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I O U Much More (Post-Reich) Chapter 8

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WARNING: This story will contain mature themes including male on male sex, violence, and swearing. If you don't like those things then this story is not for you.

Please read the AN at the bottom :D

*~~~*

In spite of earlier doubts, living at the club wasn't so bad, and it only took a week or so to fall into a comfortable routine. During the day, John would read or watch Sherlock experiment, or work on plans for the wedding. Occasionally, Lestrade would come by for help on a case that Sherlock could easily solve without even seeing the crime scene. Every afternoon, the doctor would visit to help John with rehabilitation for his leg, which was going smoothly. And in the evenings, when they had a bit more privacy, John would help Sherlock gain a little more...experience.

After a few weeks of lying low, Sherlock started leave the safehouse incognito, looking for information on Moriarty. He had the homeless network keeping their eyes and ears open, but they had had little luck, so he'd needed to join the effort himself. He felt bad that John was essentially trapped in the club, as he was sure he was frustrated with the place by now, but at the moment it was the only option, as John's leg wasn't ready to be on the run.

It was one evening about a month into their stay when John had finally had enough. He'd just received a letter back from Harry, telling them that she would not be coming to the wedding, and needless to say, it was a bit of a disappointment. Their guest list was already a bit sparse, since they didn't want to send word to too many people about the occasion and possibly attract Moriarty's attention. But in reality, he should have expected as much. He balled the letter up and threw it at the wall.

Sherlock had come down the stairs at that moment with an armful of papers. He looked at the crumpled ball near his feet then at John who still had the letter's envelope in his lap. "She's not coming."

"No," John replied simply. "She's not coming. Sends her well wishes, though." He scoffed bitterly. Sherlock frowned and sat next to John, putting a hand on his shoulder. He knew that John and his sister didn't have a much better relationship than he and Mycroft, but she was just about the only family he had to invite.

"It's her loss," he told his fiance. "She's going to miss out on all the fun."

John turned to Sherlock and managed a smile, leaning towards him. "Right," he said. "All the fun. What are all those papers for?"

"Ah, yes." Sherlock spread them out on the bed in front of John with barely repressed excitement. "They're papers to start the adoption process. It takes quite a while so I thought we would get a jump on it. Hopefully my work will soon be done and we won't have to worry about our lovely friend Jim threatening our son."

"If he even tried, I would cut his balls off," John said without a moment's hesitation. And he was utterly serious. He eyed the paperwork. There was quite a lot of it, and it looked rather daunting, but the prospect of someday having a child made him anxious to get started on it.

"Yes, it's very extensive," Sherlock said, seeing the way that John was looking at the pile of forms. "But I thought since we don't have much else going on it would keep us busy for a while."

"You mean since I don't have much else going on," John said, a hint of acid in his tone. "You have plenty going on. I don't."

Sherlock sighed. Here came another rehashing of this week's argument. "I'm working on this as quickly as I can. A few in the homeless network think they might have finally found a location. I was going to check it tonight." He took John's hand, trying to keep him from exploding. "I really do wish you could come. I thoroughly miss our adventures together. But I know your leg isn't completely ready for action yet..."

"My leg is fine," John snapped. "I'm limping, is all, and that's easily fixed with my cane. I can help, Sherlock. Let me come work with you again."

Sherlock hesitated. He knew that John's healing progress was much better than average, and if they were just going for a leisurely stroll in the park, it would be perfectly fine. But this excursion could include quick escapes and necessary silence that a man with a limp and a clanking cane couldn't exactly provide. He would never forgive himself if he let John come when he wasn't ready and then he got hurt again. Or worse. "John...I don't think it's a good idea-"

"For God's sake, stop babying me!" John growled, ripping his hand away from Sherlock's. Well, so much for keeping him calm. "I'm a grown man, I know what I can handle!"

"I'm not trying to baby you!" Sherlock retorted. "But you're not in top physical shape anymore and that could lead to problems in this sort of situation. I'm just trying to protect you!"

"But I'm telling you that I'm fine!" John's voice was rising with every second, expressing all the pent up frustration of being invalided, trapped, and pursued. He would have loved to take it all out on Moriarty's face, but he wasn't there, so Sherlock was getting the brunt of it "Let me make my own decision about whether or not I think I'm fit to go with you!"

Sherlock let out a small groan, putting his hands to his head. He hadn't wanted to argue with John, but the doctor was so restless lately, he was easily set off by the littlest things. "Alright fine. I'm sorry."

When Sherlock didn't yell back at him, John's shoulders dropped a little and he realised that he'd been harsh. He knew why Sherlock didn't want him to come, and it was really touching having the detective be so open about his desire to keep him safe. But everything was driving him mad right now, and he would kill for some fresh air. "No, Sherlock..." he said, rubbing a hand over his face. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I'm just...I'm climbing the walls. I need to get out of here."

Sherlock shook his head. "I know. It's cabin fever talking," he said. He reached for John's hands again, and held them across both their laps. He couldn't believe he was actually going to agree to this, but he wanted John to be happy, and he was certain that with both of them there, they would have a better chance of reaching the desired end. "Come with me tonight. If this information is any good, we should be able to finish him off and be back to Baker Street by midnight."

"Thank God!" John immediately perked up, and he was already moving to stand, grabbing the handle of his cane. He couldn't wait to get out there, both because he wanted to escape this place, and because he wanted to see Moriarty's downfall.

Sherlock smiled, a bit weak, but concealed his worries. It wouldn't do for him to be fretful over John while they were out. The doctor would likely only get more annoyed with him. He was a bit glad to have John along, though. He did miss their many amazing chases. "It'll be nice to have my blogger along again," he said.

John grinned, stretching a little to get himself ready for what he assumed would be a lot of legwork. "I suppose me writing a blog post will be something like your official return."

"Yes," Sherlock said with a nod. "Of course, that will probably mean an onslaught of media trying to discover how I lived and then of course a slew of new cases. But I think we can manage." Much as he hadn't always enjoyed the publicity, it would be good to have a steady stream of clients.

"Of course we can manage," John said. "The cases especially, because we both need something to keep us busy at the moment. The media, I think we'll have to be a little more careful than last time around." While there was no removing themselves from the spotlight completely anymore, the media had nearly brought them down once before, and they couldn't afford something like that to happen again.

Sherlock hummed in agreement. "I need a good case like I need a new box of patches. I've been going through far too many." He was already wearing quite a few, unable to smoke in the tiny, windowless safehouse. "It's becoming expensive. Normally I don't care for money from solving cases but it would help at the moment."

John pursed his lips. "You and your patches..." he murmured. It was good that Sherlock wasn't smoking and therefore sentencing himself to various diseases and medical problems in the future, but his dependence on so much nicotine wasn't that beneficial either. "Maybe someday you'll find a healthier food for thought, yeah?"

"Old habits die hard, love," Sherlock said, but smiled a little. "Maybe once we're out of here I'll cut back a bit." He wouldn't be nearly as stressed once Moriarty was off their backs, so it would be easier for him to go without as many patches.

"I would appreciate that," John said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Can we get out of here now? I'm ready to go." He'd been ready to go for days.

Sherlock took John's hand, squeezing and taking a deep breath. "Yes, let's go."

The two of them made their way out of the basement room and up into the main club. Sherlock led them to the back door where they slipped out into the darkness behind the building, and disappeared. They went through alleys and down side streets where there was little to no activity, taking the stealthiest route to the location the homeless network had discovered: an abandoned warehouse on the shore of the Thames. The detective sincerely hoped that this would be the end of their troubles. He was still scared out of his mind that something might happen to John, and that this was a huge mistake.

John limped along beside Sherlock. The cane felt familiar in his hand, like all those years ago when he'd visited his first crime scene with the once enigmatic consulting detective. He wasn't so mysterious anymore. Now, John could read him like a book, and in spite of his efforts to keep it under wraps, he could see Sherlock was still worried. They were just about there when he finally spoke up. "Sherlock," he said quietly. "I'm going to be fine. We're going to end this together. I promise."

Sherlock looked to John, and the sheer and solid determination in the doctor's eyes was actually comforting. While he wasn't completely reassured, at least he knew that John wasn't going to go down without a fight.

When they reached the warehouse, he put a finger to his lips and gestured for John to look at one side of the building while he checked the other. He crept around the side, searching for signs that anyone had been there. But as far as he could tell, the place seemed abandoned. He wasn't surprised, of course, that there was no trace. Jim was good at cleaning up after himself. "Anything?" he hissed to John when they met again at the front.

"Nothing," John replied softly, gritting his teeth. He gripped his gun steadily in his free hand, ready to shoot at a moment's notice. He couldn't deny that actually being here now was putting him on edge. Moriarty was tricky. "So should we go inside?"

"Suppose so." Sherlock examined the door. "Though it seems too easy...We can't underestimate him." He stepped toward the door, looking for a trigger to an alarm or some kind of trap but found nothing. If Moriarty was really here, would he leave himself so vulnerable? He went up to the door step by step and pushed it just a hair. Nothing. Maybe it was another dead end, or maybe he knew they were coming and fled. Yet something told him that neither was the case. What was he playing at then?

John nudged the door open a little further with his foot, holding his gun at the ready, in full on soldier mode now. No visible traps. No guards. It was safe to proceed, so he slipped inside, with Sherlock just behind him.

"Oh, Sherlock, you brought your pet doctor along!" Moriarty's voice sang from somewhere above them. "How sweet. Really, I thought you knew better by now. Ah, but look at that lovely ring on his finger," he said, referring to the new engagement ring that Sherlock had gotten for John. "Very romantic, the two of you, I must say. I'm disappointed you didn't buy me any jewelry. You do know how fond I am of diamonds."

Both John and Sherlock's arms had immediately raised high, holding their guns and sweeping the room, but neither couldn't see where the consulting criminal was hiding. His voice echoed around the empty building, making it impossible to locate an origin. They separated slightly and slowly spun, keeping sharp eyes out for their target, though Sherlock hoped that John would spot him first with his superior aim. "So sorry, Jim. There was only so much in my budget." He looked up at the rafters above. They were large enough for him to hide on top of if he was lying down, which would make it even harder to get a shot off on him.

"Mmm, you're getting warmer you two," Moriarty's voice purred. "But I doubt you can find me."

John grimaced, already frustrated with this game. "Damn it, Moriarty, stop playing around."

There was laughter that reverberated through the old warehouse. "Oh, Johnny, you know playing is my favourite thing to do! How's the leg? I do love the cane. Nice touch. Sophisticated. Very...dashing."

Sherlock ignored the guilt that flashed inside him at the mention of John's cane, instead focusing on the anger of him rubbing it in. He gave a strained smirk. "You have more fun with this than I do." At this point the best thing they could do was try to keep him talking, giving them more opportunity to try to find where he was.

"Of course. What else is there to do? Life is so utterly boring." Moriarty paused for a moment, and when he spoke again, there was an obvious smile in his voice. "You won't find me by the way. I'm just like lightning. Never in the same place twice." Sherlock's brows drew together at the comment, but then he smoothed them back out, leaving his face impassive. Was he moving around? He couldn't hear anything.

John was not as good at keeping his annoyance to himself, and scowled. "What do you want, Moriarty? Why did you bother bringing us here? Just to annoy us?"

"Oh, well, nooo," Moriarty purred. "I have a motive, of course, or I never would have let the hint drop that I was hanging around. You're so impatient, Johnny boy!" Sherlock had perked his ears, listening, and thought he could hear some shuffling. He met John's eye, and pointed him in the right direction with just a look, as Moriarty continued speaking. The blonde nodded, watching carefully.

"I'm tired of you two hiding from me. I want you out in the open, Sherly, back at Baker Street, preferably, so I know just where to get at you. Because in a few minutes, you won't have a place to hide anyway." He tutted. "Pity you brought John along, though. The explosion surely would have buried him in that little safehouse, and seeing your reaction as they dragged his body out of the rubble would have been such fun!"

Now, Sherlock couldn't help but lose his cool, when he thought about how close he'd come to not having brought John with him, and his eyes widened. To think that his trying to keep John safe would have gotten him killed anyway. He took a slow breath, and his voice was low, as he tried to remind himself that John was there, and he was safe. Well, safer. "Always with the explosives. And I suppose you have two detonators, just in case?"

There was low chuckle. "You know me so well."

Suddenly Sherlock remembered the chemicals still in the safehouse from the experiments he'd been doing. If they were to catch fire, the explosion would be much more violent. "If we were to return to Baker Street willingly, would that stop you from blowing up the club?"

Moriarty sighed. "How boring," he said. "Always on the side of the angels, aren't you, Sherlock? No, that would not stop me. See, I'm blowing up the club either way. Should be a good show, I think. I do hope big brother makes it out all right. Such a sweet guy."

Sherlock didn't move a muscle, not even to look at John who was now staring at him in horror. He had already shown his hand (or rather his heart) too much in this encounter, and he wasn't going to let on the fear that he had for his brother's safety. Much as he could be a right pain in the arse, he couldn't deny that deep down he cared, and he didn't know what he would have done all this time without him. He hadn't seen Mycroft that day in the club, so he didn't know if he was there or off being the government somewhere, but he sincerely hoped it was the latter. But in keeping to his stoic exterior, he just gave a shrug. "Mycroft can take care of himself. He's always prepared for things like this."

"We'll soon see how well," Moriarty said, and Sherlock could hear the smirk in his voice. It was then that John was finally able to pin-point the voice, and spun, firing instantly.

"Ohhh, very good!" Moriarty exclaimed. "Close, but you missed me~! I do admire your skill with a gun. Reminds me of Sebby sometimes." John growled softly, thoroughly pissed that he hadn't landed the shot, as he knew that it was likely the only one he was going to get. "Well, good luck to big brother Mycroft. I suggest you call the police and the fire brigade right about...now."

A soft clicking sound echoed faintly around the room, but nothing followed. They were too far to hear the explosion, but there was no doubt that it had happened. "And with that, my work here is done. It's been smashing, boys! We must do this again sometime...soon." Footsteps scuffed across the rafters and faded away.

Sherlock knew that Moriarty was done with them for the time being, and so stowed his gun away to grab his phone instead, dialing Lestrade, and dragging John out of the building. "The Diogenes Club. Bring the fire brigade. NOW!" he shouted into the receiver before Lestrade could say anything, as they dashed back towards the club.
Oh Jim, you're always such a devious little thing. ;]

So, this chapter was on time this week, thankfully lol. And...well, I really don't know what else to say because I don't have any news to report. Hm...Well, this is a short AN.

I guess we'll skip to the end then! Please don't forget to follow sxs-fanfics on tumblr for updates. Check out MashingButtons on YouTube (we haven't updated in a while sorry :/ my brother is taking too long to edit things -_- ) And now for shout outs!!

:iconcrackersthegiraffe: :iconcaptainsparkleships:

Thanks so much my darlings! I'll see you next week with another chapter :D

SailorXStar as Sherlock
Kakurenbo as John

Sherlock and related character names belong to the BBC, Moftiss, and Sir ACD
Story belongs to SXS and Kakurenbo

Chapter 7: sailorxstar.deviantart.com/art… ~ Chapter 8: You're here! ~ Chapter 9: sailorxstar.deviantart.com/art…
© 2014 - 2024 SailorXStar
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