And an epilogue for good measure!

Chapter 3

"What am I supposed to do with this?" Sherlock asked incredulously as he looked at the polystyrene tub's contents.

"Eat it" John said as he stood calmly in the taxi queue.

Sherlock let a strangled 'humph' escape his throat as he lifted a bit of kebab meat with a plastic fork dubiously.

"Can I have a bit?" John asked as he pulled his own shirt collar up to shield him from the cold, matching the taller man.

Just as Sherlock was holding the fork out to John, a gun shot cracked through the air.

The two men stared at each other, john's mouth hanging open as he waited to receive the foul meat.

Without a further word between them Sherlock had thrown the entire meal into the bin beside them and they took to their heels; John following Sherlock as they chased through the back streets.

Being the first on the crime scene; Sherlock saw everything he needed to know within a minute.

"It's the gang" he murmured as he looked down at the two bodies. "They were a couple" he said darkly and John noticed the sudden anger Sherlock had given away in his words.

The doctor knelt down between the two men, being careful not to trod on their conjoined hands. It was two late, they were both dead, their eyes open and staring at one another. John swallowed painfully.

"Well, well, well, what have we got here then? Another two fags?" A taunting male voice shouted from the adjacent alleyway.

Sherlock lunged forward and grabbed John's shirt, throwing the shorter man behind him protectively.

There was the sound of tinny music as the gang came into full view; one of them had an ipod on speakers, the others held weaponry. The hub of the group – the one that had taunted them held the gun.

The dozen or so teenagers spread out in a semi-circle around the Consulting Detective and Doctor; John peeked over Sherlock's shoulder timidly, feeling for his own gun that he had forgotten, until now, that he had brought out that night.

"It is boys, look, they're holding hands" The rotten boy called out teasingly.

Sherlock looked down to see that he did in fact have a hold of the Doctor's hand, but he did not let it go.

The music finished echoing around the small alley as the tune changed on the smallest lad's ipod. John recognised the tune as one of those they had danced to that very night and let go of his gun; leaving it seated in his trouser waistband.

'You know I'm not one to break promises
I don't want to hurt you but I need to breathe'

He squeezed Sherlock's hand and spotted the tiny curt nod the Detective responded with.

Without further communication the two men separated; John to the right and Sherlock to the left. Using the music to their advantage; they simultaneously fought against the gang.

John switched into soldier mode as he gripped the wooden poll that the first 19 year old brandished in an inexperienced manner, stealing it from his grip he used the weapon to defend; right, left and centre as he ripped through five of the boys before taking breath.

Upon looking up, John saw Sherlock had done the same with the other six and he currently had his hand grasped firmly around the gang-leaders throat.

At that very moment, police cars screeched to a halt either side of the short alleyway. Lestrade ran down the alley and stopped short at the sight of the thirteen unmoving bodies lining the cobbles. John dropped the wooden poll and walked carefully towards Sherlock. He could tell that Sherlock was 'worked up', or perhaps 'seething with anger' was a better phrase. The Doctor gently put a hand on Sherlock's hip. The taller man allowed a glance down at John but only squeezed his hold on the boy.

"Sherlock, its ok, Lestrade is here now, he'll take over" John said gently, allowing his hand to squeeze Sherlock's side.

Sherlock loosened his hand slightly at John's voice but didn't let go.

"Shh, it's ok, he can't do any more harm" John coaxed.

"He killed them. He killed them, John, because they were 'unnatural'" Sherlock spat, his whole body trembling with murderous anger.

John allowed a glance to the white washed child at Sherlock's mercy.

"And now you are killing him, Sherlock" John said gently.

At John's words, Sherlock instantly let go, the boy crumpled to the ground and John removed the gun from his grip.

Lestrade and the following officers walked forward slowly. Sherlock turned to John and the shorter man gasped at the sight of water escaping the cold Detective's eyes.

"Oh, Sherlock" John said protectively, he pulled the taller man towards him and hugged him tightly. "It's ok, it's just the alcohol, you'll be ok in the morning" John whispered into Sherlock's ear.

Greg moved into John's line of vision, a look of utmost concern on his face.

"John, get to the patrol car up there, Richards, take them back to Baker Street. We'll call you both in, in the morning" Lestrade said quietly.

John nodded his thanks over Sherlock's shivering shoulder before the two men made their way towards the flashing vehicle, behind them the ipod's song came to an end as Greg shouted out to "Clear up this mess".

0-0

Sherlock was still leaking tears as the car pulled up outside their home. The sun was beginning to rise as John thanked the policeman before fetching his house keys from his pocket. Sherlock stood a little way behind John as he wrapped his arms around himself – he looked vulnerable and John hated the thought of it.

"Come on" John said gently as he held out his hand for the Detective. There was a flash of fear in Sherlock's face as he took the offered hand for the millionth time that night.

Upon reaching the landing, John steered them into Sherlock's room, sitting the man down on the bed; John stripped the taller man of his clothes. Silently, John then undressed himself and pulled Sherlock to his feet.

They entered the hot shower together, John immediately taking care to wash Sherlock's hair and face.

All the while, Sherlock stood stock still under the fall of water. His face now looked a deathly pale as the previously applied fake tan washed itself away and John felt his heart pang painfully.

"Sherlock, it's ok, it's just us, remember? You and me" John said softly, pressing his lips to the taller man's jaw.

"John" Sherlock whispered. "What have I done?" he said loosely.

John moved back slightly, looking up at the wet detective.

"Nothing, Sherlock, everything is ok" John said with an encouraging smile.

"No, it's not. I've made us a target. We should never have started what we started last night – I've put your life in danger" the Consulting Detective explained tonelessly.

John's eyes filled with panic.

"No, Sherlock, don't think like that. We cannot undo what we've learned, I love you and you love me, we will protect each other, we have always done it up until now" John said, his eyes widening with every second word.

Sherlock looked down at John now. "I can't always be there to protect you" he said gently.

"I'm a soldier, Sherlock; I can look after myself and you. But that's how we work, we save each other, regardless of what we are relationship wise. Now stop thinking like that and wash my hair, its sweaty" John finished with a determined smile, handing the soap to the taller man.

Sherlock allowed a weak smile to cross his face as he turned them, putting John under the shower's stream.

"I'm sorry for, the emotion, my body betraying me" Sherlock explained as he gently massaged the soap into John's blonde hair.

"Its not surprising really, is it, Sherlock? I mean, you've never had that much alcohol, have you? Probably not danced that much before? And definitely never had a physical release before? It's ok to be Human, it's not an advantage but it's definitely ok" John said quietly as he turned around to face Sherlock.

The Consulting Detective smiled. "Why does club music have such an effect?" Sherlock mused, now washing John's face gently.

"Night clubbers' syndrome" John mused with a smile. "One of the Worlds' many mysteries, Sherlock"

The taller man smiled cheekily.

"Bed?" he asked.

"Hmm" John replied in agreement turning off the shower with a flick of the dial.

.The End.