I'm sorry I haven't updated in so long! I'm making my friends' dresses for an upcoming dance, trying to catch up in some classes, and getting ready for a ton of special occasions.

Did everyone else see The Abominable Bride? If you want, I can do a bonus chapter where the characters watch that. Though it will take some time.

To answer Twinborn's question, I will be including most of season 2 and bits of season 1, though season 3 reactions will be kind of limited. It's not smart to show people the future. I'm also really glad you enjoy this so much.

From now on I will be mentioning Phil, Park and Paul less. They will still be there, just in smaller amounts.

For those of you who are interested, the sequel to Reichenbach Misunderstandings, Reichenbach Redemption, is up. I haven't been updating as often as I should, so don't expect too much from that right now.

As usual, I own nothing.

Enjoy!

"Alright, come on you two," Phil said with a smile. She stood, pulling Park and Paul onto their feet.

"What's going on?" Paul asked as she shook off Phil's hand.

"People are finally starting to get sick of us, so we're going to finish watching this from the projection room," Phil announced.

"Took them long enough," Park smirked.

"But, but...I need to see what happens next," Paul whined.

"Don't worry. You will."

Park and Phil linked arms with their reluctant companion, "From the projection room."

Phil tossed the remote to John, then she and Park dragged Paul out the door.

The audience exchanged glances, then shrugged as John hit the play button.

NIGHT TIME. 221B. Both Sherlock and John are in their coats because the windows still haven't been replaced. Sherlock is sitting in his armchair with his feet up on the seat and his arms folded tightly around him, trying to conserve heat. The pink phone is on the arm of the chair. John is sitting at the dining table, typing on his laptop. The TV is on and a Jerry Springer/Jeremy Kyle-type show is playing. As the audience boos noisily, Sherlock yells indignantly at the telly.

SHERLOCK: No, no, no! Of course he's not the boy's father! (He gestures at the screen.)Look at the turn-ups on his jeans!

"That's really what he does when he doesn't have a case?" Anderson asked incredulously.

Sally grumbled, "I'm not even that surprised."

Anderson frowned to himself, "How are you supposed to tell parentage by clothing, anyway?!"

"Incredible," Irene muttered at the observation.

(Sighing, he folds his arms again. John, who has looked round to see what Sherlock is protesting about, gets back to his typing.)

JOHN: Knew it was dangerous.

The audience, save for John and Mycroft, looked tense and confused, still in edge because of the recent dangerous exploits of Sherlock Holmes and John Watson.

SHERLOCK: Hmm?

JOHN: Getting you into crap telly.

Everyone released a sigh of release hey hadn't realized they'd been holding. A few nervous laughs were mixed in with the simultaneous exhale.

SHERLOCK: Hmm. Not a patch on Connie Prince.

JOHN: Have you given Mycroft the memory stick yet?

SHERLOCK: Yep. He was over the moon. Threatened me with a knighthood – again.

"'Threatened with the knighthood'?! And what does he mean 'again'?" Lestrade sputtered.

Anderson and Sally exchanged horrified looks at the thought of being forced to address the freak as Sir Sherlock Holmes.

Mycroft was caught between the urge to frown at Sherlock and smirk at everyone else. His little brother was, he had to admit, a good liar.

JOHN: You know, I'm still waiting.

SHERLOCK: Hmm?

JOHN: For you to admit that a little knowledge of the solar system and you'd have cleared up the fake painting a lot quicker.

Lestrade chuckled to himself.

SHERLOCK: Didn't do you any good, did it?

JOHN: No, but I'm not the world's only consulting detective.

SHERLOCK (smiling): True.

Sally and Anderson took in the image of Sherlock smiling with an awkward uncertainty.

(John has closed the lid of his laptop and now stands up.)

JOHN: I won't be in for tea. I'm going to Sarah's. There's still some of that risotto left in the fridge.

In the projection room, Paul frowned and muttered to herself, "Weird British people have specific time for tea?"

Mary frowned a little at the mention of Sarah and rested her head on John's shoulder. She smiled as John pressed a kiss against her blonde hair.

SHERLOCK (his eyes still fixed on the TV): Mm!

(John stops at the door.)

JOHN: Uh, milk. We need milk.

SHERLOCK: I'll get some.

"Really?!" Almost everyone asked in disbelief.

JOHN (turning back with a look of disbelief on his face): Really?!

SHERLOCK: Really.

JOHN: And some beans, then?

SHERLOCK (still not looking away from the TV): Mmm.

"Wow," Molly muttered as everyone else stared at Sherlock's image in disbelief.

(John hesitates, still surprised, but then nods and walks away. Sherlock continues to gaze at the TV until he hears the downstairs door open and close, then he picks up his computer notebook from where it was tucked down beside him. Putting it on his lap and opening the lid, he stares at the message box on The Science of Deduction website before starting to type.

"Naturally, he had other plans," Lestrade sighed, shaking his head at the man who had given him most of his grey hair.

Found. The Bruce-Partington plans. Please collect.

Mycroft allowed his eyes to roll in a most dapper fashion, "Oh Sherlock, you idiot."

Everyone else looked at him like he was insane.

He lifts his eyes in thought for a moment, then quirks a small smile before returning to his typing.

The Pool. Midnight.

He sends the message, then closes the lid, gazing thoughtfully into the distance.)

SWIMMING POOL. Sherlock opens a door leading into the area surrounding an indoor swimming pool. The lights are on but there is nobody visible in the area. Somewhere between Baker Street and here, he has taken off his Coat and is just wearing his suit, so presumably the heating is on as well. He walks slowly towards the shallow end of the pool, probably very aware that the upper gallery where people sit and watch the swimmers is still in darkness. He stops at the edge of the pool and turns, trying to see up into the viewing gallery. Finally he turns towards the pool again, raising one hand and holding up the memory stick.

John gulped, well aware of what was coming. Mary looked over at her boyfriend in concern.

"Sherlock," Lestrade groaned.

Mrs. Hudson ran her aged fingers over the fabric that hid her collar bones, face creased with worry, " Oh dear, that reckless boy."

Everyone else looked back at Mycroft in hopes of gaging his reaction. He kept a detached mask of stoickness, as he had already known about the proceedings at the poolside.

SHERLOCK (loudly): Brought you a little getting-to-know-you present. Oh, that's what it's all been for, hasn't it? All your little puzzles; making me dance – all to distract me from this.

(He gestures with the memory stick, then begins to turn in a slow circle as he waits for a response. When his back is turned to the pool, a door opens halfway down the room. Sherlock looks over his shoulder, still holding the memory stick aloft. And John Watson walks through the door and into the pool area, wrapped snugly in a hooded jacket with his hands tucked into the pockets. He turns and looks at Sherlock as the detective stares back at him in absolute shock.)

"What the-"

In the projection room, Paul looked over at Park and Phil in confusion, " Wait, John's Moriarty?"

Everyone looked over at John, even Mycroft, though his purpose for the glance was far different from anyone else's. While Mycroft looked slightly more concerned than usual and both Anderson and Sally looked suspicious, everyone else looked blindsided by the appearance of John at the poolside.

John looked at Lestrade and the other two Yarders in confusion, "I thought you knew about this?"

"No, someone else took care of it," Lestrade replied, still shocked by the unforeseen turn of events.

"Oh, come on. You can't seriously think I'm Moriarty. After the trial and everything...you think Sherlock and I would still be friends if I was Moriarty?" John pointed out to the police force. They flushed, avoiding his gaze and turning back to the screen.

"Oh," Paul quietly said to herself, having heard John's explaination. Her friends patted her back to show their support.

JOHN: Evening.

(Sherlock's raised hand begins to lower slowly but otherwise he doesn't move, still staring over his shoulder in utter disbelief.)

JOHN: This is a turn-up, isn't it, Sherlock?

SHERLOCK (softly, shocked): John. What the hell ...?

"That's what everyone is thinking," Anderson muttered.

"Shhh!" Molly and Mrs. Hudson shushed him.

JOHN: Bet you never saw this coming.

(Finally Sherlock manages to move, and starts to walk slowly towards the man he had believed to be his friend until now. The shock and bewilderment on his face makes him look about twelve years old. Then, with a look of despair which matches Sherlock's, John takes his hands from his pockets and pulls open his jacket to reveal a bomb strapped to his chest. From somewhere in the upper gallery, a sniper's laser immediately begins to dance over the bomb.)

Everyone in the audience was silent, watching the scene unfold in horror. Mrs. Hudson's hands had lamper over her mouth, Molly had shrunk back into the couch and Mary had burrowed into John's jacket.

John himself had tensed up, eyes trained on the bomb that had once been strapped to his chest. Gunshots echoed in his ears and lights flashed in his peripheral vision, acting as a grim reminder of his time in Afghanistan.

JOHN: What ... would you like me ... to make him say ... next?

(Sherlock continues to step towards him but now he is looking everywhere but at John as he tries to see who else is in the area.)

JOHN (obviously narrating words spoken into an earpiece): Gottle o' geer ... gottle o' geer ... gottle o' geer.

(His voice almost breaks on the last phrase.)

Mary choked on a sob. Despite having been in similar situations before, seeing her John with a sniper trained on him and a bomb strapped to him was torture.

SHERLOCK: Stop it.

JOHN (narrating): Nice touch, this: the pool where little Carl died. I stopped him. (He tries not to cringe as he listens to the next words.) I can stop John Watson too. (He looks down at the laser point on his chest.) Stop his heart.

"Don't you dare," Mary hissed.

"Mary dear, this is all in the past. There's nothing you can do to change it," John gently informed his girlfriend.

She frowned, "That doesn't mean I like it."

SHERLOCK (turning on the spot while he tries to look in all directions): Who are you?

(A door opens at the far end of the pool and a soft male voice with an Irish accent speaks from that direction.)

VOICE: I gave you my number.

All eyes drifted to Molly.

(We get a brief glimpse of a man wearing a suit and tie, but he is currently mostly obscured by a column.)

Paul gasped, pointing at the screen, "Molly's boyfriend! He's Moriarty! Moriarty is gay!"

VOICE (plaintively): I thought you might call.

(Sherlock turns towards the new arrival, who now slowly walks out into the open. It's Jim, Molly's boyfriend. But this isn't the fumble-fingered casually-dressed Londoner who did indeed leave his number for Sherlock in the lab at Bart's; this is a sharply-dressed man with immaculate hair and a murderous look on his face. With his hands in his pockets, he casually begins to stroll alongside the deep end of the pool, heading towards Sherlock and John. All hint of plaintiveness has now gone from his voice.)

"Wait," Irene said, her gaze drifting from the Telly to the petite pathologist. "Are you telling me that you all have been acting like your pathologist is a mousy pushover when she dumped the most dangerous criminal in all of England."

The audience all looked at one another as Molly blushed a deep red. They had never thought about it that way.

In the projection booth, Phil smiled triumphantly, " See? I told you Molly was a total bada-"

JIM: Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket ...

(Sherlock reaches down to his trouser pocket and removes a pistol from it.)

Mrs. Hudson looked so done.

JIM: ... or are you just pleased to see me?

"Is he really flirting?" Anderson asked with a deadpan expression.

"You can't really blame him," Irene allowed the corner of her perfect red lips to curl into a Cheshire grin.

SHERLOCK (raising the pistol and aiming it towards Jim): Both.

"And he's flirting back," Sally muttered exasperatedly.

Irene frowned, "He never paid that luxury to me."

"I guess it's because you were never much of a challenge to his intellect as you were to his emotions," John remarked.

Irene looked slightly offended and just a little impressed at John's sass.

(Jim stops and looks back at him, unafraid.)

JIM: Jim Moriarty. Hi!

(Sherlock tilts his head as he looks more closely at the man. Jim acts as if he needs to remind Sherlock who he is.)

JIM: Jim? Jim from the hospital?

(He begins to walk alongside the deep end again. Sherlock brings up his other hand to support the one aiming the gun. Jim bites his lip as if disappointed.)

JIM: Oh. Did I really make such a fleeting impression? But then, I suppose, that was rather the point.

(He turns to face Sherlock just as the sniper's laser flickers over John's upper chest. Sherlock briefly turns his head towards John, a questioning look on his face.)

JIM (starting to walk again): Don't be silly. Someone else is holding the rifle. I don't like getting my hands dirty.

(He reaches the corner of the pool and stops.)

JIM: I've given you a glimpse, Sherlock, just a teensy glimpse of what I've got going on out there in the big bad world. I'm a specialist, you see ...

(He looks surprised, as if he has only just realised the connection.)

JIM: ... like you!

"Well that's an unnerving comparison," Sally noted.

SHERLOCK: "Dear Jim. Please will you fix it for me to get rid of my lover's nasty sister?"

(Starting to walk forward again, Jim grins as he recognises the TV show and catchphrase that Sherlock is quoting.)

SHERLOCK: "Dear Jim. Please will you fix it for me to disappear to South America?"

JIM (stopping again): Just so.

SHERLOCK: Consulting criminal. (softly) Brilliant.

"Priorities," Anderson mumbled.

JIM (smiling proudly): Isn't it? No-one ever gets to me – and no-one ever will.

SHERLOCK (cocking the pistol): I did.

JIM: You've come the closest. Now you're in my way.

Molly looked down at her lap, crossing her arms and shaking her head, "Naturally."

SHERLOCK: Thank you.

JIM: Didn't mean it as a compliment.

SHERLOCK: Yes you did.

JIM (shrugging): Yeah, okay, I did. But the flirting's over, Sherlock ... (His voice becomes high-pitched and sing-song.) Daddy's had enough now!

"Please tell me I'm not the only one weirded out by that," John exclaimed desperately.

Everyone else, to his content, was nodding their agreement.

(He again starts to stroll closer.)

JIM (back to his normal tone): I've shown you what I can do. I cut loose all those people, all those little problems, even thirty million quid just to get you to come out and play.

(John is starting to feel the strain and closes his eyes briefly. Sherlock's eyes can't help but flicker across to him a couple of times as he tries to keep his focus on the man approaching them.)

Everyone was quiet, but clearly observed Sherlock's regard for his friend.

JIM: So take this as a friendly warning, my dear. Back off.

(He smiles.)

JIM: Although I have loved this – this little game of ours. (He puts on his London accent for a moment.) Playing Jim from I.T. (He switches back to his Irish accent.) Playing gay. Did you like the little touch with the underwear?

"Wait, so he's not gay?" Paul asked.

"I like to think he is," Park replied.

"You and me both," Phil grinned.

They high-fived.

SHERLOCK: People have died.

JIM: That's what people DO!

Everyone jumped at the sudden change of volume.

(He screams the last word furiously, his personality changing in an instant.)

"And this, Dr. Anderson," Mycroft pointed out. "Is an example of what you have so often labeled my brother as. Moriarty is a prime example of a psychopath."

SHERLOCK (softly): I will stop you.

JIM (calmer again): No you won't.

(Sherlock looks across to John.)

SHERLOCK: You all right?

(John deliberately keeps his gaze away from his friend, presumably having been given instructions earlier about not talking to him. Jim walks forward again and reaches his side.)

JIM: You can talk, Johnny-boy. Go ahead.

(Refusing to specifically obey Jim's orders, John meets Sherlock's eyes and nods once. Sherlock takes one hand off the pistol and holds out the memory stick towards Jim.)

"Aren't you a rebellious one," Irene noted, tapping a finger to her lips.

SHERLOCK: Take it.

Everyone groaned at Sherlock's disregard for national security.

JIM: Huh? Oh! That!

(He strolls past John and reaches out for the stick, grinning.)

JIM: The missile plans!

(He takes the stick from Sherlock's fingers and brings it to his mouth, kissing it. Behind him, John is silently murmuring to himself, perhaps trying to keep himself focussed, perhaps winding himself up to take action. Jim lowers the memory stick and looks at it.)

JIM (sing-song): Boring!

(He shakes his head.)

JIM: I could have got them anywhere.

(He nonchalantly tosses the stick into the pool. Seeing his opportunity, John races forward and slams himself up against Jim's back, wrapping one arm around his neck and the other around his chest. Sherlock backs up a step in surprise but keeps the pistol raised and aimed at Jim.)

"John!" Mary yelped.

"Are you crazy?" Lestrade cried.

Everyone's eyes were glued to the screen. The tension hung thickly in the air.

JOHN: Sherlock, run!

(Jim laughs in delight.)

JIM: Good! Very good.

(Sherlock doesn't move, still aiming his gun at Jim's head but now starting to look up a little anxiously, as if wondering what action the hidden sniper might take.)

JOHN (savagely): If your sniper pulls that trigger, Mr Moriarty, then we both go up.

JIM (calmly, to Sherlock): Isn't he sweet? I can see why you like having him around. But then people do get so sentimental about their pets.

"Thanks for that," John muttered, as the others glared at him. He was the only one unaffected by the deadly turn of events.

(Grimacing angrily, John pulls him even closer onto the bomb which is now sandwiched between them. Jim scowls round at him.)

JIM: They're so touchingly loyal. But, oops!

(He grins briefly at John, then looks towards Sherlock.)

JIM: You've rather shown your hand there, Doctor Watson.

(He chuckles as a new laser point appears in the middle of Sherlock's forehead. John stares in horror as Jim looks round at him expectantly. Sherlock, either seeing the edge of the laser beam shining from the gallery or realising what's happening from John's expression, shakes his head slightly.)

The audience gave horrified gasps...

...including Paul, who continued to stuff her face with popcorn. Stress eating, you know?

JIM (sing-song): Gotcha!

(He chuckles as John releases his grip on him and steps back, holding his hands up to signal to the sniper that he won't be trying anything else. Jim glances round at him, then turns back towards Sherlock while brushing his hands down his suit to straighten it. He gestures to it indignantly.)

JIM: Westwood!

(He lowers his hands and stands calmly in front of Sherlock who is still aiming the pistol at his head.)

JIM: D'you know what happens if you don't leave me alone, Sherlock, to you?

SHERLOCK (sounding bored): Oh, let me guess: I get killed.

If they hadn't been so worried, everyone would've face-palmed at Sherlock's nonchalant attitude.

JIM: Kill you? (He grimaces.) N-no, don't be obvious. I mean, I'm gonna kill you anyway some day. I don't wanna rush it, though. I'm saving it up for something special. No-no-no-no-no. If you don't stop prying, I'll burn you.

Everyone was speechless and could simply stare at the screen in awe of the egos of both hero and villain.

(He runs his eyes briefly down Sherlock's body, then meets his eyes again and his voice becomes vicious.)

JIM: I'll burn the heart out of you.

(His face is a snarl as he says the word 'heart' but at the end of the sentence he looks almost regretful.)

SHERLOCK (softly): I have been reliably informed that I don't have one.

Anderson and Sally glanced at each other, throats dry. Everyone in the room who had ever said something of the sort to Sherlock felt the guilt gnawing away at them as they saw how Sherlock was hurt by it.

JIM: But we both know that's not quite true.

(Sherlock blinks involuntarily. Jim looks down, smiling, then shrugs.)

JIM: Well, I'd better be off.

(He nonchalantly looks around, perhaps checking his exit route, before turning back to Sherlock.)

JIM: Well, so nice to have had a proper chat.

(Sherlock raises the pistol higher and extends it closer to Jim's head.)

SHERLOCK: What if I was to shoot you now – right now?

"Yes please," Molly said wearily. "It would've saved us so much trouble."

Everyone except Mycroft looked at Molly in surprise and confusion. Sherlock's elder brother was the only one who knew about her role in Sherlock's 'death'.

JIM (completely unperturbed): Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face.

(He opens his eyes and mouth wide, mimicking surprise, then grins at Sherlock.)

Mary smirked despite her fear, "Put that on a t-shirt."

JIM: 'Cause I'd be surprised, Sherlock; really I would.

(He screws up his nose.)

JIM: And just a teensy bit disappointed. And of course you wouldn't be able to cherish it for very long.

(Slowly he begins to turn away.)

JIM: Ciao, Sherlock Holmes.

(Looking back at Sherlock with some distaste, he walks calmly towards the side door which John came through earlier. Sherlock slowly steps forward to keep him in his sights.)

SHERLOCK: Catch ... you ... later.

(The door opens and Jim's voice can be heard, high-pitched and sing-song.)

JIM: No you won't!

(The door closes. Sherlock doesn't move for a few seconds, his gun still aimed towards the door, then his gaze drifts across to John and he instantly bends, putting the pistol on the floor, then drops to his knees in front of John and starts unfastening the vest to which the bomb is attached.)

Everyone gave relieved sighs at the illusion of safety. Only John knew what was to come.

SHERLOCK: All right?

(John tilts his head back, breathing heavily.)

SHERLOCK (urgently): Are you all right?

"Answer the question, John," Mary said through clenched teeth.

JOHN: Yeah-yeah, I'm fine.

(Having unfastened the vest, Sherlock jumps up and hurries round behind John, starting to pull off the jacket and the bomb vest.)

JOHN: I'm fine.

(Sherlock, also breathing too fast, continues tugging at the jacket and vest.)

JOHN: Sherlock.

(Finally Sherlock manages to roughly strip the jacket and vest off John's arms.)

JOHN: Sh-Sherlock!

(Sherlock bends and skims the items as far away along the floor as he can, while John staggers at the vehemence with which his friend just ripped them off him.)

The room's occupants relaxed further as the bomb skidded away from the pair.

JOHN (softly): Jesus.

(He reaches up and pulls the earpiece from his ear, breathing heavily as delayed shock begins to hit him. Sherlock turns and stares at him for a moment, then hurries back to pick up the pistol before racing towards the door through which Moriarty left. John's knees buckle and he staggers towards the nearest support, the edge of one of the changing cubicles.)

JOHN: Oh, Christ.

(He turns and drops down into a squat, bracing his back against the cubicle's edge as he blows out a long breath and tries to calm himself down. Sherlock comes back in, having apparently seen no sign of Moriarty outside. He starts to pace up and down near John, so hyper and distracted that he doesn't even realise that he is scratching his head with the business end of a loaded and cocked pistol.)

Lestrade's face expressed annoyance, "Please tell me he isn't doing what I think he's doing."

Mrs. Hudson flinched, "When will that boy realize that he needs to be more careful with guns?"

JOHN (breathlessly): Are you okay?

SHERLOCK (quick fire, still pacing and scratching his head with the gun): Me? Yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine. Fine.

"No you're not," Molly pointed out. No one saw reason to point out she was talking to the Telly.

(He turns to John, wide-eyed and breathless.)

SHERLOCK: That, er ... thing that you, er, that you did – that, um ... (he clears his throat) ... you offered to do. That was, um ... good.

"And we're back to the awkward," Mary grinned.

JOHN (staring blankly ahead of himself): I'm glad no-one saw that.

(Sherlock had temporarily lowered his hand long enough not to be risking accidentally shooting himself in the head, although he had terrible jitters as he held the gun down by his side. Now he lifts the gun again as he raises his hand to rub his chin while looking down at John in confusion.)

SHERLOCK: Hmm?

JOHN (still not meeting his eyes): You, ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People might talk.

"Priorities," Mary scolded her boyfriend, hitting his chest lightly.

John shrugged, "It's a coping mechanism."

Mary looked up at him mournfully and snuggled closer.

(Sherlock shrugs.)

SHERLOCK: People do little else.

"That's true," Molly murmured.

(He looks down at John, then grins. John snorts laughter, then leans forward and prepares to stand up. But before he can move, the beam from a sniper's laser begins to dance over his chest. John looks down at it and his face fills with horror.)

"Oh dear!" Mrs. Hudson fretted.

Lestrade groaned, "Don't you two ever get a break?"

"Oh no," Mary pressed a hand to her forhead, anxious for her boyfriend to be out of danger. Despite knowing that he was safe and sound right next to her, watching him in danger was nerve wracking.

Detecting her discomfort, John tightened his arm around his girlfriend's shoulders.

JOHN (anguished): Oh ...

(A door near the deep end of the pool opens and Jim comes through, clapping his hands together and turning to face our heroes.)

Molly flinched.

JIM (cheerfully): Sorry, boys! I'm soooooo changeable!

Lestrade growled at the screen, "Son of a-"

(John grimaces in disbelief. Sherlock keeps his back to Jim, looking up into the gallery to try and judge how many snipers there might be up there. It's becoming clear that there are quite a few because there are at least two laser points hovering over John, and at least three more travelling over Sherlock's body. Jim laughs and spread his arms wide.)

JIM: It is a weakness with me but, to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness.

"Well, he's humble," Lestrade broke the tension before being shushed by everyone else in the room.

(He lowers his hands and puts them in his pockets. Sherlock turns his head and looks down at John, who lifts his own head to meet his gaze.)

JIM: You can't be allowed to continue. You just can't. I would try to convince you but ... (he laughs and his voice becomes sing-song again) ... everything I have to say has already crossed your mind!

(Sherlock, who had looked away from John for a moment, now turns and looks down at him again, his face showing no emotion but his eyes screaming a silent request. John responds instantly with a tiny nod, giving him full permission to do whatever he deems necessary.)

"Am I the only one who finds the nonverbal communication freaky?" Sally asked dryly.

Anderson snorted.

SHERLOCK (turning to face Jim): Probably my answer has crossed yours.

(He raises the pistol and aims it at him. Jim smiles confidently, with no fear in his expression. Slowly Sherlock lowers the pistol downwards until it's pointing directly at the bomb jacket. All three sets of eyes lock onto the jacket, John breathing heavily, Sherlock calm. Jim tilts his head, looking a little anxious for the first time. As Sherlock holds his hand steady, continuing to aim towards the jacket, Jim lifts his head and locks eyes with his nemesis. Sherlock gazes back at him and Jim begins to smile. Sherlock's eyes narrow slightly.)

"And...cliffhanger!" Phil yelled, coming out of seemingly nowhere to pause the scene.

"No!" Almost everyone cried.

John frowned in confusion, "When did you get here?"

"The door right there," Phil pointed over her shoulder. John shrugged, accepting the answer as everyone else silently begged their host to continue the scene and relieve their anticipation.

Instead, Phil knelt next to the DVD player and replaced the disc with a new one. Standing up, she shrugged, "The scene continues in season two. Trust me, I didn't like the wait either."

"No one did!" Park's muffled voice drifted from the projection room.

Since y'all waited for so long, I decided to give you a nice long chapter.

I promise that I'll update sooner.

Thanks for reading!