I do not own Sherlock or James Bond

Last but not least :)

Best Laid Plans

Sherlock bit hard into her cheek as the kidnapper did his level best to branch out into torturer – why limit yourself after all when the opportunity presented itself.

The rough looking individual was putting his all into breaking her right leg, pressing down hard with his heel. She already had at least two broken ribs from where his boot toe had connected viciously with her side.

"Tell me!" he snarled, saliva spraying from his mouth.

Lovely.

"I don't know what you are talking about," she gasped before returning her focus to not crying out.

The most irritating thing about the situation was that she had no idea what the moron was going on about and she had actually for once in her life been in the wrong place at the wrong time. She felt insulted by the whole affair. There she had been, minding her own business down the darkest, creepiest alley – to avoid anyone! – that smelled of urine and rotten garbage (she shuddered to thing what was on her shoes) and the next thing she knew someone had struck her across the head and everything went black.

And now here she was with Moron standing on her leg and spitting all over her. All she could think was that the man wasn't going to live to regret taking her because as soon as James caught up he would be MI6-ing a bullet through the man's head.

Speak of the devil.

Sherlock only flinched a little as a hole appeared in Moron's head and he fell forward landing on top of her and sending all of the air out of her lungs.

She had seen a lot since she had left London nearly three years ago and death was no longer quite the elusive stranger that it had once been. She could count on one hand - and not even use all of her digits – the number of deaths she had witnessed before her 'suicide'. She had ran out of fingers and toes over the years. She was glad of one thing though. She had never grown numb to it. Anderson would be disappointed.

She struggled to shimmy out from beneath Moron's dead body and failed until a dark figure loomed above her, grabbed him about the shoulders and dragged him from her.

"Ja-"

That wasn't James.

Her heart leapt in her chest at the sight.

He was a deceptively regular looking man – attractive, sure, but nothing too special.

He grinned at her.

"Miss Holmes,"

"Mr Moran," she forced her voice to remain calm even as the man calmly raised his hand to show her the weapon that had no doubt killed Moron. All of a sudden Moron didn't seem too bad in the grand scale of things.

She evaluated her position.

It didn't look good. Her hands were tied behind her back – in fact she was sure Moron had dislocated her left shoulder in doing so – at least two broken ribs and her right leg was thumping painfully with each heartbeat. If she could roll over she could stumble to her feet but she did not feel inclined to put her back to Moran. She would much rather see the bullet coming.

She couldn't even be sure where she was.

The floor was concrete; she could make out the texture with her hands and the chill that was biting through her clothes.

The room was dark, except for the light coming from a tall lamp by a wall.

She got the impression that the room was big, with high ceilings and high windows – which meant one less escape route.

A factory or warehouse perhaps?

Wherever it was, the floor was liberally dusted with droppings of the rodent variety. Anything with fours legs had no doubt dashed for cover as soon as Moron came bashing through the door and started yelling.

Where are you James?

He aimed the barrel at her.

She gulped and breathed in deeply.

I'll be damned before I show any fear.

"No begging Miss Holmes,"

She shook her head and attempted a shrug.

It hurt.

"I don't believe in wasting energy. Begging won't change your mind,"

I am not giving you the satisfaction.

"Three years of running and this is how the great protégée comes to an end," he mocked, crouching down to hold the gun to her head.

She shivered at the feel of the cold metal against her skin.

Protégé? No one trained me thank you!

"Pff…protégé?" she gasped, "Lucky for you there is only one of me, Mr Moran," she spat.

He was going to kill her, that had been established – and unless James got a move on and made use of that high level tracking chip buried in her shoulder he was going to succeed – but that didn't mean he was going to get away with belittling her intelligence.

Of course, that didn't take into account Mycroft…

A humourless smile danced across the snipers lips. She should have known he would want to make it personal and look her in the eye as he pulled the trigger.

He leaned in close, but not close enough for her to succeed in head butting him without him reflexively pulling the trigger.

Dead either way Sherlock.

"Did you hones-"

Bang!

A shot echoed around the room – big and very empty from the sound – before Moran, a look of almost comical shock in his eyes fell back.

The second of silence that followed the gin shot ended with the same suddenness that it had began and Moran's pain filled whines filled the darkness.

She could feel him catching at her foot and she respected he was doing some rolling along with the whining.

"In all fairness, you are still alive Mr Moran," she pointed out to him as another man – one she knew wasn't going to pull a gun on her (well, I suppose there is always that small chance) – loomed over her for a moment before he crouched beside her. Strong hands gripped her shoulders and gently lifted her from the ground. An arm wound around her shoulder, supporting her against his chest.

A few choice phrases were spat at from the shot, bleeding and sadly very alive sniper.

"Any chance he'll bleed to death before the cavalry arrives?" she asked dryly, ignoring the shot man and trying to keep her breathing steady as James manoeuvred her so she was leaning against him while he untied her hands.

Her rescuers lips were hovering by her ear and the deep chuckle that escaped them sent a shiver through her.

"Anyone would think you held something against this gentleman,"

She rolled her eyes.

"Justified?"

She felt him nod against the side of her face.

"Justified," he whispered into her ear, pressing a kiss to her forehead and pulling away.

Good. She just wanted to check.

Blood rushed into her hands and she forced herself to move them.

"Unfortunately, no bleed out," James informed her.

"Shame," she grumbled, glaring over at the still complaining man.

Would he ever shut up.

"The powers that be –" those being M and Mycroft – "Want him alive,"

Sherlock could hear sirens in the distance and sighed.

How unfortunate.

"That's the bugle if I'm not mistaken," James chuckled.

She relaxed against him and closed her eyes.

It seemed unreal, three years of her life had been spent tracking down Moriarty's fellow spiders and then they catch the last one purely by accident.

John would appreciate the irony.

She stayed in James' arms as agents swarmed the building, followed by the ambulance crew.

Moran's screams began in earnest once again.

"Oh, do shut up," she mumbled under he breath and James' arms tightened on her a little as the sniper was shifted onto a board and rolled from the building screaming some choice phrases at her.

Nothing new.

'You will rue the day you ever saw me' the usual bad guy stuff really.

"Won't they ever think of something more varied to say," she sighed, feeling very tired all of a sudden.

James laughed and pressed another kiss to her hair.

She liked it when he did that.

"Maybe you should do an article on your blog when you get home, 'Parting Comments for the Criminal Classes'"

"Mmm," she agreed, nodding her head sleepily.

Soon paramedics arrived to see to her and she was bundled off into an ambulance James never leaving her side.

The door closed and the ambulance pulled away as she began to drift.

"Don't think you are getting out of this one Sherlock. When you wake up we are having a talk about wondering off and NOT doing it,"

He sounded tired.

"Yes dear," she whispered, a smile flickering across her lips.

He last thing she felt before she fell into the blackness was James squeezing her hand.

She really liked it when he did that.

Tada.

All done. I hope you enjoyed this bundle of one-shots - please leave a comment if you did, I would love to have your feedback :)

All of these one-shots along with some Once Upon a Time (Rumbelle) and future bundles (I only post them here once I have a bunch finished) can be found on my tumbr - griffinquillsandoctopusink dot tumblr dot com.

Thanks & take care everyone :)