in command's cheek. "Oh don't look like that Seb. I know you hate doing manual work but I am not strong enough to pick him up myself. Anyway if you do this for me I promise to make it worth your while." He whispered in Moran's ear before lightly pecking him on the cheek. "Once you have John Watson take him to the van and I will meet you there. I just need to leave a little message for Sherly first." He said softly, glancing into the room at John's sleeping form.
Moran noded to indicate he understood and hastened to carry out Moriarty's instructions. Once he had exited the flat Moriarty scanned the destroyed flat while he considered what form his message should take. It could be a written message or a picture... As he often did when he deep in though Moriarty shifted back into a magpie and began to lazily fly around the bedroom, curiously searching every corner. After a few moments his gaze fell on a discarded mobile phone lying on the floor beside the bed. Inspiration struck him. Tucking back his wings Moriarty landed beside it and, closing his claws around it, managed to lift the phone up with some considerable effort. He landed on the rumbled sheets and yanked out one of his own tail feathers which he laid beside the phone. Satisfied Sherlock would both receive and understand the message Moriarty shifted back into human form and walked out of the flat, aa sly grin lighting up his face. Stupid Sherlock, he was going to pay dearly for forgetting to protect his friend, John Watson. Moriarty rubbed his hands together with glee at the thought that soon Sherlock would be in his hands. He was looking forward to having Sherlock as a pet.
Sherlock meanwhile was heading away from Baker Street without a particular destination in mind while confused thoughts churned in his head. How could he have been so irresponsible? If he had gone even a little further he might have ended up killing John. Cursing quietly to himself Sherlock ran a hand through his hair and breathed in deeply in an attempt tp get his emotions back under control. His thoughts drifted to John and how soft his skin had felt beneath his hands. A smile spread across his face. He had waited so long to do that and had been pleased to discover John felt the same way towards him. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice the sizable crowd of people gathering in his path to stare at the enormous creature winging its way through the sky. Sherlock collided with the people at the back of the crowd and stumbled back a few steps. He sighed and rolled his eyes. Typical, people never seemed to anything better to do than stand around and get in the way. Several of the crowd were shape-shifters but Sherlock hardly paid them a second glance. He was still too absorbed in his thoughts.
A deep rumbling roar echoed above them, loud enough to make even Sherlock jump. He spun round, searching for the source of the sound. He already had an idea who it could be but wished to confirm his suspicions before he acted. Around him the crowd began to panic because new rules brought in by the goverment banned shape-shifters from shifting in public places. Obviously the shape-shifter in the skies above central London hadn't received the memo. Turning on his heel Sherlock continued on his way. Right now he simply could not face a confrontation with yet another shifter.
"Sherlock!" A loud voice snarled. This was closely followed by the thud of a large creature touching down on the ground.
Reluctantly Sherlock stopped in the centre of the pavement. He let out a deep sigh- great, this was just what he needed...an audience with his older brother. Of course he could just fly away but it would be a pointless action considering his brother could also fly. "Really Mycroft, just because you hold a high position in the British Goverment does not mean you can simply ignore the new laws." Sherlock said with a laugh as he turned to face his brother.
Like Sherlock Mycroft Holmes was a mythical shape-shifter, a highly rare occurance in a country where mythical shifters were thought to be legendary. Unlike his younger brother however Mycroft had drawn the short straw where his creature form was concerned. While Sherlock was a phoenix with beutiful golden feathers, Mycroft was a grey stone gargolye. As usual when having to deal with his brother Mycroft's expression was already annoyed and irritated. "I am not ignoring the new law Sherlock but as an employee of the British Goverment I am entitled to certain...benefits." He answered in a gravelly voice which sounded a little smug. He shook himself, his joints cracking as the stone he was made of crunched together. Sherlock winced at the horrible squealing noise coming from his brother and gritted his teeth. "Anyway Sherlock we need to talk about what happened this morning. Greg phoned me earlier to tell me that there was an incident at Baker Street, an explosion apparently. He also told me that he found you and John in a rather...well lets call it an interesting position." He said, curious to see how his younger brother would react. He knew that Sherlock had always had a bit of a soft spot for John Watson.
A light blush creot up Sherlock's cheeks and he adverted his eyes from his brothers. He could always rely on Mycroft to make a conversation uncomfortable. Anyway he couldn't think about John right now or he would end up rushing back to the flat in order to crawl into bed beside John. The thought made him feel warm inside and a smile spread across his face. He shook his head when he became aware of Mycroft's blank grey eyes watching him intently. Sherlock cleared his throat, unsure what to say. Maybe it would be best if he changed the subject completly. "Did Lestrade tell you about Moriarty." He asked, a smile still on his face as he thought about John's lips on his.
Mycroft tipped his head to one side while he considered how to reply and tried to ignore the goofy expression on his brother's face knowing he was probably thinking about John again. "He didn't tell me that much. Just that he was there. What's wrong, what did Moriarty want with you?" He asked, his voice worried. Behind him the crowd begins to disperse as they realised that nothing exciting was going to happen.
Sherlock breathed in deeply and ran a hand through his black curls. He froze and stared at him hand, shocked by the faint glow which was beginning to emanate from his skin; a sure sign he was starting to loose control of his shifter side. Gritting his teeth Sherlock willed himself to stay in human form for just a little while longer. Turning his attention to his brother he began to explain, "Moriarty wants me to join me, to become a sort of pet aat his every beck and call. He said that if I refused he would destroy everyone I cared, starting with John..." His voice trailed away as realisation hit him. In rushing out of the flat so abruptly he had left John completly unprotected.
With a audible groan Mycroft lowered himself to the ground and steepled his clawed paws together. "Hmm, I can see how that could be problematic. Though you may have a brilliant mind brother your heart will always be your greatest weakness. One of these days John Watson is going to be the death of you." He said, staring at Sherlock with a serious expression. "I will offer you what help I can and I suggest also that you ask Lestrade for help because we can't be too careful where Moriarty is concerned. By the way do you need a place to stay Sherlock? I assume that since the flat was blown up you no longer have any where to sleep."
Sherlock was a little startled by his brother's concern. "No its fine thankyou, it was only the living room and the kitchen that were destroyed. The other rooms are fine." He said. He could have taken Mycroft up on his offer but he was looking forward to spending some more time with John... assuming of course that nothing bad had happened to him in the meantime before he could return to the flat.
Mycroft ran a stone tongue across his fangs. "Very well suit yourself brother." He said before pausing and staring into space for a moment. "You need to be more careful with your wings. I know you were...occupied...at the time but you really do need to take more care. I would hate it if something were to happen to you." He said, heaving himself to his feet with a groan and stretchhing out his cramped muscles with a series of loud cracking sounds. "Please try not to get yourself killed Sherlock." he said sadly before unfurling his wings with a grating noise. In a single powerful bound he launched himself into the air and slowly flew away, a dark blot in the skies above London.
Sherlock watched him go with a thoughtful expression on his face. He was a little taken aback by the crack in Mycroft's usually icy exterior, for his older brother to show his more caring side must mean that he was seriously worried. He shook his head; he didn't have time to worry aabodut it now because all he wanted to do was just to get back to Baker Street in order to check whether John was alright. Turning on his heel he set off down the street muttering darkly under his breath about how it was unfair his brother could get away with shifting in public but he would probably end up in prison if he did the same. When he arrived back at 221B half an hour later he was able to tell straight away that something was wrong. Cautiously he stepped inside and began to examine the flat for signs. On the floor, clearly imprinted in the soft, grey ash, was a set of footprints (a large cat, most likely a tiger judging by their size). Inside Sherlock's head alarm bells began to ring.
"John, I'm back!" He called as he strode into the bedroom where he had left his friend sleeping. Dear god how he hoped the alarm he was feeling was nothing and that John would still be there. It didn't prevent a feeling of despair washing through him at the sight of the empty bed. Gritting his teeth Sherlock cursed Moriarty and Moran as he stumbled towards the bed with the intention of sitting down. He stopped however when he saw the magpie feather and a familiar looking phone lying on top of the sheets. You didn't need to be a genius to work out that the two objects were obviously intended as a message but for the first time ever Sherlock found his unfailing powers of deduction failing him. An uncontrollable anger began to burn within in and he clenched his fists to prevent himself frowm lashing out at something. Moriarty would pay for what he had done. At that moment Sherlock's train of through was interrupted by a shrill, ringing sound coming from the mobile. He stared at it blankly for a few moments before picking it up with shaking hands and answering it. "Hello?" He asked.
"Time's up Sherly." crowed a gleeful Moriarty. "Now is the time to make your choice. Either you join me or I will kill John Watson here on the roof of St Bartholomew's Hospital." He said, his lilting voice sly before the phone goes dead.
Sherlock hung his head. This was all his fault...if only he hadn't gone out and left John unprotected. Whatever happened now would be all down to him. Cursing under his breath he slammed his fist against the wall. Mycroft had been wrong; it wouldn't be John who was the death of him but instead it would be him who would be the death of John. Sherlock let out a inarticulate cry of anger and threw the phone at the opposite wall. If anything happened to John he would never be able to forgive himself (something which was a serious problem for a shape-shifter who was unable to die). With a shriek of rage Sherlock shifted into his phoenix form and smashed through the window, the intense heat of the fire burning on his wings melting the glass into a glittering, twisted waterfall. He didn't care if anyone spotted him, why should he care, it wasn't like any human or shape-shifter could stop him. Beneath him London spread out in a carpet of constantly moving light and above it Sherlock's fiery wings painted intricate patterns across the grey sky. Before him loomed the tall square chimney of the Tate Modern art gallery meaning he was getting closer to the hospital.
Two of the many people to spot the phoenic burning a path through the skies of London were Mycroft, who rushed out of an incredibly important meeting the moment he heard the news, and Lestrade, who rushed out of his office and into his patrol car with the images of the utterly ruined flat still foremost in his mind. Both of them were afraid what might happen if Sherlock confronted Moriarty. Both of them could still all too well remember what happened the last time Moriarty and Sherlock had met and neither Lestrade or Mycroft wanted a repeat of that.
Before he landed Sherlock circled the building a few times to make sure no traps or ambushes were waiting for him. On each circuit the roof remained empty and finally he was forced to concede that there weren't any nasty surprises waiting for him. Tucking back his wings he dived, shifting back into human form the moment he touched the roof. Still wary of his surroundings Sherlock decided it would be best if he kept his wings out in case he should need to make a quick getaway. It was unusual for Moriarty not to have been waiting for him, suspicious even... Frowning Sherlock brushed his hand through his curls and considered his next move. The phone call from the consulting criminal had applied he was already here on the roof of the hospital and now that Sherlock had arrived and found the opposite to be true he felt at a loss. How could he possibly rescue John if he wasn't even here? Anger coursed through Sherlock and for a moment the flames burning on his wings glowed brighter and hotter. Turning on his heel he took a deep breath, "Where are you Moriarty? Stop hiding like a coward and come out and face me!" Sherlock shouted, his deeo voice carrying in the still air.
He didn't have to wait long for a reply and minutes later he heard quiet footsteps approaching him from behind. Seconds after that a smirking Moriarty appeared with Moran, who had an arm wrapped around John's throat and a gun to his head, in tow. Throwing his arms open wide Moriarty grinned at Sherlock. "Hello, so good of you to finally turn up. Tell me, have you made a decision yet?" He asked, tipping his head to one side in such a manner that he looked for all the world like the animal he was able to shift into.
Sherlock didn't reply to Moriarty because he was too busy staring at John. Despite how much he had been worrying about him John didn't look like he'd been badly treated. Sure he was a little scruffy but other than that looked relativly unharmed. He did however look unsure and Sherlock gave him what he hoped what a reassuring smile but with how he was feeling he knew his smile probably looked a little flase. John returned the smile, his eyes momentarily glowing a bright, luminous green. Sherlock blinked but the green glow was gone. He shook his head, obviously he had just imagined it. Even if he had wanted to he was unable to pursue the thought further because at that moment Moriarty gestured to Moran who nodded in acknowledgment before he struck John across the side of the head with the butt of the gun he was holding. There was a sickenining crunch and a cry of pain. Sherlock gritted his teeth, wanting nothing more than to run to his friend' aid while also resisting the temptation to burn Moriarty to a pile of ashes. "Why the hell did you do that?" Sherlock demanded, his voice rising with barely controlled anger. "He wasn't doing anything."
Moriarty shrugs. "I was beginning to grow bored." He said, crossing his arms and smiling at Sherlock. "Anyway you weren't answering me Sherly." He pouted. Behind him Moran tightened his grip on John and pressed the gun against his head again. John only just managed to prevent himself from flinching and gritted his teeth lest he should protest at the treatment he was receiving.
Sherlock clenched his fists. His mind was now made up and much as it pained him he knew it was the right decision. "My answer, Moriarty, is that I will never join you. What I want you to do is let John go so we can go our separate ways and forget any of this ever happened." He spat, turning his head so he was able to keep Moriarty within sight because there was no way he was going to turn his back on the consulting criminal pacing back and forth in front of him. "All of us will be able to walk from here unharmed and go on with our lives." Sherlock continued before closing his eyes in an attempt to calm the anger coursing through his veins because it wouldn't be good if he lost control and shifted into a phoenix right now. Sherlock let out a deep sigh and forced himself to relax enough for his golden wings to vanish.
Moriarty ceased pacing long enough for a nasty smile to spread across his face. He had been waiting for Sherlock to relax and shift back into a complete human form. "Really Sherlock, you're refusing to join me?" He asked, his voice incredulous. "How can you possibly say no to me when I am holding your best friend hostage; especially since a little birdy has informed me that you and John are a little more than just friends." He said, his voice sly.
Behind Moriarty Moran shifted his right hand into a striped paw before dragging his claws across John's chest. The sharp points easily part cloth and skin with an almost inaudible ripping sound. John bit his lip to prevent a gasp of pain escaping. A thin trickle of blood dripped down his chest, staining his clothes with red. "Don't listen to him Sherlock." John cried, no longer caring about the fact he had earlier been told to remain silent. "You know he's lying to you." He didn't react when Moran snarled loudly and raked his claws across his face, leaving behind three bloody streaks.
The anger which Sherlock had so carefully managed to control came bubbling back to the surface in a rush and in an explosion of fire he shifted into phoenix form with a piercing shriek. He knew it was, most likely, a terrible idea but he couldn't stand the thought of John getting hurt. With his burning golden wings outstretched the human sized phoenix towered above Moriarty and the intense heat radiating off his feathers forced the consulting criminal to take a step back. Usually people reacted more when they found themselves confronted with him in his phoenix form and Sherlock was therefore startled when Moriarty threw back his head in order to give voice to a loud laugh. "Thankyou Sherlock, bless you. I have been waiting for you to shift ever since you arrived." He said, bowing down before Sherlock. "Moran, now would be a good time to give me the serum." Moriarty ordered his second in command as he stretched out his hand towards him.
Making sure to keep one arm securely wrapped around John's throat Moran passed across a syringe filled with a bright yellow liquid. Sherlock tipped his head to one side, his orange eyes full of suspision as he regarded Moriarty and wondered what the consulting criminal was up to. Bringing his wings together he readied a fire ball in preparation for any sudden moves which Moriarty and Moran might attempt. "Let John go Moriarty, this is the last warning I will give you." Sherlock said, his voice little more than a snarl. Why wasn't his phoenix form having any effect on Moriarty? Usually people were scared or awed by him but Moriarty was completly unfazed and was actually approaching him with the syringe clutched in one hand.
"I did try to ask you nicely Sherlock but you just didn't want to listen to me. Now we're going to have to do this the hard way." Moriarty hissed before he suddenly lunged forward without warning and somehow managed to jab the syringe into the side of Sherlock's neck despite the burning flames licking at his unprotected skin. Depressing the plunger he sent a powerful drug coursing through Sherlock's system. Instantly the phoenix's fire dimmed a little as a wave of dizziness swept over him. Sherlock shook a few times to clear it but a faint buzzing sound persisted. He let out a shriek and threw a small fireball which soon peetered out into nothing.
John struggled against Moran's grip. "What the hell did you do to him Moriarty? What was that you just gave him?" He demanded, horrified at how pale Sherlock had already become. It was obvious to him that the content of the syringe was a powerful drug of some kind but what he couldn't work out was what exactly it did. "Sherlock, are you okay?" He cried. Panic coursed through him when Sherlock didn't react. "Sherlock? Please talk to me."
Moriarty ignored him and rubbed his hands together gleefully as he eagerly watched Sherlock. "Moran, release John Watson will you? I want to make sure the serum really has worked."
Sherlock cried out in pain and collapsed, the fires burning in his feathers going out. His veins, in fact his entire body felt like it was on fire (an irony which didn't escape Sherlock despite the state he was in). He was dimly aware of someone shouting his name and glanced up to find out who it was. He frowned at the person running towards him, not able to identify them but knowing they looked familiar for some reason. John meanwhile paused in his head long rush towards Sherlock and looked over at Moriarty. Clenching his fists he reached into his pocket for the handgun he stored there earlier when he and Sherlock had left for the crime scene. "What have you done to Sherlock?" He repeated. He was taken aback when Moriarty began to laugh again. "What?" He demanded. "What is so funny?"
"Don't worry John Watson, it'll soon all become clear to you." Moriarty said, staring over John's shoulder at Sherlock. A grin spread over his face. "In fact I believe Sherlock is ready to give you a demonstration. John frowned at him, confused, before he followed Moriarty's gaze. His heart froze when he saw the look of pure hatred in Sherlock's normally gentle blue eyes. Though he didn't know what exactly he could tell that something was very, very wrong.
Opening his beak Sherlock gave voice to an angry hiss. "Put the gun away little human or I will burn you where you stand." To illustrate his point Sherlock spread his wings and sent ribbons of fire coiling in John's direction so he was forced to stumble hastily backwards. "You will not get a second warning."
Moriarty grinned. "I would consider doing what he says John Watson because there isn't much point in arguing with a phoenix shape-shifer, especially one who feels he is being threatened." He said, crossing his arms. Reluctantly John clicked the safety back on and let the gun fall with a clatter to the rooftop. Some of the tension left Sherlock but his threatening pose still remained. A flicker of recognition briefly lit up the orange eyes followed by a name, John, before it disappeared again. "See that wasn't so hard was it John?" Moriarty said, a thoughtful expression settling over his face. "Now what are we going to do with you John? I could get Sherlock to kill you but he won't know its you so that takes all the enjoyment out of that idea...or you could simply become another body for overworked Greg Lestrade to deal with or..." A sadistic smile spread over his face. "Or I could take you with us for Sherlock to play with. Hhhm I think that might just work." Behind him Moran let out a dark chuckle.
A cold shiver ran down John's spine and he found himself frozen to the spot. "You can't so this Moriarty. Someone will notice we are missing and come looking for us. You can't just kidnap us." John shouted, angry at himself for not being able to do anything to help Sherlock.
Moriarty shook his head and gestured for Sherlock to stand down and cease his attack. The instant the command had been issued Sherlock tucked his wings back and took a step back. "No, no-one will come looking for you if they think the two of you are deaad." He said, checking his watch. "In fact if everything goes according to plan Mycroft Holmes and Greg Lestrade should be here at any moment. You and I had better make ourselves scare Seb. Good luck Sherlock, don't forget to stick to your script." Moriarty cried, shifting into a magpie and vanishing into the shadows followed by a large tiger, leaving Sherlock and John alone.
John turned to Sherlock, half hoping his friend would reveal that the control Moriarty had over him was fake but he was disappointed when Sherlock reached forward and dragged him across to the edge of the roof. John swallowed nervously as he stared down at the pavement far below. Surely Moriarty hadn't intended for them to jump had he? Because if that was the case there was no way he could possible survive because he, unlike Sherlock, was able to die. At that moment a siren cut through the air, rapidly heading in the direction of the hospital. Mere seconds later a police car with its blue lights flashing tore around the corner and screeched to a halt outside the doors. Lestrade and Mycroft leaped out and ran forward, both of them letting out shocked cries when they spotted Sherlock and John high above them on the very edge of the roof.
Currently rewriting. Sorry it's taking so long but I have univeristy papers to write as well as my fan-fictions.