Author's Note

Hello all. Okay, so I had this idea when I was watching Desolation of Smaug, which was quite some time ago. I remember thinking that it was funny that Bilbo and Smaug were played by the same actors that played John and Sherlock in Sherlock. So, I found it very difficult to focus on the scene where Bilbo tries to look for Arkenstone whilst trying to keep Smaug from killing him. I read the book quite some years back, so I already knew what was going on. All the while, I kept thinking how funny it would be if Smaug were to say something very Sherlock-like. So, I have decided to put my own twist into the story and make a crossover between Sherlock and The Hobbit simply because I can.

Oh, btw, season 1 of Sherlock was my favourite. So, this is based on whatever had occurred in Season 1. No Mary (Eventhough I love her) or Irene.

Summary : John follows Sherlock on a case. Things don't go down very well. Want to read about how John reacts to a dragon version of Sherlock? Summary really sucks. Read the author's note inside. It explains a lot more well than the summary does. Give it a shot. It's worth the time :) John/Bilbo and Sherlock/Smaug.

Disclaimer: I own nothing here besides the plot change.

To say that John was confused was an understatement. He was completely baffled as to why he was running halfway across London in the pouring rain. He just didn't understand.

"John!" He heard Sherlock's voice some distance away, muffled by the rain. "Hurry up. We're going to lose him." He continued.

John slowed down and looked up to see Sherlock's cloak illuminated by the dim lights of the street lamps, swishing behind him as he disappeared into an alley on his right.

Drenched from head to toe, John ran after the world's only Consulting Detective, wondering how on earth he had ended up here. One minute they were at a crime scene, with Sherlock observing the murder victim's body before yelling at everyone to shut up and making Anderson leave the room because his face was putting him off. After some incoherent mumbling and looking out the window of the flat, he clapped his hands together and his face lit up much like a child during Christmas before running out into the rain, egging John to follow him.

Whilst following Sherlock, John had managed to pick up a few details. Why had Sherlock gone out of the flat? Simple, a man was haggling outside the crime scene. Sherlock was keen enough to notice him and the man immediately made a dash for it as soon as he saw Sherlock approaching him. If he wasn't guilty of anything then why would he run? Conclusion, he is either connected to the murder or he is the murderer.

John thought the man to be very stupid. It was very reckless of him to be hanging around the crime scene if he was indeed the murderer but then again, Sherlock had mentioned to him once that people like this tend to have enormous egos thus they like to see for themselves if they've managed to outsmart the police.

Turning into the alley that Sherlock had disappeared into mere seconds ago, John came to an abrupt halt. It was dark. In fact, it was so dark that John could barely make out the walls on either side of him. He looked ahead and saw a blurry, dim lighting of a lamp post at the very end of the alley which was miles away.

Queer thing was he couldn't see Sherlock at all. He was certain that Sherlock had come this way. So, where could he have gone?

Running a hand through his wet hair, John tried to focus. Sherlock had to be here somewhere.

"Sherlock," He called softly into the dark. He waited for a few seconds to pass. There was no answer but he was fairly sure that he wasn't alone in the alley. The sound of feet shuffling could be heard from some distance albeit very softly.

"Sherlock," He tried again, a little louder. "Are you here?" He asked before instinctively reaching out for his gun at his back pocket. It wasn't there. John fumbled a little, patting his pockets for any sign of his gun. He groaned softly, Sherlock must have nicked it from him at the crime scene.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, John contemplated on the best thing to do at the moment. Should he stay put, return back to the flat or move forward and face whatever that lay in front of him.

"John," Sherlock's voice came from somewhere inside the darkness, successfully breaking his chain of thoughts.

"John," Sherlock repeated. "Do keep quiet. Our murderer has a gun." He said in an eerily calm voice.

John's brows creased together. So what if he had a gun. Sherlock had one too and that's when John realized. He mentally slapped himself for being so careless. He had left his gun at Baker Street and Sherlock knew that hence the warning.

"Where is he?" John asked as he took a few steps forward. He still couldn't see Sherlock.

"I'm," Said a new voice. "Right here."

A man, about the same height as Sherlock if not an inch shorter, walked out from the shadows pulling a very disgruntled looking Sherlock with him. He had a very stocky figure and he looked to be in his mid thirties. His cheek was bruised and Sherlock had a bloody cut on his upper lip.

There had been a brawl between the two of them and it was clear that it hadn't end quite as Sherlock had expected it too. His original plan was that he would end up with the upper hand.

The stranger was definitely a man with a great amount of physical strength, John observed. He had successfully pinned both of Sherlock's hands behind his back with one hand and another held a gun to the side of Sherlock's head.

John did a mental scan of Sherlock to see if he could locate any life threatening injuries. He found none. Sherlock seemed to have a nasty bruise blooming on the side of his forehead and a few scratches here and there but that was it.

John let out a sigh of relief which caught Sherlock's attention. He looked at John with a glum expression. He was not happy about his situation at all. He had underestimated the strength of the man next to him and he was not one bit proud of it.

However, he did get one thing right; the man next to him was the murder victim's ex-husband. After some thought, Sherlock recalled his name to be Sylvester. Now the big question was why? Why had he murdered his ex-wife?

"She met someone." Sherlock exclaimed before locking eyes with John. He needed John to understand the severity of the situation. The situation could either play out very nicely for all of them or it could get very ugly rather quickly.

John gave a slight nod to show that he understood. Sylvester, however, was quite taken aback with Sherlock's revelation that he didn't notice the small exchange between the Detective and his P.A.

"What are you implying?" Sylvester asked harshly, gripping Sherlock's arms tighter, waiting for an explanation.

Exasperated, Sherlock looked up to sky. The rain had just stopped and glittering stars adorned the night sky.

"Your wife," Sherlock started, looking ahead now. "Or might I say your ex-wife that you still love, met someone else. You thought it was just a phase and that she'll get over him quickly enough. However, judging from the shiny, new engagement ring on her right hand, she didn't and you couldn't accept it." Sherlock said in a breath.

John watched the man closely. At first, he seemed to wear an expression of utter shock but that quickly changed into a look of horror before finally being replaced by anger as his cheeks began to puff out.

"I didn't mean to do it." He spluttered, getting a better grip of Sherlock's arms. "She was supposed to come back to me. I loved her! For six years I loved her and she forgets me just like that. She forgot all about me!" He half yelled whilst jamming the gun into the side of Sherlock's head in anger.

Sherlock winced at the impact but was otherwise unfazed. He looked at John with a quirked eyebrow as if he was asking, "Not good?"

John shook his head slightly before frowning at Sherlock, a gesture which clearly says, "A bit not good."

Taking that as a cue, John decided it was high time that he stepped in. If Sherlock did any more talking, one of them were bound to be shot.

"Listen," John started calmly, directing his entire focus to the man with the hand gun. "Why don't we all just take a second to calm down and clear our heads?" He asked in the gentlest way possible.

"Calm down?" Sylvester questioned John, incredulously. "I killed the woman I love. How can I possibly calm down? I'm going to get arrested if I get caught." He stated looking quite mad. His hold on Sherlock never faltered.

"But the police don't know anything. I saw them and no one even spared a glance at me. It's just you two." He continued, pointing the gun at John now.

John risked a quick peek at Sherlock before slowly raising his hands in front of him, an act of surrender. He was sure that from that point on everything was going to go downhill.

"Killing us won't do much good to anybody. In fact, it's just going to get you into more trouble." John started slowly, trying hard to get the attention of the mad man in front of him.

"D.I. Lestrade, the Detective in charge of her case, he's got a real sharp mind." John continued, earning a loud snort and an eye roll from Sherlock. John glared daggers at him for a full minute before turning his attention back to Sylvester.

"He's going to catch you sooner or later." John continued, taking a step closer to the two men. He's one and only aim at the moment was to disarm the dangerous man.

"Stop right there!" Sylvester yelled at John. "Take another step closer and I'll blow his head off." He emphasized by pointing the gun back to the side of Sherlock's head.

John stopped immediately, his eyes moving very quickly from Sylvester to Sherlock and then to the gun in between them.

"I know you loved your wife very much-" John started slowly but he never had a chance to finish his sentence for another voice interrupted him.

"Ex-wife," Sherlock interjected with a cough, earning a glare from John. "Dead ex-wife, whom you murdered." He continued smugly.

Things went absolutely disastrous after that.

Sylvester yelled something incoherent to Sherlock, momentarily forgetting about John. He was just about to fire his gun when he felt his whole arm being pulled backwards.

The movement caught him off guard. Panic swelled inside Sylvester as he felt his arm being pulled. Without thinking he pulled the trigger and a clear shot rang out, cutting the silent night like a blade.

For a genius, Sherlock could really be an utter idiot sometimes, John thought to himself. The minute that those words spilled out from his mouth, John knew without a doubt that there was no time to waste. Quickly, he ran behind Sylvester just as he was about to shoot Sherlock and jerked his arm backwards, hoping that the shot would miss its target.

Luckily for Sherlock, Sylvester did miss his target and the hand pinning his arms loosened. Sherlock was able to break free from his grip. He then punched Sylvester in the face, successfully knocking him out in the process.

It all happened rather quickly and the feel of adrenaline pumping throughout his body made him grin like a maniac. Standing over Sylvester's unconscious body, Sherlock clasped his hands together before turning to face John.

"That was brilliant, John." He said with a glint in his eyes. He looked at John who had his head bent down and his eyes shut.

"John," He said cautiously, his grin disappearing almost instantly. "Are you alright?"

"You utter cock," John choked out as he clutched his right arm. Slowly, he looked up and groaned loudly. He's blurry vision was seeing two Sherlock's instead of one which only meant one thing, more trouble.

He swayed on his feet slightly and was about to fall backwards when he felt Sherlock rushing up to him and cradling his upper body. Very gently, Sherlock laid him down onto the brick pavement.

"What's wrong?" He asked calmly before noticing the vice grip John had on his right arm.

Prying John's hand away from his arm, Sherlock carefully removed John's coat to reveal the blood covered bullet wound just beneath his right clavicle. At the sight of John's blood, panic swelled inside of Sherlock.

"God John, there's blood. There's so much of blood." He said quickly, letting his nerves get the better of him.

"What do I do? I don't know what to do, John. There's a reason why you're the doctor, not me." Sherlock continued quickly.

"Sherlock, will you please shut up." John hissed, surprising Sherlock. "Now, calm down. It's not like you've never seen blood before." He continued.

Next to him, Sherlock stilled. He took long, deep breaths and tried to calm his nerves.

"Are you calm?" John asked him.

"Yes." Sherlock replied in a huff.

"Ok, I want you to listen to me very carefully. Call for an ambulance now." He instructed Sherlock. Immediately, he could hear Sherlock tapping away on his Blackberry and yelling orders to someone at the other end. John's vision blurred further until he was only seeing blotches of colours around him.

"Sherlock," John called quietly the minute he was done talking on his mobile. "I think I'm going to faint soon so would you please make sure I get to the hospital all right?" He asked as the darkness seemed to find its way into his vision.

"John, please. I need you to stay awake." He heard Sherlock say. The urgency in his voice was clear. He listened to Sherlock plead for him to stay awake until finally he could hear nothing.

"Bilbo?"

John stirred. He let out a throaty groan. He had expected to be lying on something soft and comfortable. Instead, he felt like he was lying down on a bed of jagged rocks.

"Bilbo?" He heard the voice say again. John cracked open his eyes. It was dark. The moon had disappeared from the night sky and dawn was approaching.

"Thank goodness. You had us worried there for a minute, little halfling. " Balin said, peering down at him so closely that his beard was tickling the tip of John's nose.

'Bilbo,' John thought. He was dreaming, for sure, but somewhere in his unconscious state, John was sure that he was Bilbo and Bilbo was him.

This was a dwarf he was looking at. He was on a journey with dwarves and he was meant to be their burglar. He had found a mysterious ring and Gandalf was late. They have made their way to The Lonely Mountain and he had found the key hole. Then, he remembered tripping on a rock and falling face first onto the unforgiving rocky path.

Bilbo groaned loudly. Of course he had fallen. How embarrassing! Oh, how he wished he was back home in his little hobbit hole.

"Up now, Master Burglar, you have a stone to fetch and a dragon to sneak past." Said Thorin as he helped Bilbo up onto his feet.

Author's Note :

What did you think? Bad or good? Continue or not? I really want to know if it's worth continuing. If you think so thn leave a review otherwise I might pull the plug on this fic cause the next few chapters will be a lot of work and I don't want to waste my time if no one's going to read it. Thanks :)