(A/N Over ONE HUNDRED views! I cannot tell you how happy I am!! Ah! Anyway, here's a new chapter for you all! Please vote/comment if you like it! Thanks for reading my lovelies, and I hope you enjoy it!

-CH xx)

''It seems you really don't expect the unexpected from me, Sherlock. I thought it would've been obvious to you,'' Moriarty said, looking in the rear view mirror.

Moriarty had the black tinted window up, blocking the driver and passenger seat off from the black seats, so there was no way the Holmes boys could harm Moriarty.

Sherlock noticed Mycroft press a button on his watch, and he acknowledged it to be an emergency signal.

Sherlock looked out the window, and tried to work out where they were. He realized that they were headed to an abandoned warehouse, that took approximately an hour and a half to reach from the bar in London.

When they arrived at the remote, abandoned warehouse, both Sherlock and Mycroft noticed the armed men around the outside of the warehouse, all alert and wearing nightvision goggles.

The back doors were opened by a tall

''MY typical Sherlock,'' John mumbled, as he slowly regained conciousness.

''John!'' Sherlock cried out in relief.

''Sherlock... Where are we?''

Sherlock relayed the situation to John, who was also suffering from the effects of a hangover.

''I'm sorry Lestrade and Mycroft that your happy day was ruined by this...'' John said slowly, still waking up.

'Typical John,' Sherlock thought to himself. 'He cares about everyone other than himself.'

''Its alright, John. We're all in this together, yeah?'' Lestrade said.

John smiled. ''I guess you're right. So where's Moriarty? Thought he'd be trying to play mind games with Sherlock.''

''He's got something in mind; he's holding back...'' Sherlock said as he thought it through.

Men were still around the inside of the building, and Sherlock was getting beyond bored.

''Hey!'' Sherlock shouted, gaining the men's attention. ''We need to go to the bathroom. Can you at least give us that?''

Two of the men spoke quietly to each other, no doubt discussing whether or not to allow it. One of the men left the warehouse.

''Sherlock,'' Mycroft said warningly, ''what are you planning?''

''Trust me. And I'm sure we  

all need to use the bathroom, do you not?''

John and Lestrade agreed, as did a reluctant Mycroft.

A few moments later, Moriarty walked into the warehouse, dressed in an expensive suit, his hair slicked back.

''Good to see you're all awake now,'' Moriarty said, eyeing up John and Lestrade.

''We need to use the bathroom,'' Sherlock said impatiently.

Moriarty rolled his eyes. ''Have you no patience?''

''Oh, come on, Moriarty. You know I have more patience than most. I don't want to embarrass myself in front of you. Let us go to the bathroom.''

Moriarty sighed and rolled his eyes, looking much like a spoilt child. ''Alright. You can all go to the bathroom. One at a time though, I don't want you all plotting an escape,'' Moriarty said lightly.

Moriarty signaled some men forward, and they untied Sherlock, John, Mycroft and Lestrade.

Moving their hands around to try gain back their circulation, the four men were escorted to the old bathroom. They all went and did their business, but on the way back to their seats, Sherlock stopped Moriarty.

''What are you doing?'' Sherlock asked.

''Oh, you know perfectly well what I'm doing, Sherlock. It's all a game. We haven't had a good game in aaaages, have we?'' Moriarty dragged out the word 'ages', making it sound rather frightening.

''This isn't a FUN game, though, is it? You've got other people here. It's not between US, is it?''

''What do you suppose I do, Sherlock? KILL them?'' Moriarty was getting closer to Sherlock, and as much as it repulsed Sherlock, he had to keep up his charade.

''No. Let them go. Keep me here. Do whatever you want to do.''

Moriarty smirked at that prospect. He thought about what he wanted to do, then smiled more. He walked away from Sherlock, and went over to his men.

John shot Sherlock a questioning look as Moriarty spoke to his men. ''Go with it,'' Sherlock mouthed. John looked confused, but didn't question further.

''Alright, off you go,'' Moriarty said, directly to Lestrade, Mycroft and John. They all looked around warily, but Lestrade and Mycroft soon left the building, expecting John to follow. Mycroft knew what Sherlock was doing. All though he didn't get along well with his brother, he still knew him well; knew what he would do, and for that, he was grateful.

John, however, didn't leave, nor did he realize that Sherlock had sacrificed himself to Moriarty.

''Come on, Sherlock,'' John said, looking at Sherlock in desperation.

''I-I can't come, John. I'm sorry,'' Sherlock stuttered.

''What?'' John asked, confused. ''Come on Sherlock, we have to go now! He's letting us go!''

''You, Mycroft and Lestrade, yes. Not me. I have to stay.''

John looked at Moriarty, who was clearly enjoying the show.

''This is the only way I can keep you safe, John,'' Sherlock tried.

John shook his head. ''No!'' He shouted. ''You and I are together, Sherlock! You can't keep doing this! Let me help protect you... Me... Us!''

Sherlock felt the tears well up in his eyes. ''I'm sorry, John. I can't let you do that.'' Sherlock's voice was barely a whisper, but John heard him loud and clear.

With a slow, sad nod, John left the building.

Minutes later, Sherlock heard a gun shot. Had they killed John? He didn't know. He crumpled to the ground and just sat there, for once, not knowing what was going to happen to him