A/N: It took longer than I'd expected but here it is – the sequel for 'The Sign of the Four'! (grins) Hooray?

WARNINGS: CROSSOVER, violence, death, gore, language, adult themes… You know, the usual lot. (smirks)

DISCLAIMER: Please…! If I DID own anything of 'CM' or 'Sherlock' you'd see me floating on the sky with joy like a helium ball.

Awkay… (takes a deep breath) This is totally the scariest part for me, so let's cut the chase before I change my mind. (chuckles) I REALLY hope that you'll enjoy the ride!

The Valley of Fear

The Games Begin

It was strange to the BAU-team how fast and slow two years had passed them by. Two endless years full of tears and joy. Full of life and death.

Approaching a all too familiar grave Jennifer Jareau found her chest almost unbearably tight from memories. After a lot of practice there was barely any limp in her steps. Even now, when the days of past wanted to swallow her up, she managed to feel a hint of pride for that.

Pausing before the grave JJ swallowed thickly upon discovering that she wasn't the only one who'd visited. Penelope Garcia had left behind a rather large bouquet of colorful flowers. David Rossi and Aaron Hotchner had both lit up a candle. Derek Morgan had left no traces of his visit but she could practically still feel his presence.

Struggling furiously against the stinging in her eyes she knelt, placing the white lilies she'd just bought to the ground along with a card Henry had made.

'Hi, uncle Spencer. I miss you.'

JJ cleared her throat, wondering where to begin. "Hi, Spence. It's… It's been two years, to date. But… Somehow I have a feeling that you already knew." She gulped once more and wiped her eyes although it didn't ease the formation of moisture at all. "This… This is my second case since my maternity leave, and I was absolutely terrified to leave Sandra and Henry. And Will, too. I'm… not sure if the therapy is enough for us anymore." She sighed, focusing her eyes on the things left down below. "Rossi's dating someone over twenty years younger. Did he tell you that? Well, at least he isn't lonely anymore. Hotch is getting married to Beth soon. Have you noticed how much better his speech has gotten? Words only fail him when he's tired." Her fingers brushed the flowers Penelope left behind, careful not to damage them. "Garcia's… had it rough. Especially since losing Lily. She broke up with Kevin again and dyed her hair purple. Although I'm pretty sure that you know more about all that than I do. She talks to you, I can tell. And Morgan… He's so angry, Spence. Especially after what happened to Desiree. He's been trying to drive us away but we're not letting him. We're not going to lose another member of this family. We already lost you and let Prentiss go."

JJ sank so deep into her thoughts that she jumped upon hearing her cell phone ring. She frowned at the sight of Aaron Hotchner's number. "What is it?" She sounded harsher than she intended. Hadn't they agreed on not taking any cases today?

"Something's come up." No greetings, no pleasantries. "How fast do you think you can get to the bureau?"

JJ knew immediately what this meant. Cold filled her body, spreading through her veins. What little there was left of Sebastian Moran's web had come out again, after two years of complete silence. "I'll be there in a few minutes." She hung up without anything further, focusing on the name engraved to the stone once more.

Spencer Andrew Reid

Her eyes watered while she balled her fists, her jaw tightening painfully for a moment. "I miss you, too. And I'll do whatever it takes to make sure that those who took you away will pay. I promise." She brushed the stone with a tender hand before turning around sharply and beginning to walk away, her legs heavy and a ton's weight sitting on her shoulders.

Upon leaving JJ had no idea of the familiar, pain filled eyes observing her. Guarding her. Wind caressed the long, black jacket as the person left as well, headed towards the opposite direction. Spencer Reid disappeared like the ghost that he was supposed to be, determined to finish his own task.

Since Spencer's death Derek Morgan had spent all the time he could on trying to track down those responsible. Most of the time he slammed right at a dead end. Like someone had been blocking his path, trying to keep him from reaching his goal. Today that someone had failed.

Because he was staring at pictures a very old friend from the police sent him, taken from a rather fresh crime scene. A whole family butchered. A father, a mother and their two children. The mother had been one of Moriarty's snipers until she fell in love and ended up pregnant. She'd been allowed to live because she swore eternal silence. A few days ealier she broke that promise when she was interrogated on the murder of a reporter who'd been investigating Moran's web.

The day before she'd been forced to watch her whole family being killed until, after she'd most likely begged for the relief for hours, she'd been murdered as well.

"This is the first proper clue of Moran's legacy we've managed to get our hands on", Aaron stated, his eyes even harder and darker than usual. There wasn't a trace of stutter, of weakness. The man's gaze swept over the group gathered into the briefing room. "If you want to sit this one out it's only understandable. This is completely unofficial. We're breaking several protocols. If Strauss ever finds out it may have severe repercussions on our careers. So if you want to go home…"

Derek snorted. "Are you kidding me? They… took Reid away. I'm willing to do whatever it takes to stop them."

Aaron nodded, looking at the rest of them. "Do you all agree?"

David Rossi, JJ and Penelope Garcia all nodded determinedly. This was for their Spencer Reid. For their resident genius. Of course they'd do whatever they could to ensure that justice would be served.

Aaron nodded, appearing genuinely touched. "Alright. Then let's go. We've been promised an hour so we need to use it well."

What the group in America couldn't possibly know was that Interpol was also still after what was left of Sebastian Moran's legacy. And there was one agent who'd offered herself to lead the department the job was assigned to. Offered, despite the fact that she now had late Elle Greenaway's son Robbie to raise and look after.

Emily Prentiss had long since sworn that she'd do whatever was under her power to make sure that those who killed Spencer, Elle and so many other people would pay. But still her heart hammered painfully fast while she sped through a thick and hopelessly dark Irish forest, cold sweat lingering on her forehead. The role of a mother didn't suit her job at all.

A small crack made her freeze, adrenaline spiking high in her burning veins. Each and every muscle in her body stiffened with anticipation. Her ears sharpened, determined to catch even the smallest of all sounds. And then she saw.

There was a young man, lay on the forest floor. Pale, eyes closed, greasy dark brown hair plastered againts his skin. He couldn't be older than twenty-one. Far too young to lay dead in a pool of his own blood. The man, however, wasn't alone.

Captain Dr. John Watson straightened, his unreadable eyes never weavering from the deceased. Those were eyes that'd seen far too much death and heartbreak. The eyes of a man who was still in a war.

Emily swallowed, feeling colder than she should've. Despite how many people she'd seen die it never got any easier. "Is he…?"

John nodded stiffly. "He knew that we were coming. He was preparing an ambush for us." There was one gun on the forest floor and another in the former army doctor's eerily steady hand. The evidence spoke loudly which one had been faster.

Emily sighed. This kid had been the head of Moriarty's web in Dublin. This should've been a victory yet didn't feel like one. They both hated when they were this young. "I'll call and announce it."

Two hours later, after all explanations had been delivered and the scene had been cleared, the pair sat in a black car on their way towards the airport.

There Emily finally took the risk of glancing towards her companion. John's face held the expression of a stone hard military man. Only a careful eye was able to spot the true emotions lingering in those eyes.

When John called her a month or so after she began her own work it took Emily a long while to understand why the man wanted to be involved. She took him in gladly nonetheless and it wasn't very hard to convince those in charge that a former soldier who had extensive knowledge on James Moriarty and Sebastian Moran was a valuable consultant. When he started participating in fieldwork they frowned yet approved. Still Emily couldn't understand why this man who had to have his hands full with Sherlock would choose a path like this. Then she asked. She'd never forget the look in his eyes when he answered.

/ "They stole my family. I lost him to them once, too, but somehow managed to get him back. I'm not going to lose him again." /

"Do you think that he knows what you're up to?" she inquired, wanting to cut the heavy silence. Seeing John's confusion she clarified. "Sherlock. Do you think he knows that you're here, working with me?"

John focused on the landscape spreading outside the car. The man's jawline tightened. "A while ago I would've said yes. But now… I'm not sure." There was a brief pause. "He doesn't take as many cases anymore yet he keeps… disappearing. And there are no body parts laying around. He's found something that occupies him."

Emily frowned. Somehow that didn't sound promising. "Do you think it's something dangerous?"

John took a deep breath, his eyes darkening still. "I don't know." A new pause. "Yes."

The rather small, startlingly normal looking house was completely dark as the BAU team entered, processing every bit of evidence and information they managed to get. A unfinished dinner. Forgotten toys on the floor. A book that'd fallen to the living room floor, blood splatters staining it.

Evidence of several unfinished lives.

David Rossi swallowed thickly. This was never his favorite part. "So…", he breathed out. "Let's get to work."

The others agreed numbly, soundlessly. What else were they supposed to do? Unofficial or not this was their job, this time even more than that.

For some reason it was the study that called out to David. He walked there with slow, nearly reluctant steps, looking around with the emotionless eyes of a professional. Taking in whatever little information he could find.

Whichever of Moran's still standing lackeys had finished the job had been careful not to leave any traces. The desk was empty. The computer was practically destroyed. David toyed with wondering if Penelope would be able to do anything about it.

Just then he frowned as he noticed something on the floor. Droplets of blood, leading towards the room's window. There'd been signs of struggle all over the parents' bodies. Could it be that the killer's blood had been drawn?

So focused on following the trail David was that he didn't notice the ominous shadow lingering far too close. Didn't sense the threat. Fortunately someone else did.

All of a sudden there was a voice coming from his earpiece. A familiar voice. A impossible voice. "Duck right now!"

That voice alone was almost enough to send David to his knees. His eyes widened while he indeed ducked, his heart beating a million miles per hour. "What…?!"

He saw a flash of movement. A brief glimpse of light shining on metal. A blink later the sound of a bullet piercing glass came, followed by a thud as a body hit the floor. David's heart hammered madly when he watched the pool of blood beginning to form.

He hadn't noticed…

Hadn't even sensed…

If it wasn't for the person who warned him…

"Dave!" Aaron Hotchner's voice was tight and loaded. "What's going on? We heard a thud. Are you alright?"

David shook his head, dazed. Adrenaline was bringing up a storm in his veins. "Yeah, yeah. I'm alright." He spun around, only then remembering the shooter. "But who…?!" All words froze into his throat.

There, on the rooftop of a nearby block of flats, stood what looked like an angel of death and revenge. A long, black jacket billowed in the wind, along with slightly overgrown black hair. The gun was still in the shooter's eerily steady hold, in a fist that was clenched so tightly that it must've hurt. It was hard to tell from such a distance but there seemed to be scars marring the man's unhealthily pale skin. So familiar, yet unrecognizeable.

An angel indeed. Because he couldn't really be seeing the person he thought was before him. That man had been dead and buried for two years.

David's heart skipped a beat. Perhaps two. All breath was struck from his lungs as he stumbled a single step forward, color draining from his face. "Reid…?"

That voice was in his earpiece again. The hand that'd made its way to the shooter's matching one seemed to be trembling. "I'm so sorry." With that the ghost made his way to the furthest possible edge David could see, the jacket flapping like a war flag, and disappeared.

Like nothing but a trick of his imagination.

Having completed the fire escape safely and once he'd managed to dash a safe distance away Spencer leaned heavily against a wall, his heart thumping so madly that he feared it might burst. His eyes stung hellishly and blurred for a moment. Longing clawed his whole body.

So close… He'd been so close…

Swallowing thickly he moved his trembling hand to his earpiece. "Bishop's been taken care of", he announced in a voice he couldn't recognize. Sounds of sirens were approaching. He stiffened, adrenaline and something beyond still running through. "I… may have been compromised. Possible visual contact. Over."

There was a long, heavy silence. One that lasted for several seconds. "Retreat. You will receive further instructions shortly. Over."

Then, as quickly as possible, the connection was broken. Spencer stood absolutely still for several seconds, waiting for the sirens to fade away. As he left his steps were stiff, the faintest trace of a limp barely visible.

Walking away knowing that his family was only minutes away was definitely one of the hardest things he'd ever done but he didn't really have any choice, not yet. And so he vahished all over again. Wishing from the bottom of his heart that when the time of return would come he'd be forgiven.

In another country a cell phone bleeped. A pair of stormy eyes glanced around cautiously before Sherlock Holmes opened the message. His eyes flashed at the words.

'Bishop fell.

Another game starts tonight.

M.H.'

Good. Very good. They were one step closer to having this finished, now.

All of a sudden Sherlock sensed that he was being watched.

The furious, feverish beat of the night club seemed to get a hold of Sherlock as well when he turned his head to meet a pair of midnight black eyes. There, on the opposite side of the massive room, stood a woman of his age with long, fire red hair and a tiny black dress that left quite little to be imagined. The ice cold smirk on her lips was, however, what spoke the loudest. She toyed with her cell phone and in a few seconds he received a new text message.

'You've been following me around for a while, now. I must admit that I'm quite flattered by the attention. Especially since rumor has it that you call me a Queen. So why don't you come and get me?'

'Don't keep a lady waiting' she mouthed, her lips painted with blood red. She gave him a one more glance that measured him up from head to toe. Then turned around and walked away, a far from subtle sway on her hips. Sherlock stared at her for a few more moments before making up his mind and following, his steps slow and full of confidence. His hand never straying far from the gun sitting on his hip.

He walked out and vanished as well.

TBC, OR NOT?

A/N: And thus begins our sequel.

Dang, now that's a lot of determined people after Moran's web! Now if only they'd work together… 'Wonder where all of this is going to lead…?

So, folks, the choice is in your hands now! What's the verdict? Should this continue – or be demolished right at the beginning? PLEASE, do let me know! Starting out a new story is always insanely unnerving so hearing from ya would feel amazing. (offers some muffins in hopes of them coaxing you)

In any case, thank you so much for reading!

Until next time, whichever project that may be with!

Take care!

mudkipz: Gosh, that's gotta be one of the most amazing compliments I've ever received! (beams, and hugs) You just made me feel all warm and fuzzy.

Who knows, maybe you'll find your way to this sequel and enjoy this one, too…?

Massive thank yous for the amazing review!

Tabby: Oh dear…! (gasps) You just succeeded in making me beam with joy, ya know? So thank you! (glomps) It means a lot that you think so highly of my talents.

'Hope you'll find this sequeal and perhaps enjoy this one as well.

Monumental thank yous for the heartwarming review!