(The picture above is what Sherlock and John look like. Have fun Nerdlings!)

~Sherlock

"Bored." I mumbled as I tossed John's pistol from hand to hand while examining it. "No bullets!" I groaned as I threw it back onto the coffee table in dissapointment. "For this exact reason, you keep trying to shoot the bloody wall!" John took the gun and tucked it in the waistband of his jeans and covered it up with his beige knit sweater that Mrs. Hudson gave him for Christmas two years ago. Two years ago, I thought with a twinge of guilt. Those were the two years when I had to fake my death and hide from everyone except Mycroft and a handful of other people. It was also when Moriarty shot himself in the head, killing him instantly. Or so I thought. Only last month, Moriarty announced that he wasn't dead to the whole world. "Let me guess, thinking about Moriarty again?" John sat down in one of the chairs facing the couch. "What is he planning?" I shot off of the couch and began pacing around the living room, my black trench coat swishing against my black pants. "If I had any idea, I would tell you." John turned on the telly. I switched the channel to the news in hopes for an interesting case. "-we have finally reached a new milestone for medicine history by finding a cure for cancer!" The newsman announced. "I would like to warmly welcome who made this possible, doctor Machiavelli!" The doctor smiles and waved at the camera. I caught a glimpse of his face for a fraction of a second before he turned to face the other man. I quickly sank into my mind palace to find why he seemed familiar. "The cure has been tested and it has been proven safe for people. Right now the cure is returning from London and is starting its deliveries to Dublin." The screen cut to a video of a truck with a red cross symbol on the side driving down the street. I snapped out of my mind palace and darted towards the door while flipping the collar up. "John it's Moriarty, he's doctor Machiavelli." "What?" John scrambled out of his chair and jogged to keep up with me. "How do you- "First of all the name, it's the same name as a famous renaissance author from Italy and his face, he disguised the face well, but what gave him away was the eyes, green contacts are way to obvious." I walked over to the pavement and found a motorbike with the keys still in the ignition and two black helmets. "Perfect." I rubbed my black gloved hands together as I started the motorbike and put on my helmet. I texted Mycroft a quick thank you. "Coming?" I extended the other helmet towards John. "You know me so well." He took the other helmet and sat behind me, his arms wrapped around my waist. "Hang on, I'm going fast." I warned him as the engine roared to life. "Fine by me." John stated through gritted teeth as we sped down the street

~John

"Be careful." I hissed as Sherlock narrowly dodged another bullet from the driver. "Here." I handed Sherlock the gun that I was keeping in my waistband. "No bullets, remember?" Sherlock growled, keeping his eyes trained on the truck driver. "I grabbed some bullets before we left." I took the gun back from him and poured a handful of ammo into it. "There, loaded." I gave the gun back to him. He nodded in a appreciation as he fired off a shot, almost hitting the driver in the arm. Sherlock grumbled quietly to himself as police cars drove up behind us. "Sherlock did you-" "No, you?" "Nope." I frowned as I looked back towards them. I gasped as the motorcycle swerved to avoid another bullet. "What the hell?!?" To my right, there was a yellow taxi that had an Irish guy with neon green hair sticking his head out the window, shouting profanities at us. "Damn." I muttered. I hated when civilians were close during chases like these. It just meant something else that could be used to our disadvantage and more casualties. The driver also spotted the taxi. With a slight grin, he aimed his gun at the driver and made it look like he was trying to shoot me, but missed. "Sherlock!" I shouted as the yellow taxi veered to the right. The police cars behind it crashed into each other and exploded into small balls of fire. Orange flames were now spreading everywhere. "After we stop Moriarty we'll help." Sherlock assured me. I sighed and glanced back at the destroyed vehicle. It drove into a fire hydrant and was now spinning through the air before landing on it's side. I reminded myself that Moriarty was more important at the moment as we picked up speed. The cops also began firing at the truck too. "John, you're a better shot than me. You have to make it, considering otherwise the truck would reach its destination." Sherlock remarked as he handed me the gun. "No pressure." He added hastily. Yeah right, I thought as I took a deep breath to steady my shaking hands. I raised the gun and aimed it at one of the back tires. I squeezed my eyes shut as I fired off two shots. I heard a bang and the screeching of metal. Hesitantly, I cracked one eye open. The car was slowing down. Feeling more confident, I fired my last bullet at the other back tire. Direct hit. The truck skidded to a halt in the middle of the road. Police cars circled around it to prevent the vehicle from escaping. "Told you." Sherlock smirked as he parked the motorcycle behind the circle of cars ad removed his helmet. The last rays of the sun glinted off the shiny black surface, blinding me momentarily. "Thanks." I breathed, the adrenaline pumping through me slowly ebbed away, leaving me slightly exhausted. As Sherlock and I approached the truck, the driver stepped out with a grin. "Hello Sherlock Holmes." I frowned at his huge coat. "Sherlock-" I gestured at his coat. "Why I he wearing a huge coat in the middle of-" I paused as I continued studying him. "Get down!" I shouted. The man tore open his coat, revealing three packages of C4 strapped to his chest. "I almost forgot to tell you," he chuckled as he started the timer. "You're too late." Realizing not everyone could get away fast enough, I charged towards the man and tore the C4 off of his chest. I had just enough time to shove him away and wrap my body around the explosives just before they detonated. There was nothing else I could do, I reminded myself. Except I could've thrown it, I realized. Quickly, I threw the explosives as hard as I could into the air. There was a loud bang which left my ears ringing, and a bright white light filled my vision.

~Sherlock

"John!" I shouted as he tore away from where he stood frozen moments before and tackled the suicide bomber to the ground. I tried to run towards him, but Lestrade held me back by pinning my arms behind my back. "Sherlock, it's too late." He whispered gently in my ear. "No!" I wrenched my arms free from his grasp and made my way towards John again. I didn't get there fast enough. He had shoved the guy who strapped the bombs to his chest away as he removed the explosives and wrapped his body around them. There was a blinding white light that left me blind for a couple of seconds. The force of the explosion knocked me off my feet, causing me to collide with Lestrade. "John?" I whispered as I quickly stood up and approached where he last was. My heart was pounding in my ears. Please be okay, please be okay, I chanted in my mind. I sighed in slight relief when I spotted John's body. At least I could try to help. "How could you survive?" I asked myself as I rushed over and knelt down by John. He had a medium sized burn mark on his chest and a large, bleeding cut that went from his cheek to his jaw. "Wake up John!" I begged him as I lightly slapped his face. "Please wake up." I pleaded. "Sherlock?" John moaned, his eyes still shut. He cringed as he moved up to a sitting position. "How many fingers am I holding up?" I put up three fingers in front of John's face. "Six-wait, three." He shook his head as he opened his eyes. I held his chin to look into his caramel brown eyes. "No concussion-" "I'm fine." John protested quietly as he gently removed my hand. I reluctantly stepped back from him and let the paramedics treat his burn and cut. "By the way, how did you survive?" I ran through all the possibilities in my head. "I threw the bombs in the air." John shrugged, then winced in pain as the medics removed John's sweater and shirt. They dabbed balm on his chest and stitched the cut, then left, leaving a neon orange blanket wrapped around his shoulders and a bottle of prescription medicine for the burn. "I'm not in shock." John grumbled as he wadded the blanket up. "We need to go." I reminded him gingerly. "I think I know what he means by 'it's too late'." I glanced over in the bombers direction. He was being escorted a police car by Anderson and Lestrade. "The 'cure' has already been delivered to other hospitals, including this one." "How?" John gasped. I opened the truck that was supposed to be bringing the cure for cancer, but instead there was vials of colored water. "This was just a distraction..." I trailed off, realizing how stupid I was to not see that before. "Does the fake cancer cure kill people?" John frowned as he sat on the edge of the truck. "I don't know...I hate not knowing." I strode back over to the motorcycle we used to get here. "Shall we investigate?" I tossed John his helmet. "How was there conveniently a motorcycle with two helmets near us?" He put the helmet on and climbed on to sit in the back. "I told Mycroft I needed something quick for you and I so he had someone drive this here." I put my own helmet on as John wrapped his arms around my waist. "Where to first?" I turned over my shoulder to look at John. "We could check on the people from the taxi that we saw earlier." He shrugged. I nodded and accelerated off down the street.

~John

"I think I see them!" I pointed to three people that were crouched behind the taxi. Sherlock parked the motorcycle and hopped off. I did the same. "Wait-is that what the cure does to people?" I gestured towards a large group of shambling, gray faced people that were breaking into cars and flats for no apparent reason. "Apparently so." Sherlock sighed as he removed his helmet. I took mine off too and placed it on top of the seat. "We need to go. Now!" The Irish man with neon green hair that I saw earlier commanded the others as he ran away from the taxi. The other two men hesitated slightly before following. Suddenly, the taxi they used to be hiding behind exploded, leaking orange fire onto one of the flats. "I'll go check on the burning flat, make sure the other people are okay!" Sherlock jogged to the burning flat and broke the door down. I cautiously approached the three men. "Hello?" I examined the three of them, but they were all unconscious and the Irish man had a broken arm. "You know them?" Sherlock panted. His face was covered in ash and the ends of his black curly hair were singed. I shook my head no. "They do seem kind of familiar...we should take them to the flat to take care of them, considering none of the hospitals are safe anymore." I hoisted the man with faded pink hair up and draped him over my shoulder. Sherlock took the other two and put one over each shoulder. I was careful to not break the Irish guy's arm further as we jogged back to where the motorcycle was. Lester a de's car was waiting for us. "Sherlock-" He shot a curious look at the people on our shoulders. "Bad timing?" "Yeah." I grunted as I shifted the man to the other shoulder. "Hop in, I'll take you home." Sherlock sat in the passenger seat. "Good luck." He mouthed as he closed the door. Great, I had to sit with three unconscious, injured people in the backseat.