The origins of this has been on my laptop since series 3 finished so I figured now that I have the whole summer ahead of me it was as good a time as any to start writing it properly. This will be my take on series 4 and takes place from about an hour after series 3 left off. I hope you like it. :)

Standard disclaimer.

"I don't understand," said John taking off his coat as he followed Sherlock into the flat.

"Magnussen was right," spoke Sherlock as he sat down at his desk and booted up one of his many laptops.

John cocked an eyebrow. "About what?"

Sherlock looked up towards John, "you really should have that on a t-shirt."

John scowled, not even an hour ago he thought he had said goodbye to Sherlock for good and now he was back in Baker Street and still being an obnoxious bastard.

"Do you really think it's him though?" asked Mary plopping herself down in John's old armchair. "He did shoot his brains out after all."

John walked towards the window, "and Sherlock Holmes jumped from St. Bart's hospital and I took his rather non-existent pulse as he lay with his head smashed in on the pavement... I honestly wouldn't be surprised if Magnussen walked in right now and pissed in the fireplace."

Sherlock gave John a warning look but turned his attention back to his laptop. "Once you have ruled out the impossible, whatever remains no matter how improbable must be true," said Sherlock simply which didn't really answer Mary's question.

"So you don't think he's dead then?" she pushed further.

"Improbable... but not impossible," said Sherlock finally.

Mary and John gave each other a look, neither of them was too sure as to what to say. After a few moments of awkward silence Mary finally cleared her throat and stood up. "Well, I better be off then," she said.

Sherlock cocked an eyebrow. "There's no need to leave."

"Oh there is," said Mary. "If you two are going to be going around chasing after dead criminals you hardly want a eight and a half month pregnant walrus plodding on behind you now do you?"

Sherlock's lip threatened to curl upwards into a smile but he regained his composure. "I suppose you going into labour whilst we chase down the seemingly immortal consulting criminal would not be the best plan of action."

"I'll drive you home," said John helping his wife into her coat.

"Oh there's no need, I'll just take a cab," said Mary smiling.

"You sure?" asked John. "It's no trouble really I-

Mary leant up and kissed John on the cheek before whispering to him. "No, stay with him. He needs you."

John glanced at Sherlock before turning his attention back to his wife. "Okay," he said softly before kissing her goodbye.

Mary smiled and went towards the door before turning around and saying. "Oh and Sherlock? Please stay away from tall buildings this time, okay?"

Sherlock scoffed. "No promises."

Mary simply grinned before walking out the door and leaving the men to it.

John watched as he wife made her way slowly down the stairs and only when she was out of sight did he turn his attention back to Sherlock.

"Are you okay?" he asked nonchalantly.

"I'm always okay," said Sherlock dismissively.

John grimaced; he wasn't buying it for a second. "It is okay to tell me how you feel Sherlock."

Sherlock glanced up and studied John for a moment before frowning again. "I'm fine," he said in a definite tone.

John sighed through his nose, there was no point trying to talk to Sherlock when he was acting like this. "So then," he began trying to change the subject slightly. "Why now? Why wait three years and come back now?"

Sherlock bit his lip. "I don't know," he admitted finally. "And I don't like not knowing."

John opened his mouth to say something but before he could respond Mycroft entered the room talking on his mobile. He muttered a few choice words under his breath before hanging up and slamming the phone into his pocket. "It would seem we are unable to trace the origins of the video feed," he admitted bitterly.

Sherlock had begun to type away something on his laptop and didn't look up to acknowledge Mycroft. "The government unable to do something? Well there's something that doesn't happen everyday," he said in a mocking tone.

Mycroft's grip on his umbrella tightened at his brother's remark but he gave no other indication the words had effected him. "Well little brother," Mycroft began venomously. "It's beginning to look like you didn't do such a great job after all clearing out Moriarty's network."

Sherlock simply rolled his eyes. "Sometimes the weeds grow back Mycroft."

"Only when they haven't been properly dealt with brother mine."

Sherlock stood up to face his brother and John looked away nervously. Although he's been a friend of Sherlock for years now the tension between the Holmes brothers still made him feel nauseous. He began to wish Mary hadn't left him here alone... He almost laughed at the idea of wanting an assassin in the room to clear the tension.

"You sent me to dismantle Moriarty's global network of criminals. Two years Mycroft, for two years I lied, cheated and conned my way into each and every one of Moriarty's connections before breaking them down. I did my work brother dear. His network was as dead as he was."

"Well after this afternoon, your word doesn't exactly fill me with confidence Sherlock," said Mycroft.

Sherlock simply scoffed and retook his seat at his laptop. "Moriarty is dead, Mycroft."

"For two years so was Sherlock Holmes," replied Mycroft taking his mobile from his pocket again. "Excuse me," said the older Holmes brother as he exited the room talking on his phone once again. Sherlock watched as his brother left the room and sighed heavily as Mycroft closed the door behind him.

John focused on the closed door for a moment before turning his attention back to Sherlock who was running his hands through his hair. "Are you alright?" he asked uncertainly.

"I'm always alright," answered Sherlock dismissively regaining his composure and beginning to type away at his laptop again.

John furrowed his brow and stared at his friend. Admittedly he was in no way as good at deductions as Sherlock but he knew one thing for sure. Sherlock was definitely not alright.

"You know, you never told me exactly what it was you did when you were dead," said John as he went to sit down in his chair.

Sherlock sighed. "Well you didn't elaborate about what you had gotten up to either."

John opened his mouth to respond but Sherlock's phone suddenly buzzed. Sherlock quickly took the phone from his pocket and looked at the message and bit his lip before tossing the phone towards John.

Ready to play?

JM

"Told you so," said Sherlock.

John just raised an eyebrow and gave Sherlock a confused look.

Sherlock smirked knowingly. "The game, John," began Sherlock, "is never over."

John's jaw dropped, the criminal mastermind that had almost destroyed everything Sherlock was, turned all of England against him and caused his best friend to fake his death for two years was seemingly back again and Sherlock thought it was a game? Fuck... Sherlock Holmes never failed to surprise him.

Sherlock's phone buzzed in John's hand. John glanced down at the phone. "Sherlock another text has come through."

Sherlock snatched the phone from John and opened the message; it was a picture message of a large room with long tables. Sherlock furrowed his brow. He knew this room... it was... it was...

Sherlock showed John the photo as he went to enter his Mind Palace to remember where and what the room was.

"Hey," said John. "Isn't this the room you confronted that creepy cabbie in from A Study In Pink?"

Sherlock's eyes snapped open. "Of course!" Sherlock stood up quickly and picked his scarf up from the couch before wrapping it around his neck and putting his coat on quickly. "Come on, we need to head down there now."

Sherlock tore open the door and ran straight into Mycroft who cut Sherlock an angered look. "Excuse me a moment," said the older Holmes brother to whomever he was talking to on the phone. "Sherlock where are you going?"

Sherlock simply thundered down the stairs and ignored his brother. "Sherlock!" snapped Mycroft as John slipped past him and followed the consulting detective down the stairs.

"London is under serious threat and you're just going to run off and not inform me of where you're going?"

Sherlock stopped at the bottom of the stairs and tilted his head upwards to look at Mycroft. "Last time London's terror alert was critical we played Operation, don't act surprised Mycroft. The emotion doesn't suit you."

Mycroft bit his lip. "Just... just be careful okay?"

Both John and Sherlock stared up at Mycroft and Sherlock was reminded of what his older brother had told him on Christmas Day, for some reason Sherlock Holmes the king of comebacks the man who would outlive God trying to get the last word was left speechless...

John licked his lip nervously and walked towards the door, the Holmes brothers were yet to break eye contact however. Finally Sherlock simply nodded, "you have my word, Mycroft," he said before following John and walking out on to Baker Street.

Sherlock wrapped his coat around himself as the cold January air hit him. He walked out to the edge of the pavement and hailed a cab as John closed the door or 221 Baker Street.

"That was odd," said John as Sherlock cursed as a taxi drove straight by him, ignoring him.

"What was?"

"Mycroft, telling you to be careful."

"A family member telling his sibling to be vigilant in possible dangerous times is hardly out of the ordinary."

"It is if it's the Holmes family," muttered John.

Sherlock smiled as he finally managed to get the attention of a taxi driver who pulled up beside them. "Frankly John I have greater things on my mind then misplaced sentiment from my brother."

Sherlock hopped into the cab and gave the address to the cabbie as John exhaled loudly before jumping into the car himself. "It's just weird is all," concluded John unwilling to drop the topic. "It's just... well Mycroft wouldn't say that unless he really did think you were in danger now would he?"

Sherlock had been busily typing away on his phone but he glanced up at John. "A man who I personally seen kill himself has seemingly returned to London and I spent two years tearing down everything he had spent his entire life building up and perfecting... If I were him, I'd be quite enraged... of course I am in danger John, and frankly so are you and Mary, the baby, Molly, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson and everyone in my life who has ever meant anything to me. This isn't going to be like anything we've ever faced before John, this time the odds are higher and the game is more perilous and Mycroft knows that. We're going to have to remain vigilant."

Sherlock broke the eye contact with John and turned his attention back to his mobile.

"Sherlock..." John began but he was suddenly not sure of what to say.

"If you want to leave I wouldn't blame you," said Sherlock. "This time the game might not end with my death being quite so fake so if you want to go... I, I wouldn't hold it against you. You have a family to think about."

John looked out the window at the busy London high street and took a deep breath before responding. "I'm not leaving you Sherlock," he finally said simply. "Not again, not now. The last time I left you to face Moriarty on your own... well, we both know what happened. I am not abandoning you again."

Sherlock looked up again and narrowed his eyes. "But Mary-

"My wife is an Ex-assassin, I think she is capable of taking care of herself don't you?"

Sherlock opened his mouth to say something but seemed to think better of it and simply smiled. "Thank you," he said before once again turning his attention back to his phone. John smiled weakly at his friend, surely this would turn out okay right? Sherlock had beaten Moriarty before so what was different this time? John took another deep breath and looked out the window once more and thought that if Moriarty was still alive, if he had anything to do about it, he wouldn't be amongst the living for much longer.

Leaving it here for now! Please review/comment! 'Til next time... toodles :)