I KNOW I'M A TERRIBLE PERSON. Please forgive the atrociously late update! Everytime I would get a bit written another college assignment was hurled full-force at my face.

But OH MA GOD 100 REVIEWS. I HAVE 100 REVIEWS. Thank you THANK YOU to each and every single person who reviewed/favourited/followed. It means so much to me you guys, really.

Anways, I hope y'all can understand why this took so long to write and aren't too angry with me! Please enjoy!

P.s There's quite a few film quotes (Well...three..) in here so kudos to whoever spots them ;)

'Audrey, I'm not being seen with you like that in public. I'm sorry, but I'm not.' Sherlock takes one glance at my cat burglar costume, mask and all, and points to the bedroom door. 'Go change.'

'Why are the black leggings -' I run my hands up my thighs '- distracting?' Sherlock gives me a haughty once-over. 'No, I think obscenely revealing is the word you're looking for.'

I jump forward into a lunge position, tilting my head to stare at him. 'Don't hate cos you ain't.'

'What does that even mean?' Sherlock sighs exasperatedly. I pretend to clean my nails. 'Haters gon' hate. Bitches ain't shit but hoes and tri - mrmph!' Sherlock lunges at me, covering my mouth and nose with his hands. 'Audrey, will you please shut up.' Sensing the perfect opportunity, I stick my tongue out until it makes contact with his skin.

'Eughh you just – John she licked me. Audrey just licked me!' He pulls his hands away from my mouth, disgust etched across his face, and wipes them in his coat.

'Dipshit.' I mutter.

'Primate.' He hisses back.

'I know you are but what am I?'

'Alright, alright calm down, ladies.' John jumps in between us, hands raised. 'Don't want to break a nail now, do we?' He looks pointedly at Sherlock.

'Wha –' Sherlock retorts, affronted. 'She started it!'

'Did not -' I begin to say as John cuts across me. 'Both of you started it!' He cries out. 'And I'm going to end it.' Straightening his jacket he reaches for the door handle. 'This case isn't going to solve itself.' He crosses his arms and addresses me. 'Audrey, are you sure you're up for it? You only just got the cast taken off.'

I flex my arms, waving him off. 'I'm fine, John. You know I'm made of tougher stuff.'

He quirks a smile. 'That I do.' He turns to look at a silently fuming Sherlock, and then at me. 'Now shake hands and make up.'

It's my turn to stare sulkily out the window. 'Make me.'

'Audrey.' John warns. Rolling my eyes I trudge over to Sherlock, extending my hand. He looks at me for a bit before taking it and squeezing. Tightly. Okay, very tightly. Jesus Christ OW - I almost cry out before he releases me.

Smirking at my now watering eyes, he saunters past me. 'Friends.'

I take in the tall man as he exits the room.

Well played, Holmes. Well played.

'The missile defence plans haven't left the country, otherwise Mycroft's people would have heard about it. Despite what people think, we do still have a Secret Service.' Sherlock explains to John as we walk down a side street. 'Which means whoever stole the memory stick can't sell it or doesn't know what to do with it. My money's on the latter.' He stops in front of the drive of a maisonette. 'We're here.'

He trots up the steps at the side of the building. As he rummages in his pocket, John whispers to him urgently. 'Sherlock! What if there's someone in?'

'There isn't.' Sherlock replies as the lock opens with a soft click.

'Jesus!' John throws his arms up in disbelief. Just as Sherlock is about to hurry inside, I pull him back. 'Maybe someone should stay here on lookout.'

He rolls his eyes. 'We're not going to get caught.'

I bark out a laugh. 'Maybe I should rephrase that. Someone needs to stay here on lookout.' I stare at Sherlock until he understands my meaning. 'Really?' He eyes me sceptically. 'We get caught?' I nod my head. Stumped for only the tiniest of seconds, he shrugs his shoulders and looks at John. 'John, you're on lookout.'

'Wha – Why do I –' He starts but Sherlock's already halfway up the stairs.

I race up after him, stopping at the top to call down to John. 'If you run into trouble hoot twice like a barn owl, once like a brown owl.'

John stares at me blankly. 'Twice like a barn owl, hoot twice like a brown...hoots like a...like a…' I hear him mumbling behind me.

Once in the house, Sherlock begins pacing the floor. Dropping to his knees, he gets out his magnifier and runs it slowly along the edge of the window sill. 'He stole the memory stick. Killed his prospective brother-in-law.'

I tiptoe over to him and peer around his shoulder at the tiny blood-red spots on the paint. 'Getting warm.' I whisper. He turns to face me, opening his mouth to say something, but is interrupted by the front door banging open. 'Shit.' I mutter and creep over to the peek around the door to see a very distressed and downright frightened Joe Harrison being escorted, (at gunpoint if you don't mind), by one angry John Watson.

'What part of hoot twice like a brown owl, once like a barn owl didn't you understand?' I demand, hands on hips.

'All of it.' John growls as Joe eyes me up. 'Who's this?'

'None of your concern.' John snaps and pushes him forward with the barrel of his gun.

Once Joe is seated, the interrogation begins. I pull John outside the door to discuss tactics. 'We're gonna do good cop, bad cop. Okay? It's the oldest game in the book for a reason - it works. I come strong, then you come in. You got it?'

'Yeah, I – What?' John eyes me warily.

'I come strong, then you come in.' I repeat.

'No yeah, I got that. I just –'

'Good.' I cut across him. 'Just follow my lead.' Rolling up the sleeves of my black V-neck, I storm in.

'Now you listen to me, you piece of shit! It's just you and me, and I'm gonna rip you apart!' Sherlock gapes at me in shock. I bend forward, nose to nose with Joe. 'How did you cover it up? Huh?' I'm practically sitting on the man now. 'Who are you working for?'

'Someone get this maniac off me!' Joe cries frantically, trying to push me away. Sherlock rushes up behind me, hooking his hands underneath my arms and hauling me up.

'Put me down, Sherlock!' I shout, wincing as my shoulder begins to seize up.

'Not unless you promise not to harm Mr Harrison.' He replies sharply.

'No it's my shoulder…You're hurting –' My feet touch the ground instantly. ' – my shoulder.' John hurries to my side and takes my arm in his. 'Let me see.'

'And where the hell were you?' I round on him. John frowns at me. 'You were supposed to be the good cop!'

'Well, after witnessing that performance,' John begins gently squeezing my shoulder. 'I don't think I could do it justice.'

'John.' Sherlock calls from the sitting room. 'Take Audrey outside, I think she needs some fresh air.'

'No I wanna stay!' I whine but am silenced by a glare from Sherlock. John firmly pulls me from the room and deposits me at the foot of the stairs.

'Fine.' I holler up after him. 'Didn't want to discuss the stupid, boring missing missile plans anyway!'

'No, no, no! Of course he's not the boy's father!' I jump violently at Sherlock's sudden bitch fit. 'Look at the turn-ups on his jeans!'

'Oh! The turn-ups!' I smack my hand to my forehead in mock frustration. 'Why didn't I think of that?'

'Knew it was dangerous.' John mutters behind his laptop. Sherlock turns his head but his eyes stay fixed on the television. 'Hmm?'

John smirks. 'Getting you into crap telly.' He checks his watch. 'Have you given Mycroft the memory stick yet?'

'Yep.' Sherlock replies quickly. I give him a sharp look. 'He was over the moon. Threatened me with a knighthood – again.'

While John and Sherlock begin bickering about the solar system, my mind strays to the one person that dominates my every thought. Sure, I had known the confronation at the pool was inevitable, but I had been hoping divine inspiration would strike and present to me some master plan to rid myself of the almightly pile of shit I'm in. Yes, Sherlock knew something was up, but never in his wildest dreams would he have thought it would involve Moriarty.

Well, maybe in his wildest.

Maybe I could win Moriarty over with a nice cup of tea. We are both Irish, after all.

"Tea, Jim?

Ah no, thanks Audrey but I'm okay.

Ah go on. Just a tiny sip?

No I'm grand, really Audrey I –

Just a drop? Sure it's only a little smidge of a cup! Ah go on go on go on go on go..."

No. No I don't think he'll understand the Father Ted references. I'll just have to face the bastard.

John closes the lid of his laptop with a snap and stands up, stretching. 'I won't be in for tea. I'm going to Sarah's. There's still some of that risotto left in the fridge.'

'Mmm!' Sherlock replies, eyes still glued to the telly.

'Thought you broke up with her after she abandoned us at the Chinese performance…thingy?' I twist my neck from where I'm lying on the sofa to frown at him.

'She wants to talk, that's all.' John stops at the door. 'Uh, milk. We need milk.

'I'll get some.' I gape incredulously at Sherlock. 'Sorry, did I just hear that correctly?'

John turns back with a look of disbelief on his face. 'Really?!'

'Really.'

'And some beans, then?' John adds hopefully.

'Mmm.' Sherlock grunts.

John hesitates, still surprised, but then nods and walks away. Sherlock continues to gaze at the TV until he hears the downstairs door open and close, then he pulls out his laptop from where it was tucked underneath his arse.

'Poor John.' I mutter, knowing he'll never make it to Sarah's.

'I'm sure he won't miss the milk and beans too much.' Sherlock sighs, misunderstanding my words, and begins typing.

"Found. The Bruce-Partington plans. Please collect.

The Pool. Midnight."

He jumps from up from his armchair and heads towards the door, pausing to tie his scarf. 'I take it you know what happens next?' He calls behind him.

That I do.

Our footsteps reverberate throughout the eerily quiet room, bouncing off the multi-coloured changing room doors. Sherlock walks cautiously towards the shallow end of the pool, one hand grasping the memory stick, the other wrapped tightly around mine.

'Brought you a little getting-to-know-you present.' He calls out, breaking the silence. 'Oh, that's what it's all been for, hasn't it? All your little puzzles; making me dance – all to distract me from this.' He gestures with the memory stick, then begins to turn in a slow circle as he waits for a response.

A door opens halfway down the room and I cringe, waiting for John to make his appearance. Sherlock looks over his shoulder, still holding the memory stick aloft as John walks through the door and into the pool area, wrapped tightly in a hooded jacket, his hands tucked into the pockets. He turns and looks at Sherlock, who stares back at him in absolute shock.

'Evening.' John begins stiffly. 'This is a turn-up, isn't it, Sherlock?'

'John…' Sherlock says softly, confusion etched across his face. '..What the hell..?

'Bet you never saw this coming.' John keeps his head down but I can hear the tremor in his voice. 'Sherlock it's not -' I try to reassure him but he raises a hand, silencing me.

Sherlock starts to walk slowly towards the man he had believed to be his friend. With a look of despair that matches Sherlock's, John takes his hands from his pockets and pulls open his jacket to reveal a cluster of bombs strapped to his chest. A sniper's laser immediately begins to dance around over the bombs.

'What ... would you like me ... to make him say ... next?' John's voice almost breaks on the last word.

'Stop it.' Sherlock snaps, searching the room for an explanation.

'Nice touch, this: the pool where little Carl died. I stopped him.' John winces before he relays the rest of the message. 'I can stop John Watson too. Stop his heart.'

'Who are you?' Sherlock calls out, turning on spot as he tries to look in all directions. A door opens at the far end of the pool.

'I gave you my number.'

Oh Christ. Here we go. I shut my eyes and shuffle behind Sherlock.

'I thought you might call.' Moriarty's soft voice resounds around us. With one step he moves out of the shadows, hands in his pockets as he casually begins to stroll alongside the deep end of the pool, heading towards Sherlock, John, and I.

Confusion, followed by apprehension dawns on Sherlock's face as he recognises "Jim from I.T".

'Is that British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket ...' Moriarty smirks as Sherlock reaches down to his trouser pocket and pulls out a pistol. '...or are you just pleased to see me?'

Sherlock raises the pistol and aims it towards him. 'Both.'

Moriarty stops and appraises him, unafraid. 'Jim Moriarty. Hi!' He turns to face John just as the sniper's laser flickers over his upper chest. Sherlock briefly turns his head towards him, a questioning look on his face.

Moriarty notices the exchange. 'Oh don't be silly. Someone else is holding the rifle.' He waves a hand lazily and begins pacing. 'I don't like getting my hands dirty.' Once reaching the corner of the pool, he stops. 'I've given you a glimpse, Sherlock, just a teensy glimpse of what I've got going on out there in the big bad world. I'm a specialist, you see.' He grins widely at Sherlock. 'Like you!'

'Consulting criminal.' Sherlock utters softly. 'Brilliant.'

'Isn't it?' Moriarty smiles proudly. 'No-one ever gets to me – and no-one ever will.'

Sherlock cocks the pistol. 'I did.'

Moriarty begins advancing on him. 'You've come the closest. Now you're in my way.'

'Thank you.' Sherlock replies calmly.

'Didn't mean it as a compliment.'

Sherlock narrows his eyes, his raised hand unwavering. 'Yes you did.'

'Yeah, okay, I did.' Moriarty shrugs his shoulders, continuing to stroll closer. 'But the flirting's over, Sherlock ...Daddy's had enough now!'

I wince at the high pitch, heart beating one hundred miles per hour. What's he playing at? Why hasn't he seen me yet?

'People have died.' Sherlock states coldly.

'That's what people DO!' Moriarty screams the last word furiously, and in spite of myself I let out a tiny squeak in terror. Feeling Sherlock stiffen in front of me, I clamp my hands over my mouth.

Moriarty barks out a laugh, clapping his hands together. 'Finally, Audrey darling!' He shouts. 'I was beggining to worry you'd become mute!'

Sherlock and John both snap their heads around to look at me, bewildered. Ignoring Sherlock's protests, I step around him turn to face those deep brown eyes.

Moriarty moves as though to reach out to me, but is blocked by Sherlock. 'Take it.' He snaps, brandishing the memory stick.

'Huh?' Moriarty tears his eyes away from mine. 'Oh! That!' He reaches out for the stick, grinning. 'The missile plans!'

He takes it from Sherlock's fingers and brings it to his mouth, kissing it. Lowering the memory stick, he looks at it fondly before nonchalantly tossing it into the pool. 'Boring!' He sing-songs. 'I could have got those anywhere.'

He spins around, eyes locking on me. 'No, I'm here for something entirely different.' Stopping beside John, he extends one hand. 'Be a dear and reach into your left-hand side pocket, Johnny Boy.' John glances nervously at Sherlock, but complies. His eyes widen in confusion as he slowly pulls a small, rectangular object from his pocket - a book.

Taking the book, Moriarty licks his index finger and begins flicking through the pages, stopping with a loud 'Aha!'

Sherlock looks from my face to Moriarty's, shock slowly replacing his frown. 'Audrey...What..?' I stare at him imploringly, silently begging him to understand.

Moriarty comes to a halt before me, a grin worthy of the Cheshire Cat spreading across his face.

'If you would do the honours, ma chère.'

OOOOHH CLIFF-HANGER OR WHAT.

Hope you liked the chapter, please review if you did! And I apologise if I didn't PM all of the reviewers, I tried to reply to as many as I could!

Thanks a mil to everyone, once again!