Disclaimer: Don't own...wish I did

Grey eyes widened as the barrel of the gun was aimed unwaveringly at his chest, the hand holding it as steady as a rock. With almost clinical precision, Sherlock's mind detached itself from the situation he found himself in as he deduced the man standing in front of him.

The dust on the jeans showed he had been sitting on the floor, waiting for his prey to arrive. He had been patient, not fidgeting or moving around. The outline of thigh and calf, the marks on the folds of the material, all this would have been different had he not sat absolutely still, one leg folded underneath him, the other bent so he could rest his forearm against his knee.

The movement of his chest under the black cotton shirt, as he drew in calm measured breaths, was no more than the consulting detective expected. His stance was relaxed and totally at ease with his role.

"How long?" Sherlock asked finally

"Hours. I was here last time you came down; I just chose not to let you know."

"Mrs Hudson?"

"Has no idea I'm here." A small smile broke through. "Even though I came in through her flat."

Glancing around 221C Sherlock said "I didn't even hear you."

The gunman shrugged. "As it should be"

Suddenly, Sherlock grinned.

"John, you're brilliant!"