I'm back from the dead and this time I come with my first Sherlock story!

Plot bunnies have been attacking me about Sherlock and John during the pool scene in The Great Game and A Scandal in Belgravia. I thought that that was a brilliant scene and sometimes I just wish that more characters could have witnessed it. This was my solution. Hope you enjoy it. No intended slash. One-shot.

Warnings: Only a couple of extremely minor swear words that have been used in the show already.

Disclaimer: I literally own nothing. I don't own Sherlock Holmes, I don't own the BBC TV show, I don't own the plot or actors. Heck, I don't even own my computer as it's my dad's!

P.S. To the fans of my Merlin stories, I haven't given up on them I swear! It's just that a part of my brain labeled: Merlin Ideas, has abandoned me and gone to rot in a corner. At this point in time, I'm trying to coax it back out and nurse it back to health. It might take awhile. Sorry once again and I WILL try to finish them. I will NOT start a new Merlin story until after I finish the rest.

Normal Text: In the Police station

Bold Text: In the pool

Update 6/11/12

Just fixed a couple of grammatical errors that were absolutely appalling! Thanks to those that reviewed and told me about them!

No matter what Sherlock said and how often he said it, Detective Inspector Lestrade was not an idiot. Maybe he couldn't deduce every little detail of a murder victim's life but he could do his job and he could do it well. Lestrade was more observant then most of the police force and after spending a good five years with Sherlock Holmes popping in and out of crime scenes that he was working on, he had picked up on some tricks and was now using them himself. He could also understand Sherlock's eccentric ways more then anyone else in Scotland Yard and was able to not punch him in the face every time he did or said something stupid. But on this most recent case, Lestrade couldn't make heads or tails of it and didn't think that that even Sherlock fully understood what was going on.

People getting kidnapped and having bombs to their chests while they waited for Sherlock to solve a puzzle that was so obscure at times that Lestrade got headaches just trying to understand how Sherlock solved them with relative ease. But he had noticed that Sherlock was putting up the solutions to the cases on his website. Lestrade suspected that this was how he communicated with their mystery bomber that was apparently named Moriarty and received their next hint.

That was the reason as to why Lestrade was sitting in his office well after his shift had ended waiting for either a call or text from Sherlock or a new post on his website. His efforts didn't go unrewarded. At around ten to ten that night a short post popped up at the top of the list. It read:

Found. The Bruce-Partington plans. Please collect. The pool. Midnight.

Lestrade had of course been informed of the missing missile defence plans but as he was busy with the bomber, Detective Inspector Dimmock had been assigned to the case. Now it seemed the Sherlock had discovered the memory stick on his own and was using it as bait to try and track down the man who had been troubling them with his puzzles.

The Detective Inspector ground his teeth slightly at the lack of care taken with top secret plans. Sherlock wouldn't give the memory plans away, not with his brother being who he was. He should probably go and find Sherlock to make sure that he didn't do something stupid. That was where the problem started. When Sherlock didn't want to be found or followed, it was near to impossible to do so. The only reliable scrap of information that the Detective Inspector had was the time. There were probably close to a hundred public pools in the city, not to mention the private ones. He couldn't assign a police officer to each pool at midnight at such short notice.

Lestrade checked the post again, trying to find the clue, the hidden message that the bomber would find and be able to go to the right place. He tried to stay focused on the problem at hand but his mind kept wandering and he wasn't concentrating. Checking his watch and noting the time, Lestrade stood up and stretched. Grabbing his mug from the corner of his desk, he walked down the hall towards the coffee machine. Instead of choosing his normal decaf coffee, Lestrade hit the normal kind, needing the caffeine to keep him awake.

His eyes began to rove along the walls where newspaper clippings were hanging, memories of previous cases. One of them jumped out at Lestrade immediately. A photo of a boy, about 13 years of age lying on the floor of what looked like a pool. Lestrade read the headline.

TRAGIC DEATH OF CARL POWERS.

Suddenly it all clicked. Forgetting about his coffee that was now flowing over the edges of the mug, Lestrade grabbed the clipping and began to scan the text, looking for a place name. Halfway through the first paragraph was his answer. Apparently the boy had drowned at a place in the centre of London during a swimming competition. It wasn't that far away, maybe a ten minute cab drive and Lestrade immediately grabbed his coat and phone before heading out the door.

It was only after he had already gotten out of the elevator eleven stories down that he realized that maybe it wasn't such a good idea to go there personally. This was a man that obviously didn't care about human life and wouldn't hesitate to kill him if he was discovered.

Lestrade immediately did a U-turn back into the elevator and made his way back up to his office. After rummaging around in a couple of drawers, Lestrade found what he was looking for. Four cameras that could be connected to one computer and watched all at the same time. He stuffed them in his pocket before picking out his phone and calling Sally.

"Sally, listen, I can't talk a lot right now but I need you to set up a computer and hook it up to cameras 237, 98, 175 and 64. I tell you more later. Don't look at the footage until I get back." He gave Sally no room for argument and hung up. Lestrade flagged down a cab and gave the driver directions to a spot a couple of blocks away. It didn't hurt to be careful around a maniacal bomber.

Lestrade walked the distance with his head down and his hat tugged a little lower then necessary to hide his face. He checked his watch again. Twenty past eleven. He would have to hurry.

The door was locked but Lestrade had come prepared with the keys. Slotting the key in to the handle he turned it and could hear the bolt retract into the door frame. The Detective Inspector pushed lightly against the door and winced when it let out a long, low groan. He froze, waiting to see if anything would happen. Silence. So far so good. He slipped through the opening and padded along the corridors and through the mens changing rooms. The pool was completely deserted, only the gentle lapping of the water against the sides of the pool making any noise. Lestrade immediately began setting up the four cameras on either side of the building, taking care to make sure that there were hidden but not blocking the view of the pool.

It wasn't long before they were all set up and Lestrade turned them on one at a time. A little red light flashed a couple of times to signal that it was ready before turning off. The Inspector smiled to himself before leaving the way he'd come. He had maybe fifteen minutes to get back to the office before Sherlock and Moriarty would turn up. If they turned up at all.

Lestrade caught a cab that was just turning the corner and after showing his police badge, the taxi was streaking through the streets, narrowly missing pedestrians and cars alike. He got to Scotland Yard in record time and took the stairs three at a time. Lestrade punched in the floor number and the doors of the elevator closed in front of him. They reopened at Sally's department and the Detective Inspector dashed out and burst into her office without knocking. The Sergeant looked up from the laptop that she was working at and waved him over.

"What the hell is going on?" She asked, obviously confused as to why she was helping set up cameras for something she didn't even know about. "And why are you still at work? Your shift finished nearly three hours ago!"

I've been waiting for something from Sherlock to turn up that's why I haven't left." Sally rolled her eyes and began to mutter under her breath.

"What was that Sergeant Donovan?"

"Nothing."

"Good. Let's keep it that way." Lestrade took over the computer and turned on the cameras so that four different images turned up. So far, there was no one in the building. The Detective Inspector turned the sound up in time to hear a door slamming. A couple of people that were still at work jumped and turned to face him in confusion before turning back to their work. Sherlock strode into view and Lestrade felt her stiffen. A couple police officers were now looking over their shoulders in interest.

"Brought you a little, getting-to-know-you-present." Sherlock flourished what could have been the memory stick and began to check his surroundings while continuing. "Oh that's what it's all been for isn't it. All your little puzzles, making me dance, all to distract me from this." He was now facing the way he'd come. Another door opening signaled that someone else was in the building and about to make an appearance.

Lestrade immediately grabbed a pen and a couple sheets of paper to take down notes about this Moriarty fellow. That was when John walked in wearing a heavy down parka. The entire police office went deadly quiet, everyone holding their breath at this new revelation.

John was generally well-liked among the officers and staff, much more then his flatmate. He had a calm, quiet energy that surrounded him and rarely did he lose his temper. There was just something completely wrong about this turn of events.

"God! All this time it was John!" Sally finally broke the silence that had seemed to go on forever. Lestrade merely nodded before turning back to the events that were playing out on the screen.

"Evening."

Lestrade watched Sherlock's face fall and his eyes widen in disbelief. John had apparently fooled the great Sherlock Holmes.

"This is a turn up, isn't it Sherlock." John continued.

"John… What the hell…"

Sherlock's voice was soft, barely audible and yet Lestrade cringed at his words.

"Bet you never saw this coming." Sherlock was now moving closer to John, his brow creased, obviously trying to figure things out.

Lestrade winced at Sherlock's predicament. His only friend, a traitor. That must have feel horrible.

That was when the game changed once again.

John took his hands out of his pockets and opened the jacket to reveal the last thing anyone wanted to see. A bomb. And a laser on John's chest.

Now everything was beginning to fall into place for Lestrade. Sherlock was helpless against this bomber if he truly valued John Watson's life. He could do nothing.

"What would you like me to make him say next. Gottle o' geer, gottle o' geer, gottle o' geer…"

"Stop it." Sherlock was straight and to the point. As usual. John just kept going, rattling off on a script that Moriarty had obviously prepared for him.

"Nice touch this, the pool where little Carl dies. I stopped him…" Here John paused, swallowed before carrying on.

Lestrade had to admire his courage. Everyone else that had had there life threatened had been blubbering the whole time, trying to keep it together. He didn't know if even he could have stopped any emotion from showing on his face for any length of time. It probably came from time spent in Afghanistan.

"I can stop John Watson too. Stop his heart."

"Who are you?" Sherlock called out, getting a reply after half a minute or so.

"You gave me my number…"

Lestrade shared a couple of glances with the other police officers that had been helping on this case. Everyone grabbed pen and paper to take notes.

"I thought you might call." A man walked out on the opposite side of the pool to Sherlock. He was well-dressed and had a sort of ferrety appearance around him. He was cleanly shaven and his hair was greased back. He had a large forehead with eyebrows that were thick just above his nose before tapering off at the ends.

Not what Lestrade had expected, but everything he had expected at the same time. He just WAS an evil genius.

"Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?"

"Both." Sherlock pulled the gun from his pocket.

Lestrade briefly wondered how he had gotten a licence to use a firearm but swiftly dismissed it. He was Sherlock Holmes after all.

"Jim Moriarty. Hi!" The man introduced himself sounded far too cheerful. Sherlock just gave him that questioning look. "Jim? Jim from the hospital?"

The Detective Inspector made a note on the paper as a reminder to check the hospitals for this Jim.

"Oh, did I really make such a fleeting impression, but then I suppose, that was rather the point." He drawled. Sherlock glanced over to John who was keeping his head down and not uttering a word.

Lestrade was certain that that was probably the smartest course of action to avoid getting shot and blowing a building to pieces.

"Don't be silly, someone else is holding the rifle. I don't like getting my hands dirty."

"His voice makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up." Whispered one of the newer employees. "It gives me the feeling that someone is dragging their nails over a chalkboard." Several of the other nodded or murmured in agreement. Sally reached for the phone on her desk.

"Don't you think we should dispatch someone to go over there to make sure everything gets sorted and no gets hurt." She said. At the many odd looks that she received she continued. "What? I don't like the Freak and I think that he should be locked up in prison and have the key thrown away, but that doesn't mean that I want him and John getting blown to smithereens and taking a building with them." She began dialling a number before Lestrade pulled the cord out of the wall.

"No. We wouldn't get there in time anyway and if we did they'd just shoot John anyway and set the bomb off. This is between Sherlock and this Jim. And I think that they're quite evenly matched on the brain works front. At this time of night I don't want to be dealing with both of them." The others nodded their agreement. Working with one Sherlock Holmes was hard enough. Having to deal with Sherlock Holmes and this Jim Moriarty who happened to find pleasure in blowing things up wasn't what anyone wanted to do anyday.

"I've given you a glimpse, Sherlock, just a teensy glimpse of what I've got going on in the big, bad world… I'm a specialist, you see. Like you." He stated, raising his eyebrows.

"Dear Jim… please will you fix it for me to get rid of my lover's nasty sister. Dear Jim please will you fix it for me, to disappear to South America." Moriarty was just making his way closer around the perimeter of the pool, smiling and obviously pleased with himself.

"Just so."

"Consulting criminal… Brilliant."

Lestrade just groaned at the thought of all the things that could possibly be going through Sherlock's brilliant mind at this point.

"Isn't it." Moriarty closed his eyes and seemed to bask in pride before changing his attitude slightly. "No one ever gets to me… And no one ever will."

"I did." Sherlock cocked the gun.

"You've come the closest, now your in my way."

"Thank you."

"Didn't mean it as a compliment."

"Yes you did."

"Yeah okay I did." Moriarty shrugged. "But the flirting's over Sherlock, daddy's had enough now." He said in sing-song voice that was just as creepy as his normal one. "I've shown you what I can do. I've cut lose all those people, all those little problems, even 30 million quid just to get you to come out and play. So take this as a friendly warning… My dear. Back off. Although, I have loved this, this little game of ours, playing Jim form IT… playing gay. Did you like the little touch with the underwear?"

"People have died."

"That's what people DO!"

Lestrade jumped, as did everyone in the room at Moriarty's change of tone and volume. It seemed that the voice echoed throughout the police station as well as in the pool building.

"I will stop you." Sherlock kept going at the same soft tone.

"No you won't." Moriarty denied.

"You alright." Sherlock now turned his attention to John.

Lestrade was pleased to know that Sherlock hadn't completely forgotten about the army doctor. He and John had become quite good friends through all the cases that they had taken part in and sometimes went to the pub to have a pint after a particularly hard one.

"You can talk, Johnny boy, go ahead." John merely looked up and nodded. Sherlock then brandished the memory stick.

Lestrade stopped himself from bashing his head against his desk at Sherlock's stupidity. Sherlock shouldn't have given the country's missile defense system to this complete and utter psycho who could use the information to raise havoc.

"What an idiot! Does he know how important those are?" One of the officers asked, obviously furious and yet trying to hide it. Lestrade merely nodded.

"Take it."

"Hm. Oh… That. The missile plans…." He kissed the memory stick before looking at it in his hand for a few seconds. "Borrrring! I could have got them anywhere." Then he tossed it in the pool. He had no time to recover from the movement so it was relatively easy for John to put him in a headlock.

"Sherlock! Run!"

Lestrade noticed that Moriarty had made a slight mistake in where he had stood, leaving his back exposed to John. He was once again surprised at how far John would go to save Sherlock's life. Not that Sherlock would listen to him.

"Oh! Oh! Oh… Good… Very good." Moriarty seemed to be enjoying this little twist in his plans in a sick sort of way. The laser was now dancing over Moriarty's chest, a sharp contrast to his crisp suit.

"Your sniper. Pull that trigger Mr. Moriarty then we both go up."

"Hmm… He's sweet. I can tell why you like having him around, but then people do get so sentimental about their pets." John tightened his grip on the man's neck. "They're so touchingly loyal. But… Whoops! You've rather shown your hand there Dr. Watson." The laser vanished before reappearing on Sherlock's forehead. John's eyes widened slightly and he let go, holding up his hands in surrender, laser returning to it's position on his chest.

"Gotcha…" Moriarty brushed himself down and smoothed out the creases. "Westwood. Do you know what happens if you don't leave me alone Sherlock, to you?"

"Oh let me guess, I get killed."

Lestrade rolled his eyes slightly at the obvious response.

"Kill you? Oh.. No… Don't be obvious I mean I'm going to kill you anyway someday, I don't want to rush it though, I'm saving it up for something special. Oh no no no no… If you don't stop prying... I will burn you. I will burn… the heart out of you."

"I have been reliably informed that I don't have one."

"But we both know that's not quite true." Moriarty said, shaking his head, eyes glancing just slightly over to where John stood.

Lestrade found himself nodding in agreement. John was perhaps the best thing that had ever happened to Sherlock. He was turning the man away from being a unsympathetic young man to a person that truly cared about you.

"Well! I'd better be off. Well so nice to have had a proper chat."

"What if I was to shoot you now, right now?"

"Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face, 'cause I'd be surprised Sherlock, really I would. And just a teensy bit… disappointed. And of course you wouldn't be able to cherish it for very long. Choi, Sherlock Holmes."

"Catch you later…"

"No you won't!" The door slammed behind him. Sherlock waited for a couple of seconds before glancing to John. He dropped the gun on the floor before beginning to rip the bomb and parka off John. The adrenaline that had kept John on his feet during the whole confrontation between the two geniuses had now vanished and the doctor was struggling to remain on his feet.

"I wonder how often they've done something like that." Sally said pulling a face. A couple of policemen snickered and Lestrade rolled his eyes.

"All right?" Sherlock questioned. When he didn't get an answer he asked more urgently. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Sherlock… Sherlock!" Sherlock tugged the parka and vest of his friend and threw it as far away as possible. He then went to check the door to make sure Moriarty had gone. John's legs buckled under him and he grabbed the wall to support himself. "Woah, God, Christ…"

Lestrade grabbed the phone and began to dial a number.

"We should send someone to pick them up and check them over. John looks like he's about to pass out. I'm amazed that he hasn't done so all ready."

Sherlock came back almost immediately and began walking back and forwards while scratching his head with a loaded gun.

Lestrade snorted at the severe lack of caution that Sherlock was taking with a loaded firearm.

"Are you okay?" John managed to say between his deep breaths for air.

"Me, yeah, I'm fine! I'm fine. Fine. Fine…" Sherlock began waving the gun around, clearly agitated. That a… that thing that you did… that you … um… offered to do. That was… good."

Everyone began covering their mouths and noses as very undignified snorts started to erupt. Sally was having trouble controlling her hiccups.

"Well that was THE lamest thank you that I've ever heard!" Lestrade couldn't help but agree.

"Well I'm glad no one saw that." John continued, pulling his jumper back over his shoulders.

"Hm?"

"You. Ripping off my clothes in a darkened swimming pool… People might talk."

"Hmmm… Like we aren't already…" Anderson contributed. Everyone whipped around to find the forensic worker standing on a chair at the far back.

"Anderson, please keep your comments to yourself, we don't need to listen to them 24/7." Lestrade said. Anderson wasn't too pleased with the answer.

"So now your taking the freak's side! I always knew that nothing good would come of having him around!" That sentence touched a raw nerve within the Detective Inspector and Lestrade snapped. Whirling out of seat he slapped Anderson over the face, causing him to topple off the chair.

"I don't take Sherlock's side in everything. He can be the most stubborn git that I've ever known but at least he helps at crime scenes unlike some people. I've been here since seven this morning, I haven't slept, I haven't eaten anything since lunch, I'm only on my feet thanks to the coffee machine and the fact that I need to know who the bomber is and right now I'm not in the mood to hear smart-alec comments about a guy who's risking his life to try and stop a guy who straps people to bombs for fun! So shut up or leave!" No one said a word as Anderson skulked out the door holding his face gingerly where his boss had slapped him. Lestrade just pretended that nothing had happened and continue to watch.

"People do little else." The two friends shared relieved grins before John attempted to get up. A couple of flashing lights began to weave across his chest once again.

Lestrade sighed outwardly while on the inside he was terrified at what would happen. It was never simple with these evil geniuses.

"Sorry boys! I'm so changeable!" John seemed to have resigned himself to his fate, still sitting down, leaning against the wall. "It is a weakness with me, but to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness. You can't be allowed to continue… You just can't. I would try to convince you but everything that I've had to say has crossed your mind."

Lestrade saw John and Sherlock make eye contact for a split second before John nodded once. The Detective Inspector would have missed it if he wasn't looking properly.

"Probably my answer has crossed yours." Sherlock turned to face Moriarty, gun outstretched, finger poised on the trigger. He lowered it until it was aimed at the small flashing blue light that the bomb was emitting.

Dramatic music began playing and everyone looked around in confusion.

"Sorry. I thought that this called for something a little different." The police officer who had started the music grinned a little sheepishly before turning the volume up a tad on his iPhone. Everyone waited with baited breath as they wondered what was going to happen.

Lestrade suddenly heard something that didn't sound like heavy or dramatic classical music. He quickly pressed pause on the phone and listened to the new sound. The Inspector immediately recognized the song from the late 70's but his confusion only grew. The song was coming from the laptop but why it was even playing mere seconds before a deadly explosion happened was what Lestrade couldn't comprehend. It was just plain ironic.

His confusion was cleared up mere seconds later by the relaxing of Moriarty's shoulders and his eye roll.

"D'you mind if I get that?" He asked nonchalantly as if he was talking about the weather.

"No, no, please. You've got the rest of your life."

Sherlock gestured with the gun and Lestrade made a mental note to give Sherlock proper gun handling if… when he got out of this scrape.

Moriarty took his phone out of his right-hand pocket and answered it.

"Hello? ... Yes, of course it is. What do you want?" He mouthed a sarcastic 'Sorry' at Sherlock to which Sherlock mouthed back 'It's fine'. Moriarty rolled his eyes and turned away from the Consulting Detective.

Lestrade relaxed slightly as the immediate danger had disappeared.

"SAY THAT AGAIN!"

Once again Lestrade's nerves got another trashing at the abrupt change in Moriarty's tone. Sherlock was frowning but didn't show any other emotion.

"Say that again, and know that if you're lying to me, I will find you and I will skin you." He waved his free hand around threateningly even though the person on the other end of the phone couldn't see it.

Lestrade shivered slightly. This guy would probably do just that to get what he wanted.

Sherlock looked at John, his brow creased ever so slightly in dread and worry.

"Wait." Moriarty lowered the phone and began to walk forward. Sherlock looked the bomb jacket and adjusted his grip on his pistol as Moriarty approached.

Lestrade found himself fiddling with the handle of his own gun subconsciously and quickly stopped, knowing that he was powerless to do anything.

Moriarty stopped at the jacket and gazed down at the tiled floor thoughtfully before lifting his head to look Sherlock in the eye.

"Sorry. Wrong day to die."

"Oh. Did you get a better offer?" Sherlock stated casually. Moriarty looked down at his phone before turning slowly and beginning to walk away.

"You'll be hearing from me, Sherlock."

Lestrade found that quite ominous but Sherlock didn't bat an eyelid.

"So if you have what you say you have, I will make you rich. If you don't, I'll make you into shoes." Moriarty strolled around the far end of the pool before opening the door through which he had entered. He raised his free hand and snapped his fingers. Instantly all lasers that had been focused on Sherlock and John disappeared and Moriarty vanished from sight.

Lestrade let out a deep breath that he hadn't realized that he was holding and relaxed, now that the danger had mostly gone.

"What happened there?" John asked, voice steady and unwavering.

"Someone changed his mind. The question is: who?"

Both Consulting Detective and ex-Army Doctor looked at the door through which their new arch-enemy had disappeared through before sharing a look that seemed to convey more then Lestrade could make out.

They both and Sherlock offered his hand which John promptly accepted.

Sirens could be heard in the background, signaling that the police had arrived.

"Hmmm… I guess that Lestrade ought to be given some credit for getting the police here quickly. That also means that someone actually does read my blog." Sherlock said in his deadpan voice. John snorted disapprovingly but the humor was evident in his eyes.

"I think that was a one-off occasion. No one really needs to know about 43 different types of tobacco." Sherlock opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by the police who had succeeded in breaking down the door. The bomb was immediately attended to so that it wouldn't explode by accident. Sherlock and John were both given an orange shock blanket that Sherlock looked down on in distain but was convinced by John to keep on.

The police then tried to get the two of them to go and sit in the ambulance but Sherlock steadfastly refused. Even John couldn't persuade him to move.

Lestrade thought that was slightly odd but let it slide.

Sherlock just stood there on the edge of the pool, hair ruffled, clad in a suit with a blanket draped across his shoulders. He looked decidedly pathetic. It wasn't long before the police investigation was finished and Sherlock had yet to move. Eventually the last policeman left the pool and Sherlock finally decided to move.

He removed the blanket that was lazily resting on his shoulders and tossed it so a corner of the fabric was just above the surface of the water.

He looked up and Lestrade was certain the Consulting Detective was staring right at him before speaking.

"Nice touch with the cameras, Lestrade. You're getting better."

And… The End! This was a lot of fun to write and I hope that you enjoyed it and that it lived up to your expectations of my first Sherlock story! Please review, it really makes my day even if it's just a smiley face or a 'good story'. I'm also keen for constructive criticism to help me improve.

Thanks,

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