Clawing my way back to consciousness is a slow and painful process for my entire body is stiff like I have been lying in one position for much too long. I shift a little and wince when a stab of intense pain shoots through my head. For a moment I struggle to remember what actuallly happened; I can recall a confusion of dust but apart from that my memory is mostly blank, before managing to bring to mind the black scales I had briefly glimpsed. It didn't take someone of Sherlock's skill to work out that they belonged to Moriarty. Hesistantly, wary of the previous pain I'd experienced I open my eyes, biting back a groan when bright light sears into them. I close them again. Okay, so I won't be doing that again for a while. Frustrated at my new predicament I swear under my breath.

At the sound of my voice someone beside me stirs and I hear a rustle of feathers followed by a familiar voice. With a sigh (because of course Moriarty couldn't just have gotten me) I hear an all too familiar voice, "John, thank goodness you're awake! I was beginning to worry about you."

With some difficulty I turn my head from side to side, searching for Sherlock, but am unable to find him. "Sherlock, where are you?" I ask to try and quell the panic I feel when I try to raise myself to a sitting position but find myself unable to move. Apparently heavy chains or something of the like have been secured around me, pinning my wings against my back and basically rendering me helpless. Well, of course a dragon shape-shifter can never be completly at someones mercy. Taking a deep breath I exhale a stream of fire that scorches the carpet in front of my nose...wait, what? The last thing I remember is a small concrete room so how am I suddenly in a different place? Hastily, because I don't really want to burn the room down around me I cut off my fire.

Then from off to one side, further than I am able to see, I hear a unpleasant hissing laugh which makes the scales on my back stand on end. "Patience John Watson, everything will be clear to you soon." gloats the unmistakable voice of Moriarty. I strain my neck, trying to spot him and maybe even burn him but I am unable to move my head more than a few centimetres. I snarl to show my displeasure and I am surprised when Moriarty doesn't make a comment. Evidently he has grown bored with me already. "Now Sherlock, what on earth happened on the roof of the hospital? I mean sure my doppelganger was very convincing and had John as a hostage but surely you with your awesome powers of deduction should have been able to work out he was an imposter. I couldn't believe it when you went along with his little performance and actually allowed yourself to be injected with that ridiculous mind control drug. Why his entire plan was flawed from the start but your judgement was clouded by the danger dear John was in...I have to admit that it did turn out to be an interesting experiment." Moriarty sighs. "You have disappointed me Sherlock, though I am prepared to offer you a second chance if you choose to accept it."

I hear Sherlock make a quiet noise of disbelief. "Really Moriarty, a second chance?" I'm assuming it very likely has something to do with killing me." He says, a mocking tone in his voice. My attention at that moment however is taken away from the conversation between detective and criminal, as I finally realise why I am unable to stand. Holding me to the ground are a number of heavy chains draped across my body. I let out a quiet huff before a grin spreads across my face. Oh, and Moriarty thinks that he is so clever. Why the idiot should know fire and metal are the best of combinations for the hottest of flames are cabable of melting the majority of materials. Following this train of thought breaking the chains should, of course, be easy for a dragon.

Moriarty tuts loudly. "Dear me Sherlock, do you really think that I am so predictable? Who says I intend to kill you when John Watson is right here." He taunts, a faint hiss in his voice. Sherlock lets out a shriek of anger followed by the roar of a burning fire but I am unable to turn my head to see what is happening. I clench my fists and curse Moriarty. Damn him for making him helpless to do anything to help Sherlock. Well, technically I am not completly helpless. Closing my eyes I concentrate on pooling my internal fires (all dragons have them don't you know) to where the chains are resting against my scales, causing them to slowly heat up. In the last few minutes the chains have began to give a little, leaving me able to raise my head a little so I can at least start to make sense of our surroundings. I inhale sharply when I see where Moriarty has brought us. Nice to know that he has a sense of humour, even if it is rather twisted.

Moriarty has brought Sherlock and I back to 221B which is now in perfect condition after us having been away so long (probably Mycroft trying to be a good brother). I quickly however push that thought aside for a moment and look around for Sherlock, anxious to find out what might have happened to him. A gasp escapes me when my gaze finally falls on him. He is trapped beneath the clawed foot of an enormous black dragon who grins back at me; its yellow eyes alight with cruelty. As I continue to watch Moriarty's, I am assuming the dragon is him, head snakes down and he sinks his teeth into one of Sherlock's golden wings, biting down until there is a nasty sounding crunch. I wince at Sherlock's cry of pain and curse loudly. Shit, why did the real Moriarty have to be a mythical shape-shifter too? Why did things just keep getting more and more complicated?

Moriarty rears back, scarlet blood dripping from his teeth, and stares down at Sherlock. "Well, attacking me wasn't your greatest idea was it Sherlock? Sure you may be a Phoenix but that doesn't stop you feeling pain, it just means that you can't die. Which actually is going to make hurting you rather enjoyable." He laughs, his voice little more than a growl.

A shudder runs down my spine because Moriarty in his shape-shifter form is a creature from nightmare with his black, gleaming scales and his glowing green eyes. He easily towers above me because of how, just like a human, he stands on his hind legs and has tiny arms tipped with lethal looking claws. I have the feeling he will prove to be a formidable opponent. I test the chains again. This time they shift with a loud clank which makes me freeze. Surely Moriarty had to have heard that. After a few moments of nothing happening I raise my head to see that Moriarty is too busy torturing Sherlock to pay any attention to me. A grim smile spreads across my face as I slowly, my head still feels sore from being hit by a chunk of rubble, climb to my feet and turn to face the large, black dragon in front of me. As I straighten up my tail sweeps everything on the table onto the floor with a clatter. Moriarty still doesn't react. Clenching my clawed hands I prepare myself to attack.

With an ear-splitting roar I charge towards Moriarty spitting fire and flame. I feel a brief moment of regret at destroying the pristine flat, especially since Mycroft had probably gone to a lot of expense in order to get it back exactly how it was before, but then my gaze falls on Sherlock. Snarling loudly I jump up and sink my teeth into Moriarty's neck, cracking several of his scales. Moriarty screeches in pain and rears back, trying to shake me off but I hang on for dear life, digging my teeth in even deeper. What Moriarty does next takes me by surprise. Releasing Sherlock the consulting criminal throws himself backward and crushes me against the wall. He growls when I let go before raking his claws across the soft skin of my unprotected underbelly, the only part of a dragon not to have scales. Wrongfooted by how fast he was able to move despite his size I break away from Moriarty, moving across the room away from him, and eye him warily. Behind me Sherlock tries to rise to his feet but fails and collapses down to the floor as his wounds continue to heal.

Moriarty bares his blood stained fangs at me, snarls prompting small dribbles of green flame trickling from the corner of his jaws and half unfurls his wings so his vast bulk completly blocks my way to the door. "I am going to enjoy killing you John Watson." He hisses, a dark glint present in his yellow eyes. Without warning he lunges forward and rams into me, knocking the breath from my body and propelling me across the room. I smash into the wall, sending chips of plaster and glass from the picture frames hanging there flying. A nasty smirk lights up Moriarty's face briefly before he bites down into my neck. Pain crashes through me and an involuntary whimper escapes me when Moriarty sinks his teeth in deeper.

I reaalise then Moriarty is twice my strength and more powerful than I can ever hope to be. I won't be able to win this fight. A wave of sadness washes through me at the thought but I hastily push it aside. No, I will not just give up; I will continue to fight until all the breath is gone from my body.

Gritting my teeth I roar in pain and lash out with my claws, tearing into the thick armour plating protecting Moriarty's chest. Somehow, most likely through sheer desperation, I suceed in tearing a sizable hole in his black scales before he retaliates by releasing his grip on my neck and breathing a torrent of green fire into the wound. The pain is unlike anything I have ever felt before, flowing through me in a white hot wave which consumes everything in its path. I hear a terrible scream aand it takes several moments before I realise it's me. My vision blurs and I shift back into human form, curling up into a ball and trying to ignore the blood rapidly pooling around me. Violent shudders run through me body. Above me Moriarty smirks and takes a deep breath, preparing to incinerate me. Grimacing I close my eyes and prepare myself for what I am sure is the end.

A piercing shriek echoes through the room. Weakly I turn my head in time to see a blur of golden red appearing from nowhere and latching onto Moriarty, tearing into him with beak and talon. Moriarty staggers back against the onslaught, his tail whipping from side and side and sending a small table smashing into the opposite wall. While Moriarty is busy trying to stop Sherlock from pecking his eyes out I slowly crawl away from them into a corner, blood pouring from my wounds. I groan, gritting my teeth against the pain. Though mythical shape-shifters were able to heal quicker than normal shifters the amount of blood I was loosing could potentially be deadly. My strength fails me and I collapse, unable to move and helpless to do anything but watch as Moriarty swipes at Sherlock, sending him flying backwards into the wall before he turns his attention back to me. A nasty smirk spreads across his face and his green eyes gleam with hatred as he stares down at me. There is no point in pleading for my life, Moriarty is going to kill me no matter what I say. Before he can strike there is a gravelly, deep roar and the room goes dark as a massive creature blocks off the light.

Moriarty's reptilian features distort in a snarl. "Oh look Sherlock, here comes your older brother to save the day." He sneers, his head snaking round to stare distainfully at the large gargoyle hovering outside.

Intense pain shoots through my side and I cry out. Black spots dance at the edges off my vision and panic flows through me. "Sherlock.." I croak but that is all I manage to force out between gritted teeth before everything goes black and I know no more.

When I open my eyes again some time later the room is empty of Moriarty and yet another of the flat's windows are smashed. I close my eyes with a small wince. Mrs Hudson is not going to be pleased when she sees the lastest mess we have been partly responsible for creating. My train of thought is prevented from going any further when I become aware of someone gently stroking my hair. I open my eyes, curious to see what is going on. Hmm, if I am not mistaken I appear to be lying with my head on someone's lap. Slowly, acutely aware of the pain coursing through every nerve fibre, I move so I am able to see who is looking after me. My eyes meet Sherlock's ocean blue ones which are full of anxiety as he watches me intently. He smiles in relief when he sees I am awake. I attempt to raise myself slightly but the pain is too much; biting my lip I lower myself back down. Despite how much pain I am currently in it isn't actually as bad as what I was expecting. Carefully I probe the various places where Moriarty had left a mark. To my surprise many of them are partially healed, though from what I see of my shoulder wound when I turn my head to inspect it I am going to need to go to a hospital pretty soon. "Sherlock." I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry." Ignoring the pain I reach up and lightly stroke my hand across his cheek.

Sherlock frowns at me, a startled expression in his orange eyes. "There is no need for you to be sorry John. You were trying to stop Moriarty from hurting me." He says softly. The hand stroking my hair moves down to gently touch my wounded shoulder. I bite my lip, having to stop myself from cryifng out in pain. Sherlock hesistates, his blue eyes filling with sadness, before intertwining his hand in mine. "This might hurt a little John. Moriarty inflicted so much damage on you John." He says, closing his eyes and furrowing his brow in concentration.

It takes me a moment to realise what Sherlock is doing. Finally however it dawns on me when I feel damaged skin and muscle knitting back together, a sensation that at first was merely unplesant but it quickly escalated into white hot needles of pain that took my breath away. Gritting my teeth I tighten my hand around Sherlock's, which to my alarm goes slack as though he is struggling to remain upright. I hear Mycroft let out a huff of alarm followed by a shout, "Stop Sherlock! You're going to kill yourself!"

Sherlock gives his head a violent shake. "I need to stop John's internal bleeding first." He manages to gasp out. Alarm floods through me when I see how pale he is becoming and the warm glow usually shining from his skin has faded almost to nothing. Horror settles over me; oh god, he is using his life force to heal me.

"Please Sherlock, stop!" I plead. I try to tear myself away but he tightens his grip and holds me closer to him. "What will you achieve if you kill yourself healing me?" Sherlock ignores me completly and stares off into the distance. "For gods sake Sherlock, do you think I could live a happy life knowing what you sacrificed for me!? I love you Sherlock...I couldn't live without you." I cry, my voice breaking as I bury my head in my hands. My last exclamation manages to get through to Sherlock and he lowers his hand slowly from my shoulder, swaying like he is on the brink of collapse. Not caring that I am not fully healed I ease myself up and turn to face him. His face is white as a sheet with a sickly green tinge. My heart swells with affection and I lean forward to press my lips tenderly against his, not caring when Mycroft coughed and politely turned away. Sherlock's lips are soft and warm on mine but the kiss doesn't last for long because Sherlock draws back with a gasp and a moan of pain. I wrap my arms around him, comforting him. "Sssh it's okay. It's all over now, Moriarty's gone." I murmur in his ear. A sudden thought strikes me and I glance over at Mycroft who is looking faintly embaressed. "What happened to Moriarty anyway?"

Mycroft shrugs and I wince when his stone limbs grate together with a screech. "He bolted as soon as he lay eyes on me." He says, pointing towards the smashed window and heaving himself to his feet. "Anyway Lestrade should be here soon to make sure he doesn't come back, I need to get both of you to a hospital."

The news that Lestrade is coming sends Sherlock into a panic. "No Lestrade can't come here." He shouts, apparently horrified Mycroft could even have made such a suggestion. "That's what Moriarty wants, he is the last peice in Moriarty's puzzle." He rolls his eyes when I stare at him confused as to what he means. "I just worked it all out! This whole time Moriarty has been working on an elaborate plan from the moment he kidnapped John and now he is close to being it to fruitation!" He crys, his eyes wide and frantic. I stroke a curl of black hair away from his eyes and rest my forehead on his. After everything we have been through at Moriarty's hands it doesn't take much to persuade me he is telling the truth-though I have the feeling Mycroft will need something more before he is able to believe his brother. It doesn't come as a shock then when Mycroft shakes his head looking skeptical.

"What exactly is Moriarty's plan little Brother?" He asks, his tone unbelieving. Mycroft shakes his head and stares at Sherlock with his unsettling blank grey eyes. Sherlock goes to reply but instead lets out a long breath and collapses back against me. I am startled by how cold his skin feels, almost like ice. Mycroft frowns and quickly pads towards us, his expression concerned. "Moriarty is no longer here Sherlock and even if he was I wouldn't let him hurt you." He explains in a slow voice as though speaking to a child. "I need to get you to a hospital Sherlock; somewhere you can rest and heal undisturbed."

Sherlock sighs and closes his eyes. "Do what you will Mycroft." He says, going limp as he surrenders himself to the bliss of unconsciousness. I smile at the serene expression on his face and plant a gentle kiss on his forehead before looking up at Mycroft. He is now looming over the two of us and actually, though I would never admit it to him, is rather forboding when you see him up close. With a huge stone paw he indicates I should climp up onto his back. I obey, reluctantly leaving Sherlock, and pull myself up using cracks in his stone skin. He waits for me to settle into the hollow at the base of his neck then carefully, tenderly picks up Sherlock and cradles him to his chest. Then with heavy footsteps which shake the flat Mycroft thumps over to the window and hauls himself out, clumsily opening his wings and flapping them to get airborne.

Before he rises above the rooftops of London I glance down at the street and notice two figures lurking in the shadows beneath a streetlight. One of them is Moriarty, his black scales gleaming like sunlight on a oil spill, and the other is a tall man wearing a well tailored suit and a top hat which obscures his face. As the man turns his head I swear I see a flash which reminds me of light reflecting off a pair of glasses. I spot something else then which sends a trickle of cold dread down the back of my neck. Why is Moriarty wearing a collar? The sight is so disturbing that I grip the spike in front of my tightly and lean forward to yell in Mycroft's ear. "Mycroft, do you know who that guy down there is?"

Mycroft pauses, hovering in place as he squints down towards where I am pointing. When he next speaks he sounds confused. "There's no one there John. Are you sure you saw something?" He asks, obviously assuming I am hallucinating. Shaking his stone head he soars up into the sky until the rooftops below us are tiny dark blobs. "Hang on." He says, banking left in the direction of the nearest hospital to Baker Street.

Without warning pain shoots through my shoulder followed by a warm trickle of what I assume to be blood. I swear under my breath. Damn, though Sherlock partially healed my shoulder it is evidently very far from okay. I hug my arm to chest, leaving me with only one in order to hang on. After a few moments of struggling to stay upright I feel myself slip sideways and let out a yell of fright when I find myself staring straight down at the ground far below and the dim shape following us. In my panic I dismiss it-because after all who possibly could control the world's only consulting criminal and the one person who almost beat Sherlock. It takes an immense effort to haul myself upright and when I am finally seated again I rest my head against the cold stone of Mycroft's neck and gasp for breath. The blood pumping from my shoulder is soaking into my already stained shirt and pinpricks of darkness dance at the edges of my vision. I groan loudly.

Mycroft glances back at me, his eyes widening when he sees the condition I am in. "John, are you alright? John?" His voice rises when I don't reply. "John! Oh god, hang on...we're almost there." He cries, tucking his wings back and diving down.

I am barely aware of the cold wind howling past or the ground rushing up to meet us as Mycroft prepares to land. Instead the world around me is dissolving; melting away into a thick, heavy blackness into which I am grateful to surrender myself. After that there is nothing but emptyness.