A/N: The update that should have been posted eons ago.

When John had been called on by Lestrade to help out with the case he had not expected that the other consultant would be there as well and looking by the shocked look and annoyed countenance Ana had,she didn't know as well, though John wondered if it had to do with the fact Anderson, though not etirely unpleasant, was speaking to her. Lestrade for his part seemed done with life and has started with a resigned look to do damage control.

Of what? John doesn't know so he merely stands there in the middle of the crime scene watching whatever it is that is about to happen unfold before his eyes as he thinks about it in a narrative form. Detached.

It had been days since the last time he had wrote something and he was getting bored with the mundane, the world was disintegrating into blacks and whites in his eyes. Even Ana was not an exception and now seeing the bit odd consultant persuading Greg he saw that even he was turning to a dull color, he sighed and turned back to go inside the crimescene and start investigating, hopefully the case would be useful for him.

Sherlock had rushed to the scene after a succesful attempt at breaching the HOLMES security (he begrudged whoever thought of naming that thing) moments before his phone had smoked and his laptop exploded. It had paid that he had eidetic memory as it had made it easy for him to not forget about the details of the case. Upon arriving to the scene he had first saw the forensic Ana and then Lestrade before he had finally chanced upon John.

From a far he had observed how the man's gaze looked so utterly bored, he knew what that felt like, and then when they had a brief moment of eye contact, in that barest of moments he saw it, the flash of disappointment in the other man's eyes and the thought of his opponent thinking so little of him ignited the flames of hatred and rebellion in his blood. It wouldn't do,afterall, if your rival thought of you as weak.

Even if the man was second to him, he was marginally interesting.

And with great fervor, Sherlock strode inside the building and to where John and the crime scene was to start his deductions and formally challenged the other consultant into solving an interesting cold case he had found, if ever this case was less than it was advertised.

To John this whole place was a joke, there was no need for him or Ana to be here; if Greg had merely applied everything he had taught to him. This was a complete waste of his time. If this, simple crime, a mere job done by a desperate and insipid thug, a mere underling who could not even finish the job much less escape out of the crime scene fully. Annoyed and having pure hatred for the blatant stupidity of the yard and the general stupidity of people surrounding him.

"There's 42 stab wounds in different areas, only one that proved to be fatal trhough autopsy, he died of blood lost, obvious from the puddle on the floor, from the apartment nothing is touched except for the vault behind the frame on fireplace, clever actually, there are various hidden panels on this house. If all of you took time to observe before calling me or Ana you would have notice that this place reeks of drugs and prostitution." John says in contempt and glares at the bookshelf.

"Behind this" he reiterates this by thumping on the wooden panel beneath him "is an empty space filled with various drugs, probably the cheap ones, on the 12th step leading to this floor, is where he hides his gun and ammo, stupid place to use actually. There are more to this but I don't really need to go on because I, for one can't handle being with you incompetents"

He dramatically leaves the crime scene only to be stopped by the appearance of the other consultant. His glared softened only because he knew that at least there was more than one imbecile in his immediate vicinity (Greg was part of his group of imbeciles for now).

The man merely raised a brow and said " I'm wondering why you conveniently left out the fact that the idiot who killed that body on the floor is hiding behind the book case?"

"I was leaving it to you" he answered and left, leaving it to the now chaotic and disorganize team to capture the criminal.

He wonders if his perception or gut feeling that something interesting enough would happen to him, to rid him of his ennui was wrong. Because he could feel it in his bones, how easy it would to create some thing devastatingly beautiful and tragic, how he could make people dance for just his amusement.

Of course before he could actually leave the place, the consulting detective, had grabbed his arm and turned him. It is here that John realizes that perhaps he was not wrong afterall and in this man's eyes, he could a see fire, burning so strong, he could see his past and easily enamoured self falling. But not the present him who is merely amused and curious.

And so he decides to make the flames and heat of that fire larger and hotter.

'more dangerous' his mind supplies and he grins, honest to god, grins like wolf that found his prey. Once more John Watson throws caution to the wind, there is a game to be played.

"I could see that you've been wanting to prove something to me, perhaps it is that you're better" he says and so dangerously enters to the man's personal space, the hand is still in his arm clutched tight and so he looks at the man through his eye lashes, to others the sight was coy, provocative even and yet it is neither. It is predatory and everything about dominance and this was a message sent clearly and received by Sherlock.

A challenge and he almost, almost purred in delight. When John had taken him by the neck and pulled him close, breathes intermingling, lips so close but not touching, eyes looking straight at each other.

From a distance and the angle of their bodies one would immediately assume they were kissing. And more so when John let go and Sherlock's flushed cheeks and heavy breathing was to go by.

"Follow my leads and I'll give you a challenge" John said so low and dangerous and purred.

The sight of John Watson's confident strides and back was an image that burned in Sherlock's mind.

The antithesis of everything regarding their friendship and partnership (one still undefined) was their very existence, the very existence of the four people who are connected one way or another.

Hamish is John's antithesis, the former a walking image of dispassionate emphathy, the latter of overflowing emotions just as how Sherlock is Sherrinford's antithesis

Sherlock for his analytical and bordering sociopathic tendencies and Sherrinford for his open-book face, as much as a Holmes could be an open book.

And yet both the Watson's are the antithesis to the Holmes' and yet the two work so perfectly well.

John was curious and wanted and only gave his attention to the interesting ones, the rest was only tolerated and such he got along well with Sherlock, for the other man satisfied his curiosity and filled his boredom.

Hamish is enamoured by Sherrinford's eccentricities and everything about him just as the other is forever captured by the doctor's detached empathy regarding others who did not.

And there was one thing common among the pair of siblings.

Hamish and John craves danger and only the Holmes' could give the kind of danger they need. It was something ingrained in their blood and one they can never deny. Not like they would.

When Mycroft had heard what was happening he wondered how things could escalate so quickly but then Sherlock came to mind and he deleted that thought. He for once had just been in his home relaxing and doing nothing of importance, the unbelievable tension between the Philippine Embassy and MI6 was miraculously at rest, There was a cheesecake upon his arrival (courtesy of Ana) and John had sent the first half of his manuscript (It was keeping him in the edges).

Of course, he should have been better by realizing the cheesecake and the manuscript was an advance sorry gift. Since first; his writer had decided to go and answer to the Philippine Government, second; the Philippine London Embassy's Ambassador had left the place with a mere instructions on how to survive in her vacation (granted it was deserved but still the woman needed to learn tact) and last; he learned all of this 2 minutes after eating the cake and and 15 minutes after reading the manuscript which effectively ruined his peaceful and lovely evening.

His younger brother adding to the mix was just the push he needed to finally take matters into his own hands.

First on his list was alerting his Filipino counterpart; Abram. The man was almost near to the Holmes' genius but his rather imminent laziness and apathy to those who he cares not for hinders him. Despite their tentative friendship (the man was a snake) he is still not fully trusting of his counterpart. For starters the man laughs at every politician,except for one senator judge, that says or does something stupid in his terms, He purposefully plays people for his partial entertainment and willingly sacrifices lives for the greater good. Though that is not to say that he ( Mycroft) himself does not do the latter, in his defense the way man does everything is without malice or benevolence. It was oddly unnerving.

He was roused from his thoughts when the annoyed voice (clearly had been woken by the phone, probably a saturday morning meant to spent sleeping in, played games all night?. still unaware of current situation) of Abram spoke

"What do you need, Mycroft?"

"Good morning, I apologize for disturbing your sleep"

"Apology ignored, get straight to the poiint" Mycroft could hear Abram move away to yawn, glad to at least know that his tentative friend still had manners.

"Ana..." he mused for the correct term to address John knowing that Abram had an imminent dislike of the man "and her colleagues had taken a plane to what I assume help on the first serial killer in the Philippines?"

The silence on the other line made him wonder if he had called to early " I see...thank you for bringing this to my attention be rest assured that I'll contact you later, in the mean time, take a rest for both of our sake"

And then Abram hanged up before Mycroft could say a word edgewise. He sighed and returned his phone to the desk and lamented the lost of his downtime. He went back to his room and did as what was suggested knowing that it was the best he could do right now. Hopefully things wouldn't get out of hand easily.

Sherlock had expected the country to be either ridiculously hot or unnecessarily cold in regards to the weather and he was right, however what he did not expect was being kidnapped (and it was conducted properly) and brought to the Malacañan Palace and was gently dumped in the couch of the Presedential Conference Room located behind the Presedential Office.

It was devoid of personal effects, the only object remotely close to be called personal was the tea set in front of him. It was still mounted on its tray along with plates of different noticed how there were three food ( a Filipino delicacy) that was along with the was a curious sight for him, Then his kidnapper entered the room and Sherlock turned back and watched the man.

Wearing a clothes between casual and formal attire.

He reminded him of Mycroft and he scowled, the man merely cocked a brow and sat on the other chair, the one behind the mahogany desk.

"Welcome to the Philippines" he greeted politely and Sherlock acknowledge by nodding. The man was satisfied and went straight to the point " First, I'm glad you've decided to come and help, if I base it from my informant, the first case of serial killing here, Second I am here to disabuse you of the motion that every filipino is kind and would help you without ulterior motives, it is in human nature to lie, its the nurture that makes the difference in case you find yourself out of depths but don't worry they're kind enough to aliens like you just don't be foolishly trusting" the man said and gestured for Sherlock to take some food " Third, My name is Abram and I'm the Philippine Government when I'm not busy freelancing as the Interpol or SP on a daily basis"

The man was just a tad bit better than Mycroft. Abram was also kind enough to provide him lodgings that gave him convenience along with the information on where John could be found. Thus Sherlock was kind enough to tell him the relationship with his lover was in a dead end.

He left without seeing the man's expression.

Arriving at the location of John's current lodging he observed the house before him. It had been renovated and had an addition of 3 more floors. He deduced that the daughters were the current owners of the house, renovated due to sentiment.

He rang the buzzer and was greeted by the voice of a jet lagged woman.

"Sino to?" (Who's this?)

He regretted not learning the native language before hand

"Who's this?" the woman repeated in english and for unfathomable reason embarrassed as well.

"Sherlock Holmes" he answered politely

"Oh, Come in." she said before the intercom cut off and the door automatically opened. The woman closely resembled the tolerable forensic Ana in a certain angle "hay, Mycroft should have told me you were coming here, I could have prepared some snacks for you. Ana's in her room along with John, just go to the second floor, the first door to the right."

Sherlock followed her instructions and arrived in front of an eerily silent room. Not bothering with knocking he went in and found John instead, the forensic was nowhere in sight.

"Not how I expected" John commented and went back to looking at the files in his disposal, Sherlock went over to him and analyze it with him.

The case had 5 victims the wounds were done randomly. The pictures on the door, show no sign of forced entry. The killer was someone they knew or someone would not suspect of being the killer.

"Have you seen the connection?" John asked out of the blue.

"No. Not yet" Sherlock answered honestly just as Ana entered the room wearing a baggy shirt. Tilting her head to the side she considered Sherlock. It was unnerving.

"John" she said in whine " I've got us a free pass in the case" handing over an ID that read; Hamish Watson, Special Assisting Officer.

"I procured one for you to" she said to Sherlock "It'll arrive later, john can speak my native language so he'll be your guide until we're needed"

"Isn't it best to start as soon as possible?"

"Yes, that is why I'll be resting while the two of you do something about my lodgings"

"I already have my lodgings"

"The crime scene isn't here. For that I must thank you" She said and went out of the room and into her lair. John sighed and explained "Her relationship with her brother is taciturn at best and cantankerous at worst"

Sherlock nodded and followed John out, leaving his coat and only his shirt on.

John and Sherlock were stuck in an 2 hour drive to Subic, via North Luzon Express way. Ana had deemed it too plebeian and opted for a helicopter. So he was now stuck with Sherlock and their driver who was apparently the Philippine Government, Ana's brother Abram.

John wanted to sleep but was too strung up and jet lag to do so. It was already 7 pm but his internal clock insisted it was still morning and he could still go on for 2 more hours. Thus he had focused himself on the case allowing his mind to review the evidence and the facts concerning the case. Turning it round and round in his head while watching the endless trees pass by.

Slowly he felt himself drifting first his thoughts then slowly his consciousness.

There was never a time in his life did John Watson like the suffocating kind of silence where so many words could be spoken and yet none is uttered. To only have the sound of heavy rain as their back ground, it felt too sad. And yet the eyes of the person right in front of him was so serene.

Her jet black hair which he had always loved despite its shortness made her paler in this library.

This feeling of having his heart squeeze until it could not pump blood in his veins gives him pain. He wants to speak so badly, to tell her the words that must, must be told and yet for all of his courage and bravado he could not even summon either of the two. He has lost too many chances in this span of a moment and yet he is doing nothing.

"-"

her lips open and yet he could not, for all of his brilliance, hear or even remember what this particular conversation entailed. It was as if his mind only held lies and that his finger tips were grasping for the truth that was out there. For a moment he is sure he has let a tear fall and this is why he hates the silence.

It is here that his mind chooses to remember, things that he should have deleted and could not, for it is the only memory of her.

It was completely out of character for Sherlock to be kind and yet it is with John's presence does he find himself striving to be one. He had noticed that the shorter man had fallen a sleep in the middle of the travel. As it was he took this chance to observe the man, not paying attention to their driver.

Here he noticed that the lines on John's face are decidely gone, it was as if he is seeing the John before whatever wore him down came to be. From the peaceful yet almost melancholy look on his face, Sherlock had concluded the man is dreaming about something rather sad. And John remained still until he saw that John had let a tear drop fell and mutter a name.

"-dra"

He wondered what are the names that ended in such a manner. To have evoked such an emotion from this man, who has layers upon layers on him, must be a special individual. Because John H. Watson was pragmatic and totally unpredictable. He could show emotions but it was detached as if he sees everything from a mirror that blocks everything from reaching him.

From the front, in the driver's mirror, Abram looked at the two and mused how it seemed that Sherlock Holmes was pining after the almost-military doctor.

Tragic.

From her room on the Garnet Hotel, Ana sat and on the window and watched the rain drizzle from her window. Her laptop was running and her food was cluttered through out the room. She was wearing nothing but an oversize shirt and her panty.

Her hair that was normally tied up was freely resting on her shoulders, it was dripping wet from the shower she had just took. Her posture was almost model like, posing for an invisible artist as she was lost deep in thought. The rain had that effect from her, it was as if she had lost all the will to live only this time unlike the rest, it had a comforting sadness with it. She could barely see through the fogged window and wonders how long would it take for John to arrive.

Then her phone rang and interrupted her comforting silence, looking at the caller ID she picked up.

"When you told me you'd be out for a while, for your manuscript I thought it meant you'd still be in London, not in the Philippines!" the shrill voice of Jim, her editor greeted her quite rudely.

"why, evening Jim, how's the weather? oh have I already informed you that, Jaya would be there to watch my flat while she's on vacation?" she said slyly.

"the weather's fine. And no, you didn't not inform me until NOW, you git!" Jim seethed

"oh, how terrible of me" she drolled

"I will skiiiiiiiiiiiiin you" Jim said making his voice quite shrill upon saying skin. Ana was silent waiting for her editor to be calm and regain his composure.

"How's your manuscript coming?" he asked his voice fond and Ana could almost return the sentiment. Almost.

"the boffin has talked to me and asked me out upon my return, though I would like to say that it is very hard to write a story about Haminford as well as Johnlock" she said truthfully.

"and why is that?" Jim asked curiously, Ana knew of her editor's stalkerish tedencies regarding John and his story and sighed like she was disappointed just to rile her editor. "git" Jim murmured and she laughed.

"Hamish worships and adores Sherrinford and so does the man but his actions are mixed signals as if he was hesitating to taste what he wants when clearly it is not unwanted, almost pitiful. John is amused of Sherlock and almost fond, whether it is because of his feelings regarding Sherrinford or his hero-worship for his older brother remains unseen. Though I suspect it is both. I find it tragic, Sherlock is on the verge of falling for John, he is almost there and John does not notice because he is too caught up on the axis of Hamish and Sherrinford." she pauses and then continues "unaware that he is the sun for Sherlock" she whispers this silently mourning the heart break for something that could not happen.

At the other end of the line, Jim Moriarty felt sorry and a bit sad, upon reading the first book of Arthur Doyle, he was enamoured by the fellowship of Hamish and Sherrinford, of how the little gestures that could easily be hidden among words stood out if you read and listen to the story. It was in the little gestures that the other did for the other that strengthens their relationship.

It was enviable.

And so he found himself comforting his ever, pragmatic and misanthropic writer who seems to only care about a few and even then was oddly detached at them. He found himself saying " just write up that manuscript and then right a fanfic about the four of them, your fans would be thrilled you haven't updated in a while"

the giggle on the other end of the line made him soften up.

"thanks, Jim. Jaya likes chocolate and italian, take her to Angelo's"

It is in this kind of moments, does he believe he could actually be friends with his writer. That is of course until the inevitable trouble starts coming around and once again her manuscript would be late along with John's. But for now he has a date to scheme and an update to read.

Back at the Garnet Hotel, Ana has decided to post her small update but instead of a story, it is an excerpt from her second story and John's second novel

Sherlock Holmes slowly realized that he was on the verge of falling for John Watson. The pragmatic and emotionally detached boy that had found him interesting and was fond of their friendly rivalry he has found himself wanting of John's recognition, to be recognize as an equal and that was irregular. He was a Holmes and Holmes' do not seek recognition. But among that, he knows that he wishes for John to be on the verge of falling for him, To have his feelings returned is want he wants. With that thought in mind he decides to retaliate. It is the law by which he and John knows best. And he will ensure it shall be to a similar degree.

-Study in Deduction, The Law of Retaliation

The problem, Agent 00 thinks, is that it was hard to tell what Q wanted from her. He could be cold and clinical at one moment and utterly sweet at her the next. It was hard to know what was on his mind. And all she could do was respond from a detached way, the safe way to ensure neither of them would be was hard to miss how Q would brush her fingers a bit too long regardless if his favorite 007 was there or not. She was not blind of the rumors, there was a chemistry between him and 007. She may be naive but she was not a fool, she would not allow herself to be a pawn, use and discarded once the purposed has been served. Even if the Quartermaster may just be a bit attracted to her as well, if the gadgets were to go by.

- The Quartermaster Who Loves Me

She smiled and informed John about the blog post minutes before posting it at her tumblr account. Her fans and the media would have a field day. Idly she wonders how long would Sherlock be oblivious to the fact that John still does not know or rather remembers his name much less the fact that John intends to end their one-sided and troublesome rivalry today.

She shrugs and decides to sleep on her King size bed. Waiting for John's reply. Later on after the whole debacle was done she would laugh her self out for her wrong assumptions.