(John’s POV: )

After a pleasant deduction of the judge (note sarcasm) and some quality time with Moriarty for Sherlock later, Sherlock was being released. As he signed for his personal property, I stood beside him, leaning back on the desk with my arms folded. Alice was standing behind him, smiling and watching expectantly.

“What did I say? I said, ‘Don’t get clever.’” I scolded.

“I can’t just turn it on and off like a tap.” Sherlock argued. Taking the bag of items from the custody officer, he turned to me. “Well?” He said expectantly.

“Well what?” I asked.

“You were there for the whole thing, up in the gallery, start to finish.” He clarified.

“Like you said it would be...” Alice said, referring to Jim’s defending barrister. “...he sat on his backside, never even stirred.” I nodded.

“Moriarty’s not mounting any defence.” Sherlock replied thoughtfully.

221B

We walked into the living room, Alice immediately going to change into different clothes. She really despised wearing dress clothes. Pity. She looked nice.

“Bank of England, Tower of London, Pentonville. Three of the most secure places in the country and six weeks ago Moriarty breaks in, no-one knows how or why.” I said tiredly. I sat down in my armchair as Sherlock began to pace. “All we know is...”

“...he ended up in custody.” Sherlock interrupted. He stopped and turned to me. I took a breath.

“Don’t do that.” I said irritably. Alice came out in Sherlock’s pyjama bottoms and a tank top, and sat in Sherlocks chair. Her eyes closed and I could only assume she was in her Mind Forest again.

“Do what?” Sherlock asked.

“The look.” I replied dryly.

“Look?”

“You’re doing the look again.” I answered.

“Well, I can’t see it, can I?” Sherlock asked sarcastically. I pointed to the mirror on the wall, as if Sherlock was an idiot for not realizing it was there... Which he kind of was.

Sherlock turned his head and looked at his reflection. “It’s my face.” He replied, sounding confused.

“Yes, and it’s doing a thing. You’re doing a ‘we both know what’s really going on here’ face.” I explained.

“Well, we do.” He reasoned, looking to Alice quickly. She didn’t respond.

“No. I don’t, which is why I find ‘The Face’ so annoying.” I retorted.

“If Moriarty wanted the Jewels, he’d have them. If he wanted those prisoners free, they’d be out on the streets. The only reason he’s still in a prison cell right now is because he chose to be there.” Sherlock broke away from my point, beginning to pace again. “Somehow this is part of his scheme.” He mumbled. Alice opened her eyes and got her first nightly cup of coffee.

(NEXT DAY, 221b, Alice’s POV: )

As soon as John left, my mobile buzzed. I groaned irritably and pulled it out.

“What do you want!?” I shouted at it. I opened it and read it.

“You should’ve come down. I liked seeing you, and John so wants you to get out of the flat.” It read. I groaned and threw it across the room to the couch. I had tried asking nicely for them to stop texting me. I tried telling them off rudely. I tried ignoring them. I tried to find the source of the message with Mycrofts help.  I got nothing, so I just read the texts and ignored them, but I had enough. I got up abruptly and went over to Sherlock, who was sitting at his microscope and sat on the table next to the 'scope.

“What?” He asked irritably.

“I’m bored! My Mind Forest is fine. I have nothing to do.” I replied crankily, his too-big house coat falling off my shoulder.

“You should have gone to the court.” He suggested. I blew a raspberry. “John is worried about you, you know. You should tell him about your nightmares.” He continued.

“…Telling you didn’t help. Why would telling John?” I shot back. He didn’t answer. “The only time I didn’t have any was when I accidentally fell asleep on your shoulder on the couch. I’m not doing that purposely. Ever.”

“What has your therapist said?” He asked.

“…Nothing. I haven’t been going.” I admitted, looking anywhere but at him. He looked up at me.

“We agreed.” He said, sounding hurt.

“I don’t want to. My problem. My job to solve it.”

“Where do you go during the time set for the appointments?”

“I go to the country and shoot things.” I said quietly. He slammed his fist on the table next to the 'scope and I flinched.

“I told you- we agreed you would get help!” He shouted. I didn’t reply. “You see that John is worried about you! We agreed! For John!” He growled.

“I’m fine.”

“Quit saying that!!” He ordered furiously. I pursed my lips and kept staring out the window. “You are not fine! Your PTSD has increased dramatically and you are suffering from it!” He continued, calming a small bit. He took a breath. “You’re going. And I’m going with you.” He said clearly and calmly, looking back into the microscope. I jumped off the table and stomped to John’s room and slammed the door.

A bit afterwards, I heard Sherlock’s phone begin to ring downstairs. I came down silently, almost tripping on the tail of the housecoat as I did. His eyes snapped open.

“Not Guilty. They found him Not Guilty. No defence, and Moriarty’s walked free.” John said. I could hear him speaking because it was so quiet in the flat. Sherlock lowered his phone.

“Sherlock. Are you listening? He’s out. You-you know he’ll be coming after you. Sher…” Sherlock switched the phone off and gets up off the sofa, cutting John off. He looked at me and nodded, and I went back upstairs to change.

As the kettle came to a boil, I came down in my usual attire, a blood red button-up being my choice of shirt. Sherlock switched off the burner and, now wearing a jacket in place of the dressing gown, made the tea and took a tray with tea necessities to the table beside John’s chair. He had a special cup set aside for me filled with coffee. Then he walked over to his own chair and picked up his violin and bow. I went over to the couch as he began to play Bach’s Sonata No. 1 in G minor. A few moments later, the noisy stair creaked noisily as it usually did and Sherlock stopped playing for a moment, listening carefully.  A couple of seconds later Sherlock resumed from a few notes before where he stopped, his back to the living room door. He kept playing until Jim Moriarty pushed open the door, then he stopped, but didn’t yet turn around.

“Most people knock.” Sherlock shrugged.

“But then you’re not most people, I suppose.” I finished darkly, not looking up from the floor inbetween my feet. Sherlock gestured over his shoulder with his bow towards the table.

“Kettle’s just boiled.” He said. Jim walked further into the room and bent to pick up an apple from the bowl on the coffee table in front of me.

“Johann Sebastian would be appalled.” Jim said nonchalantly. Tossing the apple in the air and catching it, he looked around the living room as if searching for a seat. “May I?” He asked in mock politeness.

“Please.” Sherlock replied, turning to face him and gesturing with the end of his bow towards John’s chair. Jim immediately walked over to Sherlock’s chair and sat in that one instead. Sherlock looked slightly unnerved while I smiled faintly. Jim took out a small penknife and started to cut into the apple as Sherlock put down the violin and began to pour tea into the cups. I stood up and slowly walked behind John’s chair, watching Jim carefully as I did.

“Hello, Alice dear.” Jim greeted, his tone and mood not changing in any way as he spoke to me. When I didn’t reply he continued. “Hope you liked the texts.” I tried not to act surprised when he said that, and I could feel my mobile in my pocket suddenly become very heavy. The psychopath smiled faintly and looked back to the teacups as Sherlock poured.

“You know when he was on his death bed, Bach, he heard his son at the piano playing one of his pieces. The boy stopped before he got to the end...” Jim began.

“...and the dying man jumped out of his bed, ran straight to the piano and finished it.” Sherlock finished, interrupting him.

“Couldn’t cope with an unfinished melody.” Jim said.

“Neither can you. That’s why you’ve come.” Sherlock replied.

“But be honest: you’re just a tiny bit pleased.” Jim said, sounding almost proud.

“What, with the verdict?” Sherlock asked, picking up one of the teacups and adding a splash of milk. He turned and offered the cup to Jim, who sat up straighter, turned it so he could grab it with his left hand, and took it.

“With me...” He began. “...back on the streets.” He continued, softening is voice. He gazed up into Sherlock’s eyes, smiling. “Every fairytale needs a good old-fashioned villain.” He finished, glancing at me and down my body. He grinned. Sherlock turned away and gave me my cup after adding some sugar.

“You need me, or you’re nothing. Because we’re just alike, you and I – except you’re boring.” Jim added. Sherlock took his tea as Jim shook his head in disappointment. “You’re both on the side of the angels.” He sipped his tea as Sherlock picked up his own cup and stirred his drink.

“Got to the jury, of course.” I said, ignoring his angel comment.

“I got into the Tower of London; you think I can’t worm my way into twelve hotel rooms?” Jim answered condescendingly.

“Cable network.” Sherlock and I said together.

“Aren’t you two adoorrabblle.” He said, drawling out ‘adorable’. “Every hotel bedroom has a personalised TV screen…” Sherlock unbuttoned his jacket and sat down in John’s chair.  “…and every person has their pressure point; someone that they want to protect from harm.” Jim lifted his teacup to his mouth again. “Easy-peasy.” He said softly. In a perhaps unconscious mimicking of the man seated opposite him, he too had his cup lifted close to his mouth. I pursed my lips at his action.

“So how’re you going to do it.” Sherlock began, pointedly blowing gently on his tea. “...burn me?” He finished, thinking back to in the pool when Jim had said that he would burn the heart out of Sherlock.

“Oh, that’s the problem – the final problem. Have you worked out what it is yet?” Jim replied, still speaking softly. Sherlock took a sip of his tea and looked across his cup to the other man. I took a sip as to not seem uncomfortable, even though I was. Extremely. “What’s the final problem?” He asked, looking at me again and smiling across his own cup. “I did tell you...” He hinted. “but did you listen?” He asked, sing-song but still speaking softly. I resisted the urge to go beat him senseless. He took another sip of tea and then put the cup down into the saucer. I took another sip as well. He put his hand onto his knee and started idly drumming his fingers. Sherlock’s eyes lowered to watch the movement, and as soon as they were watching the fingers, Jim winked at me, a smirk playing on his lips. I quickly looked down to the fingers. “How hard do you find it, having to say ‘I don’t know’?” He asked, his fingers still drumming. Sherlock put his cup into its saucer and shrugged. I awkwardly copied him.

“I dunno.” Sherlock replied nonchalantly.

“Oh, that’s clever; that’s very clever; awfully clever.” Jim complimented. He chuckled in an upper class tone as Sherlock smiled humourlessly while putting his cup back onto the tray. “Speaking of clever, have you told your little friends yet?” He continued.

“Told them what?” Sherlock asked, almost unnoticeably flicking his eyes to me. I began to wonder.

“Why I broke into all those places and never took anything.” Jim explained.

“No.” Sherlock replied. My worry faded.

“But you understand.” Jim tested, openly looking at me.

“Obviously.” We said simultaneously. We didn’t actually mean to, so we looked at each other in surprise.  Jim chuckled.

“Off you go, then.” He encouraged. He had carved a piece off his apple and put it into his mouth with the flat of his penknife.

“You want me to tell you what you already know?” Sherlock asked.

“No; I want you to prove that you know it.” Jim corrected. I rolled my eyes.

“You didn’t take anything because you don’t need to.” I began.

“Good.” Jim said, almost sarcastically.

“You’ll never need to take anything ever again.” Sherlock continued.

“Very good. Because...?” Jim hinted.

“Because nothing... nothing in the Bank of England, the Tower of London or Pentonville Prison could possibly match the value of the key that could get you into all three.” I finished. Sherlock raised his chin ever so slightly in agreement.

“I can open any door anywhere with a few tiny lines of computer code. No such thing as a private bank account now – they’re all mine. No such thing as secrecy – I own secrecy. Nuclear codes – I could blow up NATO in alphabetical order. In a world of locked rooms, the man with the key is king; and honey, you should see, me, in a crown.” Jim bragged. He smiled in delight at Sherlock.

“You were advertising all the way through the trial. You were showing the world what you can do.” Sherlock realized.

“And you were helping. Big client list: rogue governments, intelligence communities... terrorist cells. They all want me.” He lifted another piece of apple to his mouth with the penknife. “Suddenly, I’m Mr. Sex.” He added, chewing as he said it.

“If you could break any bank, what do you care about the highest bidder?” I mumbled, trying hard to not compliment the criminal.

“I don’t. I just like to watch them all competing. ‘Daddy loves me the best!’ Aren’t ordinary people adoorrablle?” He answered, saying ‘adorable’ in the same way as he had earlier. “Well, you know: you’ve got John. Sorry dear, you aren’t ordinary. I should get myself a live-in one.” He said, almost to himself. I didn’t know whether or not to take the ordinary comment as a compliment.

“Why are you doing all of this?” Sherlock asked casually.

“It’d be so funny.” Jim said, still thinking about having a live-in ordinary person.

“You don’t want money or power – not really.” I interrupted his thoughts. Jim dug the point of his penknife into the apple.

“What is it all for?” Sherlock asked.

He leaned forward, speaking quietly. “I want to solve the problem – our problem; the final problem.” He lowered his head. “It’s gonna start very soon, Sherlock: the fall. But don’t be scared. Falling’s just like flying except there’s a more permanent destination.” He raised his head and whistled a slowly descending note as he gradually looked down towards the floor. His gaze reached the floor and he made the sound of something thudding to the ground. Raising his head slowly, he glowered across at Sherlock, who bared his teeth slightly and then stood and buttoned his jacket. I just glared at the psychopath just because I didn’t know what he meant.

“Never liked riddles.” Sherlock lied. Jim stood as well and straightened his jacket, locking his gaze onto Sherlock’s eyes. I stood up too, again the last one.

“Learn to. Because I owe you a fall, Sherlock. I... owe... you.” He said ominously. He continued to gaze at Sherlock for about six seconds, sealing his promise. Then he looked at me, stepping up to me so that he was only a few inches from my face. His eyes flicked over my face, studying my expression. Sherlock glared at him.

“Be careful.” Jim said, sounding sincere and looking the part as well. He slowly turned and walked out. Sherlock and I didn’t move as Jim left the room, and I was beyond confused at his comment.

A bit after Jim left, Sherlock moved towards the apple, which Jim had left on the arm of his chair with the penknife still stuck in it. He picked it up by the knife handle and looked at it. Jim had dug a large circular piece out of the apple, and on the left of the circle he had carved an ‘I’ shape while on the right of the circle was a ‘U’ shape, forming the letters ‘I O U’. Sherlock’s mouth twitched into the beginning of a smile as I sat down on the couch, rubbing my face in exasperation and exhaustion.

Here you all go! An update! You'll all really like the next chapter! This is my present to you on this wonderous day! Sorry it's long. And I wanted to dedicate this to jalex_barakarth too, but sadly I can only do one dedication. Enoy, vote, and comment fun peoples! =)