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This is a story of Sir-Boast-A-Lot. He was the bravest and cleverest of knights. He had slain the most dragons in the kingdom, but alas Sir Boast-A-Lot was lonely. You see his faithful harold had left him all alone, to go get MaRried. 'How Boring'. That is when Sir Boast-a-Lot meant Lady Know-it-all and instantly became bewitched by her charms. He made plans to spend the rest of his life with her only the dragon seeking revenge came and BURNED Sir-boast-a-lot's heart to ash.

THe End.

John looked down at his program again, re-reading the paragraph with a drawing of a knight on his knees crying with ash all around him. John stands holding onto the leaflet and climbing over Mycroft and his parents to make it to the aisle. All of whom shoot him reprehending glares. Mary is whispering his name apologizing to the others as she follows him out of the theater.

"What is wrong?" Mary demands catching Johns arm causing him to pause. He thrust the program in her direction. Mary looks it over then up at him, "Sherlock!" She too concludes grabbing her husband's hand and pulling him out into the night's air, already hailing a cab.

Her contractions start before they reach Baker Street.

The night air was soothing, they had just finished dinner and Harry was sitting on his balcony watching the stars with Ginny laying against his chest her breathing slowing and Harry can tell she is close to sleep.

It is a flicker of something in the distance that draw his attention, flames that seem to be growing at an alarming rate causing Harry to pause and sit up straighter, odd that was in the direction of Baker St. Harry realizes pulling out his phone and dialing Hermione's number. No one answers and Harry is on his feet, his girlfriend forgotten as he charges into his house trying the number again this time it goes straight to voice mail.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Ginny asks and Harry is shaking his head.

"It was a joke...what I told her it was a joke, Gin." Harry rambles like a mad man.

"I don't understand?" Ginny is worried.

"I said, 'Let me know how this all ends.'" Harry tries to explain. Ginny nods like she understands assuming he is speaking of Hermione and that muggle man. "She responded with, 'I'm sure you will see the flames from Grimmald Place.'" Harry's face is white as he looks back out across the balcony where now the fire has reached the height of a S.O.S signal.

Save Our Souls

Perhaps there is something poetic in the situation Sherlock finds himself in. After years of vigilance, guarding his heart and relying on cold logic to find himself so completely compromised by a wisp of a girl.

He had said it before: Men, are quite capable of thinking logically, unless a woman is involved. But perhaps now looking at the evidence before him, he should revise such a statement: Men are capable of thinking logically unless a certain woman is involved.

Miss Hermione Granger had gotten under his skin and hollowed out a place in his heart reserved just for her. She had become the kind of addiction that blossomed into hope within the cynic's mind.

She had planted seeds of dreams of a future he had never dared to imagine such dreams that now had amounted to his own folly and destruction, because he had dared to hope such lovely dreams where possible.

Sherlock had known better, still he fell to temptation, because that was what Hermione Granger had been, the sweetest temptation a man could ever know- Clever, alluring and powerful.

Such a woman did not deserve the fate Jim Moriarty envisioned for her.

Sherlock looked around at the ruins of 221 Bakers St. The damage was not as bad as the flames had first suggested. Little bits were salvageable, a few of his books that had been on the corner shelf, parts of the kitchen and most of the down stairs.

Mrs. Hudson would not be completely ruined.

His own kitchen still smoked, billows of steam rising from the sink, Sherlock notes he still needed to finish the dishes.

His hands shake as he pulls his gun out checking the barrel. His and John's chairs are arranged just as they had always been, John's a skeleton of its self- his chair a bit scorched. The ash around them looks as if it has been disturbed little impressions no bigger than a child's foot oddly distributed, Sherlock shakes his head- he is reaching; seeing evidence where there is none. Building a house of cards to keep his mind from wondering; from fixating on her death.

The detective's bedroom had been burned to nothing. Just a black hole sucking in all his broken dreams and plans that had barley seen the light of day.

Sherlock surveys the flat again there was no sign of Bill Wiggins nothing to suggest that either him or Hermione's survival.

Sherlock doesn't know how yet, but the leader of his Baker Street Irregulars had to be somehow involved. Perhaps the tramp had been bought out 'desperation taints even the purest of souls'. Moriarty had said that, it had been a warning.

Still there was enough blame to go around. That was what truly ate at the detective, because Moriarty might have set the fire but Sherlock was the one to abandon her to the flames.

Even if unintentional.

She had been his future. Hermione had told him that caring was not the end of the world, but there was no question that it could very well be the end of his.

Because Hermione Granger had been his Mary. She had been his chance at getting off that perpetual wheel of going nowhere. And now Sherlock was truly left with nothing but thoughts of vengeance and a gun securely in his hand.

The university was dark a single lit courtyard like a torch drawling Sherlock forth. The light fed the detective's wrath as he makes his way across the campus grounds. Even in his heighten emotional state he is aware of his surroundings, the smallest hint of red in the corner of his eyes causes pause. He whips his head around that sinking feeling in his gut. Red was her color, come and get me! He remembered her saying. There was nothing there, no other signs of her… perhaps she was trailing him… Sherlock shakes his head at his own foolishness what a sap to dare to hope that somehow she had survived that fire. Sentiment… to want something so irrational…to consider that she was still out there watching his back. Clearly grief was already making him imagine things and that hope that she planted into his soul was more rooted then he thought. Unwilling to be distracted he continued on his path to the serpent's den knowing that the scene was set for the final problem to be solved.

Moriarty was dressed for the part in a black pinstriped suit his hair immaculate in place. The professor grins he spreads his arms in a gesture of welcoming, motioning to Sherlock.

The detective looks up from under his eyebrows. "We have been here before." The detective acknowledges flipping the collar of his coat up.

Moriarty is already nodding. "Yes, well I thought a sense of Deja Vu would bring the game around full circle." He smiles like this is all cause of great humor, if only for himself.

"Welcome Sherlock. I want you to know that I am sorry for your lose. She was a divine woman. It was such a waste to kill her but I did make you a promise, now didn't I?" Moriarty asks with a grin. "And what kind of man would I be if I didn't keep my promises?"

"The insane kind." Sherlock acknowledges with a quirk of his eye brow. There is very little self-control as he tries to calm down to keep emotion in check and his head in the game he still needed to figure out what Moriarty's playing at.

Then it hits him and Sherlock understands the snake is trying to work him up. Trying to get him to do something he might regret, but the detective has nothing else to loose, this was exactly where he was meant to be… his fury boiling to wrath.

Sherlock pulls his gun pointing it at the psychopath.

"OOOh, so he does want to play. You have come so far! First you were willing to die for the ones you love, how noble… and now willing to kill for a wOmAn. How ordinary." Moriarty mocks rocking back on his heels like he doesn't have a care in the world. "You won't shoot, little old me. I know you Sherlock and you don't have that killer instinct. I burned your heart out and still you are not Man enough to pull that trigger."

Sherlock cocks the gun his finger on the trigger, his face devoid of emotions unwilling to show his inner turmoil. He knows he is being played, but right now they both wanted the same thing, they both wanted Sherlock to pull that trigger.

Sherlock's finger presses down on the trigger and suddenly Moriarty's hands are in the air his wide eyes indicating fear.

"Don't shoot!" Moriarty hollers. "Now, Sherlock, don't shoot." He seems to beg, second thoughts perhaps.

Sherlock's eyebrows furrow as he tries to understand what is happening, Jim Moriarty showing fear…something was off.

"But that is the point, isn't it?" A familiar voice asks from the shadows, Hermione walking out of a door way a fire arm pointed at this supposed Jim Moriarty. She is in her red coat looking unbelievably alive, unharmed and beautiful beyond words.

Sherlock can feel his heart hammering in his chest all of his blood rushes to his ears, he feels like he is in a wind tunnel everything around him surreal. How was she there alive, why had she not come to him sooner, who had saved her from the fire?

"That's the point isn't it, Dick?" Hermione asks again, walking over causally; the weapon trained on the villain until she is standing next to him shoving the weapon against the professor's temple. "Sherlock shooting you. That is the whole point of this exercise. The moral of the story, every hero is capable of villainy if you push him far enough…How far is far enough to turn Sherlock into a murder? Into a psychopath just like you? You don't want to be alone, you need to know that special someone is just like you…" She says whispering the last part in Moriarty's ear before looking over at Sherlock with a smile. "I promised you mystery, angles and demons, a whole world of possibilities, Yes?" She asks him and Sherlock is not sure if he had been played or if she was here to save his soul.

It is Moriarty that answers; his face morphs from mortal fear to acceptance. "Psalms 78:49- He unleashed against them his burning fury, his wrath, indignation and hostility- a destroying angel… Bless you." The professor says turning with a tear in his eye with resolution on his face as he stares the barrel of the gun down. "Shoot me." He demands and Hermione smirks.

"Shoot you, heavens no. You still don't understand. I'm not the angel in this story." She warns." what was it? Can you tell me what it is… Sherlock, dear? What else was it I promised you?" She asks looking again to Sherlock who is eyeing her suspiciously as he answers. "Magic."

She smiles again, her attention back on the man at her mercy. "Magic! Ah yes, but we're not there yet. What is my greatest weakness, have you figured it out? My secrets, the why, the how…why love doesn't make me weak? How much did Moriarty promise a dyeing dead man to dress up and play make believe?" Hermione asks. "He can hear us, yes?"

Richard Brooks nods, "yes." The man says a red dot now trained on his head and the man looks frighten enough to wet himself.

"Good, because I want him to know I worked the final problem out...I have found the solution. I know who he is and that I am coming for him. He wanted to know my weakness…well it's time for him to understand…there is nothing he can do to me that hasn't been done already…i am the demon and I have seen his face and I'm bringing my army of one, my avenging angel with me. Sherlock and myself against the spider and his web…run and hide…because we're coming for you!" She says and the gun goes off in the distance. And she pistol whips the man across the face, he falls to the ground unconscious.

Sherlock looks over his shoulder to witness a rippling effect when the bullet hits a supposed invisible dome dissolving into nothingness.

He looks back at Hermione who has her hand on Richard Brook's head muttering to herself, her gun has disappeared and she reaches over pulling an ear bud from his ear.

"What are you?" Sherlock inquires sounding suspicious, because for the first time in his life he doesn't understand what is happening around him.

"A witch, of course! I work with Wizards Institution of Muggle Protection. While all this is a bit out of my jurisdiction, the man did try to murder me and witches do tend to take it personally when someone tries to burn them alive." She flips her hair over her shoulder and is looking up at him with such candor and trust that Sherlock realizes that the only logical conclusion is that she is in fact a witch. That would explain so much about her and the invisible dome thing that just saved their lives.

"You did promise me magic." Sherlock reasons. "I had not anticipated the literal kind…How did you survive the fire? A spell? You were barely conscious."

She takes a step towards him. "My elves saved me. One in particular. I'm not her favorite person in the world, but she was there when I needed her. Even gave me an antidote to get me back on my feet."

Sherlock nods, "One of the children that you built the shelters for…she saved you? Pulled you out …How is that possible- the weight difference alone…?" Sherlock still was not grasping the full concept of the world he has been pulled into.

Hermione reaches out to him interrupting the science of it all and sighs when he pulls her into his embrace. "I never said anything about children, they are elves and they saved me the same way we are going to drop in on the spider…" She lets her words trail off letting the temptation of wonder and possibility grow into anticipation.

"You did promise me a world of endless possibilities." Sherlock notes leaning down and kissing her as sweetly as a man like him can manage. He is content that she is alive and in his arms at the moment.

Sherlock brushes her hair back from her face and smiles at her and she knows they can lose themselves in each other if she doesn't put some distance between them, but not before kissing him again.

Then she does the responsible thing and pulls out of his embrace. Sherlock understands, he nods preparing himself for the conclusion of this mystery. There are some finer points that he is going to need her to explain. "That was really Richard Brooks then? You said you saw the snake's face. Then who is Jim Moriarty?" Sherlock asks indicating the unconscious man on the ground.

Hermione is eager to explain, "The real Jim Moriarty is an idea, a name only. The master mind is someone that would never put himself in line of fire. He likes to watch and watching is what got him caught. The man who died on the roof top, he was an actor, his real name was Samuel Roberts."

"They look alike, twins?" Sherlock asks, Hermione is already shaking her head.

"Science experiments. They both had extensive cosmetic surgeries. Look at his facial structure…the nose and lips. And the scaring behind his ear. This man was made to look like another. The real Jim Moriarty is still out there." Hermione explains kneeling next to the unconscious man pointing out her finding.

Sherlock nods, wondering how he hadn't notices the discrepancy in the underline structure before. "Idiot! Of course…So there are three of them?" Sherlock yells at himself.

Hermione again is shaking her head. She stands and walks over to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. "No…the two are window dressing. I doubt they look anything like the actual spider. He will want his image to remain innocent. But you will have met him, in some form he has attached himself to you by means of trust and comradely." Hermione deduces.

Sherlock is quiet trying to figure out who the real Jim Moriarty could be…he is searching his mind palace looking for a face and key to who would do this but in the end all he can do is think Mycroft, Mycroft had connection and ….

Hermione is looking up at him with wide brown eyes filled with empathy. "Not your brother." She assures like she can read his mind.

"Did you just do some magic thing to get inside my head?" He accuses.

An eyebrow arches, "No need for that, your face tells me anything I need to know. Aren't you going to interrogate me?" She presses looking up at him not at all offending in the path this is all going down.

"No, because I know you're not, him. You are not Jim Moriarty." Sherlock says like trying to convince himself.

"You don't sound completely sure. It would be the logical conclusion…" Hermione reasons but Sherlock cuts her off.

"No…you genuinely care about people, without that air of fakeness that overcompensates for malice. You aren't all that nice, bending others to your will for their own good… you are one of the most real people I believe I have ever met…And, I trust you." He admits aloud sounding appallingly surprised by the last bit. Like he only just now realized it.

He didn't trust anyone, not even John, not fully. "So you don't have to tell me…I'm Sherlock Holmes so I already know you're not him."

"No I'm not…" She confirms taking his hand. Sherlock seems to let out a sigh. She is looking up at him with determination and Sherlock knows it is time.

"Are you ready to face him?" She asks squeezing his hand.

"Yes lets be done with this it is time to move on to more entertaining games!" Sherlock assures wrapping his arm around her waist, just to hold her is comfort, her warm and alive in his arms.

He feels like he is being crammed into a small box the air around him collapsing in, all he can do is hold on to Hermione so she won't slip away. Then they are standing holding one another in an elegant tea room, a thin faced man in a pin striped suit looks up with a disaffected stare.

"Ah Sherlock, Hermione…Don't just stand there and gawk, come sit. Your tea is growing cold." The familiar blonde gestured with a sweeping hand motion welcoming his guests.

Sherlock halts as he looks at the familiar visual of Bill Wiggins cleaned up looking all posh. "You?" Sherlock looked at the familiar man, who had high cheek bones and thin face, with accusation. "All this time…you were Jim Moriarty…using people as puppets, but it was your words." Sherlock says not really needing an answer.

"Yes, yes we have established all that," The man shrugs with a nod clearly agreeing with the detective. "You're so easy to distract though. Always looking for a clever solution, when the truth is so much simpler. Still give you a song to sing to…to dance to and you distract all too beautifully. Pay a dead man to die and you tie up my international loose ends for me. All the while I'm sitting fat here working from home. Beautiful home too. Don't look so glum, you're not the only one that I can get to dance and sing…I can rule most of London from my computer and never have to get dressed. But you, Sherlock, are my favorite to watch." Bill says turning to give his full attention to Hermione. "Now I am more interested in your lady friend…I really am pleased to see you are alive and well Hermione. You were supposed to be leverage, Sherlock was supposed to thing you were dead, while you were actually my prisoner but the fire got a little out of hand and when I came back for you…you had vanished…So no hard feelings…after all you are the one that worked it all out and put yourself in such a dangerous situation. Were you even going to tell Sherlock? He told you he trusted you, and now we find out that such trust was miss placed. But then, trust is not love is it? He did drug you and leave you in my capable hands and since I was the one that measured out the sedative I know there was no way you could have gotten up and walked out. So how did you escape?"

"Elves. Have you not been listening? I let you listen for a reason..." Hermione informs him, all snooty like he was an idiot that should already know the answer, holding up the ear bud she hand taken from Richard Brook. "Everyone needs education so I thought I should enlighten you on three miscalculations on your part; The first one was that the boy you murdered died so that I could find the source of poison that lead me back to you and the picture in his phone of you stalking my every step weeks before Sherlock sent out his mass text. The second is that because of Bear's sacrifice I have been taking anti-venom daily so your sedative did not work fully on me, you should never have shown your face at Baker Street that night, because now you have no mask to hide behind."

Bill frowns looking impatiently at Hermione "How do you know I'm not just another puppet?" He challenges.

Hermione raises an eye brow and smirks. "Right you just told us you were Jim Moriarty, but you are right you could be lying, but we will come back to that... Now aren't you even a bit curious what the third miss calculation on your part was, for future reference of course?" She inquires patiently.

Bill folds his arms in front on him and stares Hermione down. "Alright, love, what is my third miscalculating?" He asks, arrogantly like all of this was mounting to his own victory. It is Sherlock that answers his gun drawn as he stares down his longtime nemesis.

"Why that I am Sherlock Holmes, and my companion is Hermione Granger, the sum of us is equivalent to endless possibilities. You cannot win." He states cocking his gun. Bill Wiggins' face pales as Sherlock wraps his free arm around Hermione. Bill's hand twitches so Sherlock make a warning motion with his gun. "I will shoot you." Sherlock states with a good threatening glare. Bill seems to believe the detective.

"Sherlock understands and now so do you." Hermione confirms with a know-it-all tone and flip of her hair. "You don't look too well, I think I know just what you need." She says to their host, stepping forward a stick in her hand the tip glowing so it is pointed at Bill causing the man to go cross eyed.

"I woman's touch?" Sherlock suggests to the villain as Bill Wiggins a.k.a. Jim Moriarty hits his knees.

Hermione is muttering what sounds like an incantation, or witchy thing of some kind all the while her wand glowing ominously.

"So at last you come face to face to the weaver of webs. This is Jim Moriarty, and his net has been cast wide. What do you want to do with him?" Hermione asks confirming this was their man.

Sherlock is looking at the subdued spider, the detective wants him dead. There was no room in Sherlock's future for a villain that knew how to devastate without conscious. There was so much that Sherlock wanted and every bit of it he had scarcely imagined he could have because the fear of losing it to such men weighted too heavy on the detective's logical mind. But death would only be a momentary solution, eventually another spider will find the web and claim it as their own. So many variables and Sherlock was finding that after a lifetime of practice at detachment at this moment it has all fled him and that all he can do is think with emotions rather than cold hard logic.

Hermione is kneeling next to Bill her hand softly against his brow as she looks up at the detective. "All done. He will have a choice to make and it will ultimately be his…" Hermione stands facing Sherlock.

"What choice?" The detective wants to know.

"Good or Evil. I planted the seed. One will be his salvation the other his destruction." Hermione reasons and Sherlock nods before the wheels in his head began to turn and he looks up suspiciously at his roommate.

"Like mind magic?" Sherlock sounds aghast.

Hermione shrugs with a nod, walking around Sherlock gracefully making her way out of the house.

"Wait! How did you…? Are you positive he…? Did you do mind magic on me?" Sherlock wants to know not able to complete a full question until the last one.

Hermione looks over her shoulder with a saucy grin. "Do you have to ask?"

The taxi pulled up to the ruins of 221 Baker Street, Mrs. Hudson can feel her heart speed up as she hesitantly steps out onto the side walk.

"Are you sure we're in the right place, ma'am?" The taxi driver asks but Mrs. Hudson who tentatively nods.

What has Sherlock done now? She asks herself

A construction worker approaches her with a tilt of his hard hat. "You wouldn't happen to be Mrs. Hudson would you, now?" the man asks and the land lady is able to nod. "They told me to give you this." He states offering a sealed envelope which Mrs. Hudson takes with a quiet thanks.

Our dearest Mrs. Hudson,

I understand the troubling sight before you may be a bit hard to process but, I can assure you that Sherlock and I are in the process of having 221 Baker Street rebuilt in all its glory at no cost or unconvinced to you. In the meantime you are welcome to extend your holiday with us in Sussex, the address and taxi fees are enclosed.

Thank you, as always for your patience.

We hope to see you soon,

Hermione and Sherlock

Mrs. Hudson re-reads the letter and lets out a sigh. "Looks like I'm going to Sussex she tells the taxi driver climbing back in the cab handing the driver the address.

The cottage is in Eastbourne Sussex. The shore line viable from the front yard and Mrs. Hudson wonders if the cliffs in the distance are the seven sisters. John is there to help her with her suit cases and Mary is holding their new baby rushing over to give Mrs. Hudson a one armed hug.

"You made it! How was your trip?" Mary asks. Mrs. Hudson shakes her head brushing off her own worries at the sight of the beautiful baby girl in Mary's arms. "Oh it was fine." Mrs. Hudson says already reaching for the baby. "Let me look at her now." The older woman coos embracing the pink bundle.

"She is just lovely!" Mrs. Hudson declares at which Mary smiles. John is unloading her bags and paying the taxi driver.

"This is a beautiful cottage! How long do you think we get to stay here?" Mrs. Hudson ask sounding excited.

John scratches his head and the front door opens a familiar looking man with green eyes and untidy hair walks out with his red haired girlfriend on his arm. John waves them over, "Potter! Help me with these bags!" John requests to which Harry and Ginny quickly intervene.

"Don't you know? It's theirs they own it!" Mary says.

"Who does?" Mrs. Hudson asks.

"Mr. and Mrs. Holmes. He bought it as a wedding present for her. It was all very romantic." Ginny fills in with a wistful sigh.

Harry frowns. "There was nothing romantic about it. They went to a Register Office and signed papers then had a party. There was no real ceremony."

"He bought her a house." Ginny argues.

"A cottage…with bees." Harry snaps back.

"And a garden." Ginny smiles at her fiancé.

"So this is theirs then? They are married!" Mrs. Hudson seems to be up to speed on.

"I hope so after the scene he made at the register office." John interjects hauling Mrs. Hudson's luggage into the cottage.

"So they don't plan to come back to Baker Street once it is re built?" Mrs. Hudson asks sounding upset over the possibility as they all make their way into the house.

"He said he will need an office." John assures the land lady, setting the luggage down and taking his daughter.

Mrs. Hudson looks around at the cozy dwelling, "So where are they?" She is eager to get some questions answered about what happened at Baker Street.

"With the bees." They all say in unison pointing to the back door.

Mrs. Hudson walks out and down the little stone path, she stops when she sees them. Locked in an intimate embrace they are standing just outside the bee enclose, they have taken off their protective gear and Sherlock brushes the side of Hermione's cheek before leaning down and gently kisses his wife.

Mrs. Hudson not one to raise a fuss ventures back to the house, leaving them to have their moments.

The rest can wait for another time.

A.N: I hope everyone enjoyed the story.