Author's notes:

Back for a bit, enjoy!

John hurried back to the flat, as if his quick pace would instill him with some semblance of what to do next. As he approached the door he noted the black Mercedes parked out front.

"Bloody Mycroft." As if this day could get any more complicated, he thought to himself.

He pushed through the door, and just as it clicked closed behind him he was meet with Sherlock practically sweeping down the stairs. Sherlock opened his mouth to speak, pausing briefly and initially struggling to make eye contact before his suave persona kicked back in.

"I have no right to ask you this but-"

"You're right you don't." John stated more angrily then he had intended.

"BUT, I need you to at least trust me now in these next few minutes more than ever. No one is in danger…presently…and I need you to have an open mind."

"You are fu-" John took a deep breath. "What are you talking about?"

"You'll see. But before you do, I need you to give me your gun." Sherlock said with a stern tone to his voice.

"My gun? What makes you think I have my gun on me? Also why in heaven's name would I give it to you?"

Sherlock let out a light, guilty sigh. "I know you, and I know that the unease of our current situation has probably had you falling back to past safety habits. Understandably of course. Under threat of physical harm it's natural to want to stay close to the object of protection you have always been able to rely on. Especially when…when you aren't sure who…has your back…" Sherlock trailed off not wanting to finish that sentence.

"Dammit, I don't need to be psycho-analyzed right now. So what if I have it? I ask again, why would I give it to YOU?"

John wanted to be trusting, he had told himself he would try. But every word came out more bitter than the last.

"John I…You were right."

John's eyebrows raised at that.

"Keeping you in the dark, especially when you're obviously in this dangerous game as much as me, isn't fair or safe for that matter. If I could go back to that lab at Bart's and tell you to piss off instead of inviting you to see a flat with me I would in a second because it would have spared you all of this. This life that I had no right to rope another person into. But I can't and that will haunt me longer than I care to think of. All I can do, and have been trying to do, is make the smartest decisions I can to end and win this death game for good. And in doing so, release you from the shackles of a detrimental life around me."

Sherlock had started calm, carefully choosing his words, but that last sentence came out in a burst of guilt and pain. To John, it felt like a swift kick in the gut. That's not what John wanted at all. This moment cemented that with horrifying clarity.

"Sherlock, I never-" John tried to get out with a slight quiver developing in his voice, which had completely replaced any anger it previously had.

"I also know that despite everything you now believe me to be, for whatever reason, you still believe IN me. I know this because you're standing in front of me right now. I probably won't ever understand the faith you put in me in light of who I am and what I've done, not just speaking of recent events but of everything since you've known me. But right now, I have to selfishly take advantage of that faith in hopes that I can start to make this right. Will you let me try?"

This is who Sherlock was. Insightful to a fault, and not just his own. And it had to be the most painful facet of such a brilliant mind. John wanted…needed to argue with Sherlock's reasoning but it wouldn't be right here right now. Right now, he needed to make a decision to continue to believe in Sherlock. Or to walk away for good. But there was never any choice.

John looked down at the floor taking a deep breath as he un-holstered his gun.

"Why am I doing this anyways?" John lightly queried as he slowly handed the pistol to Sherlock.

"Thank you." The ever so rare phrase left Sherlock's lips with sincerity and the underlying guilt that was there to stay. "Follow me." Sherlock gestured as they ascended the stairs.

As they entered the flat John heard the taping of impatient fingers on his chair side table.

"Don't scratch the wood." John quipped at the figure faced away sitting in his chair, whom he had assumed to be Mycroft.

"Darling I wouldn't dream of it, what kind of barbarian do you think I am?"

John felt his blood run ice cold. That voice. Deep, condescending, with a deranged flair. Before John had another second to process, the man stood.

"Hello John, did you miss me?" said Jim Moriarty with the off putting twinkle of insanity he so loved to play up in his black eyes.

John instinctively jerked for his gun. Dammit Sherlock.

"What? Is it antique?" Jim quipped.

"What!?" John glared at the consulting criminal still in a state of shock. "Sherlock explain to me right now why this mass murdering psychopath is seemingly right at home in our lounge and if I don't like the answer god help me I will tackle that gun away from you and shoot him where he stands" The hairs on the back if John's neck stood straight as he snapped into Captain Watson mode. He wanted answers. He would have answers.

"Just calm down before you do something you'll regret. I promise I'll explain. Maybe you should just sit-"

"I will not fucking sit and you will do more than just explain! Bloody hell Sherlock, after that night you said you would tell me if anything with Moriarty, either of them as it were, went into motion. I would have throttled you right then and there if I knew that meant inviting him to fucking tea!"

"John please, you gave me the gun as a sign of your trust. He can't hurt you or me. Please just hear me out." Sherlock pleaded.

"Uh oh, trouble in paradise?" Jim butt in obviously amused by the situation he was causing.

John and Sherlock shot him the same annoyed look shouting in tandem "Shut up!"

Jim just smiled more.

"Give me my gun." John stared at Sherlock who didn't move a muscle. "Give me my gun Sherlock!"

"I can't do that."

"Why not!" John practically yelled.

"Because he saved your life!" Sherlock practically yelled back.

Silence filled the room. John looked down at the ground, then up to Sherlock, then at Jim, and finally back at Sherlock. A feeling of sickness started to build as he finally began to understand.

John opened his mouth to speak, but what words where there for this.

"Just let me explain." Sherlock quickly continued. "I couldn't find a way- And you were…I needed his help."

John felt his stomach twisting. "So you had him kill that man…"

"No! No one was killed. I…contracted…Jim to set it up to look as though I had fulfilled the order. He knew what his older brother would do to confirm it and had the connections to secure safe, quick, and untraceable relocation for the target and his family. We knew we wouldn't be able to fool him for long, but just long enough."

"Long enough for what?"

"For me to infiltrate my dearest brother's black market lab and steal the antidote." Jim confidently cut in.

John's gaze moved to Jim, who stared back for a moment before continuing. "Easy really, the hard part is what comes next."

John looked back to Sherlock. "If you stole the antidote, why haven't they come after us yet?" I'd be dead if I hadn't gotten it and since obviously I'm not, wouldn't they know? And if they believe you killed that man, they would have just given it to you so why steal it at all?"

"I couldn't trust that they would give it to me when it was all said and done. I couldn't just steal it out right, he would plan for that. However, if it appeared as though I had completed the job, there would be a small window of opportunity. And as soon as he realized the rouse, as he inevitably would, we would have already taken it. Even if I trusted him to deliver what he promised, simply faking the man's death wouldn't have been enough."

"My brother is not as easily tricked as Scotland Yard." Jim sneered with hate and a hint of admiration.

"And you have lots of experience with tricking Scotland Yard don't you." John sneered back. Jim grinned.

"It's hardly that difficult." Sherlock blurted out before receiving the most disapproving of looks from John. "But completely deplorable of course." He quickly added.

"The insanity of this whole scheme aside for a moment, that still doesn't answer one question. Surely by now he knows you defied him and stole the antidote. So why hasn't he sent his people to bust down our door and shoot us in the head?"

Sherlock and Jim briefly shared a glance which made John more uneasy.

"We don't know." Sherlock stated with anticipation in his voice. "I spoke to Mycroft, whose men have been monitoring you, me, the flat, and practically the entirety of London. Jim's resources have been monitoring the criminal elements of the city as well. And so far…nothing. No movement or signs of retaliation."

"What does that mean?"

"I told him what it means, but Sherlock disagrees." Jim pointedly stated towards Sherlock.

"It doesn't make logical sense. Why even involve John and me?"

"You were tools, nothing more. He won this one, he won't win the next."

"Tools? Really? So I suppose he could have chosen any of your rivals. For one of only two men whose intellectual talents rival my own, you are supremely deluded." Sherlock replied in a strong tone.

Jim made a sound that could only be described as giggling. "Deluded? Says the poor fool who allowed himself to be used like a worm on a hook to catch bigger prey. Maybe if you spent less time wasting that "intellectual talent" of yours on becoming domesticated you would have seen it sooner." Jim quipped back.

"For god sake's, will you two stop flirting and explain what the bloody hell you are talking about!" John cut in before Sherlock could reply again.

Sherlock's face grimaced at John's choice of words. "Jim believes it was all just a test. Directed at him, to test him loyalties."

"My dearest brother has grown bold and bored. A deadly combination I assure you. He has his hands in every despicable pot you can think of, but he's decided it's not enough. So he came to me. You understand of course, that compared to my network, he deals in small grade crime. Guns, drugs, human trafficking, etcetera-"

"Small grade? Seriously?" John burst in, fighting the urge to vomit with disgust in his current circumstance.

"Honey, I have hands in jars of spiders that would make your moral sensibilities jump off a cliff." Jim replied with a cold pride.

"You are REALLY not making me NOT want to kill you." John said staring blankly into Jim's abyssal stare.

Jim smiled, and continued. "Needless to say I refused him."

"Why?" Sherlock finally chimed in again.

"Why? Come on, surely I needn't explain it to you."

Sherlock remained silent, awaiting his answer. He knew. But he wanted to hear it from Jim's mouth.

Jim's eyes narrowed. "Because I'm not about to stoop to his-"

"No." Sherlock cut in.

Jim's eyes widened as he sighed. "I put a lot of effort into what I've created and-"

"No." Sherlock cut in again.

"BECAUSE IT'S MINE!" Jim shouted with an unhinged flair. "It's mine, and I don't want to share."

Sherlock let out a victorious huff. "Now we're getting somewhere. You want this to be about you, so you won't see it any other way."

Jim stared back in silence into Sherlock's confident eyes, with a calm concession. He walked casually to stand in front of Sherlock, inches away from his face.

John tensed. Sherlock remained perfectly still.

Jim looked up into Sherlock's eyes with a smile. "Quite so, my dear."

Sherlock's demeanor changed to the same calm concession. Touché.

John really didn't like this closeness. "What is the point of this." He spat out breaking the tension and silence.

Jim took a step back, but kept his eyes fixed in the same gaze. "The fact remains that we have a common problem that needs solving."

"You see, I really don't think we need help catching a psychopath from that psychopath's psychopathic brother who, arguably, I'd rank higher on the "needs beat and throw and forgotten in the bottom of a dark whole" list." John replied fiercely.

"My, my. I love this fire I spark in you, Doctor Watson. Or should I call you Captain? Killing me, beating me? Not so much the moral man you claim to be after all." Jim said not moving his locked gaze from Sherlock's eyes, smiling even wider.

John grimaced, preparing a response, but faltering. "Are we done?"

"For now. It's obvious you'll need some time to come to terms with this new arrangement." Jim broke his gaze finally, and strolled over to the stairs. Sherlock remained still.

"Not gonna hap-" John started.

"I'll contact you when I'm ready." Sherlock cut John off.

John stared at Sherlock with an intense confused, shocked, and angry look.

"Don't wait too long, I might find someone prettier." Jim quipped back as he descended the stairs and exited the flat with a bounce in his step.

To be continued.

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