A.N.- I am SO sorry. Everything has been hectic. But I decided quarantine is the best time to sit down and power through my writer's block. Please let me know what you think.

The Dame of Baker Street 3: Logic Impaired, Ch. 19

The car was quiet. Mycroft had been elected to drive since he was in the best shape out of the group. He hunkered behind the wheel with a permanent scowl on his face as he gently urged the Jeep down the road. By unanimous consent, it had been decided to keep the headlights off to avoid being spotted. The car idled loudly, and Mycroft only pushed the gas when he needed to climb a hill to avoid revving the engine too much.

Mary sat in the passenger seat beside Mycroft, scanning their surroundings expertly. To Madeline she seemed relaxed; but she noticed that Mary kept her pistol in her hand, resting the gun in her lap in case of an emergency.

Sherlock was nestled between John and Madeline, with Amelia sitting in his lap for safety and convenience's sake. Unfortunately, she was in the mood to play and kept whining to demand attention.

"Aun' Ma, patty cake!"

"Not right now, Amy." Madeline replied quietly. Amy let out a complaintive moan and thrashed in Sherlock's lap, making him wince. When she didn't succeed in diverting Madeline's attention she frowned and turned to John.

"Da, play I spy!"

"It's dark out Amy, you won't be able to see anything." John told her patiently. "Just sit tight for a while longer."

"How about we play the quiet game?" Mycroft snapped from the front. "First person to lose gets thrown from the car." Amy giggled then quickly clapped her hands over her mouth once she realized she'd immediately lost.

"He won't hurt you." Sherlock murmured to her. "He's like a big puppy dog- all bark and no bite." Mycroft's glare intensified and Amelia snuggled farther into Sherlock's chest, glad to finally have someone's attention.

"U'a Sock, story time!" She demanded.

"Mary I'll throw your child into the next ditch." Mycroft threatened. Mary turned around in her seat to pat Amy's knee.

"Amelia, mummy needs you to be quiet okay? We're all trying to play the quiet game until we reach Mr. Holmes' friends." She said kindly. Amy's grin turned into a pout, and her lip started to quiver. She let out little whimpers.

"Oh God, spare me the tantrum." Mycroft muttered. Sherlock sighed and adjusted her in his lap.

"Amy do you want a story?" He asked.

"Yes." The child sniffed. Sherlock looked to John, who held a finger to his lips to encourage silence.

"We'll have to tell a secret story then." Sherlock whispered, ducking close to Amy. "That way your parents won't know. But you have to be quiet to hear everything, alright?" She giggled when his stubble scratched her cheek and pulled her legs up under herself.

"Ready?"

"Ready!" She whispered.

"Excellent. Your Aunt Madeline will happily tell you a story." Sherlock said, softly elbowing Madeline and looping her into the scene. She had been surveying the skies above the Jeep, leaning ever so slightly out the door to look up.

"Sherlock, you tell her a story."

"I'm no story teller."

"Neither am I!" She hissed, trying to keep her voice down. "I'm trying to see if we're being followed."

"You read more fictional books than I do, recount something." Sherlock told her simply. Amy clasped her hands together in her lap and looked up expectantly. Madeline sighed.

"Okay Amy." She whispered, wracking her brain for an adequate story. Amelia and Sherlock both watched her expectantly, and she sighed again. "Once upon a time…" Amy wiggled excitedly in Sherlock's lap; but he held a finger to his lips to remind her to be quiet. Amelia nodded and pinched her lips together. "There was a princess who lived in a big castle." Madeline whispered.

"Who's castle?" Amy asked quietly.

"Just the princess's." Madeline continued. "She woke up one morning and all the servants and knights had vanished. The only people left in the castle were the horses and dogs." Amy gasped quietly, and Sherlock smiled. "So the princess went out on one of the horses to find everyone. She ended up going far into the woods, farther than anyone had ever gone. The princess found a small house in the forest with smoke coming out of the chimney."

"Does princess have name?"

"Princess Amy of course." Madeline teased, enjoying the opportunity to forget about the stress of the outside world. She continued her story in a barely audible whisper, and Sherlock found himself leaning forward with Amy to listen. "There was a wizard in the house, who knew without a doubt what had happened to the people in the princess's castle. A dragon had put them all to sleep and taken them to his cave." Amelia recoiled against Sherlock's chest, knitting her hands in his shirt. "No, no it's all okay." Madeline said quickly, still struggling to keep her voice low. "Because the princess was friends with the mermaids in the forest."

"No mermaids in forest Aun' Ma." Amy giggled. John gently shushed her but diverted his attention the story unfolding in the back of the Jeep.

"Fine, water nymphs then." Madeline pretended to huff. "They told Princess Amy the way to the dragon's cave, and the wizard went with her." She was about to go farther when Mycroft tapped the brakes of the Jeep, throwing her forward slightly.

"That's them up ahead." He muttered. "Everyone out, we'll walk the rest of the way."

Mary hopped out first, taking post to scan around them for any signs of an ambush. Madeline slid out, took Amy from Sherlock, and met John on the other side. He still held his broken wrist close to him; but used his other hand to pull Amelia to his hip. Madeline swung back into the car to offer her hand to Sherlock, but he waved her aside and hopped out by himself.

"You need to be careful with your shoulder." He warned her kindly.

"That's fine, I don't need a hand down." Mycroft scoffed as he hopped down from the front seat.

"When you're a prick nobody will offer." John pointed out. Mycroft cut him a cold look, then turned to strain his eyes through the night.

"We've got three vans." He said. "How're we splitting up?"

"John, Amy, and I are going together." Mary interjected.

"Then one of us three is going to have to ride alone." Mycroft said to Sherlock and Madeline.

"Or we could ride together and leave one van empty as a dupe." Madeline suggested. "Keep the empty one in the middle so it looks like the other two are flanking it for protection." Mycroft screwed his face into a tight knot while he mulled over her plan, then nodded.

"Watsons, you go up first." He ordered. "Stay low and quiet." Mary turned to remind Amy to stay silent, then placed her between herself and John. They crept forward to the nearest van and filed in.

"And now us." Mycroft said grimly. "Shall we?" He bent over a little awkwardly at the waist and started slinking towards the next van.

"He looks like he has a bad back." Sherlock commented lowly, and Madeline fought back a laugh. The adrenaline made her feel the same giddiness she felt when playing hide and seek. She was well aware of the danger but had the overbearing urge to laugh. Madeline was lucky enough to stifle herself and slid under Sherlock's arms to help him.

"Let's just go." She breathed. They both snuck towards the vans and climbed in. As soon as Mycroft slid the doors shut, he gave the order.

"Go. Now!" The vans simultaneously flared to life, their headlights flooding the road with pale light. Mycroft's van moved off first, followed by the empty one, with the Watsons bringing up the rear. Mycroft watched to make sure each car took off safely, then sat back with a deep sigh of relief.

"We have three hours, so you'd better think of a real plan." He told Sherlock, who had leaned his head back and had his eyes closed in contemplation.

"I will." The detective promised, keeping his face impeccably stoic despite the situation. He'd lost control of his emotions at the second house and had endangered the group. His next move would be like chess on steroids- he'd have to out think Jim's move to out think him and still come out on top. Mycroft folded his hands in his lap impatiently.

"Well? Let's hear it then." He demanded. Sherlock cracked his eyes open with tangible annoyance.

"I'm still thinking. I'm not a supercomputer." He replied. Mycroft hummed a negative sound and swung one of his legs over the other. Madeline watched him carefully before turning back to the window to check on the other cars.

"You've got two and a half hours, then." Mycroft sniped. "As soon as we hit London you'd best have a plan, and a good one at that." Sherlock made a noise of affirmation and leaned back again, letting the jostling of the Jeep rock him into a contemplative state. Mycroft shook his head and did his best to dispel his own worries and keep faith in his brother.

"Are there radios between the cars?" Sherlock asked. "I need to speak with the Watsons."

"There are… why do you ask." Mycroft replied warily. Sherlock's mouth twitched in an almost imperceptible smile.

"Trust me, I know what I'm doing. Mostly." He added.

. . .

Just after they crossed the city boundary into London, Sherlock opened his eyes. Mycroft, who had been watching him intently, raised his eyebrows just a hair. Madeline had been watching the road, constantly.

"Alright, are you ready?" Sherlock asked.

"No." Madeline said.

"Too bad." Mycroft interrupted. "Here we go." He nodded to the driver, who pulled over to the side of the road. As soon as the door opened, Madeline and Sherlock bolted out one side and Mycroft left out the other. They zigzagged through the streets, shoving tourists and Londoners alike. Madeline couldn't remember the route they'd planned, so she let Sherlock guide her. He wasn't going very fast with his limp; but he was trying his best. He only leaned on Madeline a little bit for support as he dragged her through alleyways and intersections.

"In here." They ducked into a small shop and weaved between rotating stands of postcards and racks of shirts reading "I LOVE LONDON". Sherlock snagged a baseball cap emblazoned with a cartoon Union Jack and slapped it onto his head. Madeline grabbed a windbreaker off of a shelf, knocking the shirts on either side of it to the ground. She pushed her arms into the sleeves and threw the hood up to cover her face. She and Sherlock left the store and kept going, ignoring the frantic calls of the shop owner behind them.

"Did John and Mary make it yet?" Madeline asked breathlessly. She could barely keep stride with Sherlock, even with his limp.

"No idea, we'll have to see." He replied over his shoulder, swinging around a corner with what could only be described as reckless abandon. He sidestepped a cab and reached behind him to grab Madeline and pull her with him through three lanes of traffic. They finally stopped to catch their breath they were in Piccadilly Circuit watching the cars and buses speed past and weave around. Sherlock squared his shoulders and snagged Madeline's hand.

"Are you ready?" He asked.

"That's a terrible question." She replied. "God I hope this works."

"You and I both." Sherlock answered. "Come on." They darted across the nearest crosswalk and stopped at the fountain in the middle of the Circus. Madeline hopped onto the lip of the fountain and raised her voice.

"Listen!" She shouted, "I need everyone to leave the area right now!" A few people threw her looks of annoyance and she was sure she saw some raised eyebrows; but nobody moved from their spots. Tourist families kept posing in front of the fountain and a young woman kept juggling tennis balls on the other side of the courtyard.

"Guys come on!" Madeline yelled, "Your lives are in danger!" Sherlock tugged on her good arm for support as he clambered up beside her.

"Scotland Yard demands your cooperation and requests that you vacate the area immediately!" He shouted. People turned again, ready to vent their annoyance at whatever disturbance was adding to the noise of the Circus; but stopped when they realized who was speaking to them.

"That's the detective from the cover of The Sun." Madeline heard someone say.

"He works with Scotland Yard. Solving murders and the like."

"What's he doing here?"

"I saw him on the news!"

Sherlock shifted agitatedly and Madeline noticed just how heavily he was leaning on her. "Once again," He said tersely. "You need to leave the vicinity at once!" He looked down to a young teenager holding his phone up to take a picture.

"That means go. Now." He snapped. The kid scrambled backwards and a few other spectators stepped away nervously, ushering their children away from the spectacle. Sherlock made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat and pulled his gun from his pocket. He turned and fired a bullet into the basin of the fountain. Someone yelped and someone else screamed, but Sherlock had their attention.

"Leave." He repeated.

Madeline watched the tourists and Londoners alike flee the scene, running to the nearest Tube station or pulling out their phones to call the police as they left for a safer location. Sherlock sagged against her shoulder, almost knocking her into the fountain.

"Don't pass out on me." She teased, hopping down and extending her hand to help Sherlock down. His descent jostled her injured shoulder and she winced, drawing back a little bit.

"I won't." Sherlock assured her, "But stop overexerting your arm." Madeline didn't answer him. Her eyes were fixed over his shoulder at the giant screen on one of the buildings. The ads that normally cycled through for the public had been replaced with a blank white slate.

Slowly, deliberately, individual letters appeared on the screen as if they were being slowly typed. Sherlock couldn't help but grin as "YOUR MOVE JIM" emblazoned itself on the screen.

"They made it." He breathed. Madeline tore her gaze from the screen in time to see black vans pull into place at each entrance to the Circus. Each van vomited out a crew of men who began directing traffic and pedestrians out of the area. Piccadilly Circus quickly emptied itself into a barren wasteland, leaving Sherlock and Madeline at the edge of the fountain.

"Okay Mycroft's men are in place and John and Mary have the screen- now what?" Madeline murmured. Sherlock slid to the ground with a groan.

"Now we wait." He replied.

. . .

The sun had already started its descent when Sherlock heard a commotion. One of the agents guarding the perimeter of the Circus pointed towards the Tube station, triggering a flurry of activity from the other vans. Madeline peeked over the lip of the fountain and strained her eyes to see what the agent had pointed at only to duck back down.

"He's here." She whispered. Sherlock leaned forward and tried to push himself to his feet but Madeline pulled him back. "We need to wait." She reminded him.

"So! I got your message!" Jim's voice boomed across the square. "Seems like an awful lot of trouble you're going through just for little old me."

"Believe me when we're done it will have been worth it." Sherlock growled. Madeline threw him a warning glance, urging him to remain patient. Jim leaned his head back and looked at the sky.

"Good thing the skies were clear today, it's a perfect view!" He crowed, "I also brought a friend to say hi. Go on little one." Madeline and Sherlock shared a look of horror and disbelief as they realized the stakes had heightened.

"U'a Sock!" Amy chimed, happily oblivious to the adult tension around her. Sherlock bolted to his feet immediately, faster than Madeline had ever seen him move.

"Mori-"His shout was cut short by a whistle and crack. Madeline saw a spray of stone fragments strike the fountain by Sherlock's hip. He ducked back down beside her, absolutely livid.

"Like I said, it's a great view." Jim continued, "Especially if you've got a scope and laser aimed at the back of your skull." Madeline whirled around, squinting in the afternoon light to try and scan the tops of the buildings around them.

"It's got to be the sniper from Byng Place!" She gasped.

"An excellent observation." Sherlock replied dryly. He tried to move forward and edge around the fountain, only to be driven back by another plume of stone. Amy whimpered across the square, starting to realize the danger and gravitas of the situation.

"Oh Sherlock don't upset her." Jim chided. Amy took a step away from him and he snagged her by the arm. She yelped as he pulled her to him.

"It's over." Madeline snapped, making sure her voice echoed across the plaza. "You're surrounded." Jim couldn't have rolled his eyes harder.

"You dolts never learn. I'm always a step ahead, and if Sherlock would clear that silly fog from his head he would be too." He replied snidely.

"Where are John and Mary?" Sherlock growled. He'd been forced into a crouch by the lip of the fountain, and Madeline had a tight grip on the back of his coat to hold him in place.

"They're… around." Jim answered with a mockingly evasive tone. Amy tried to move away again but Jim dug his fingers into her shoulder, making her let out a wail that made Madeline's ears hurt. Sherlock's gun reappeared in his fist from the depths of his coat, and he slyly slid the clip out to check the bullets.

"Six." He murmured. Madeline didn't take her eyes off of Jim and Amy but nodded almost imperceptibly.

"I'm not a fan of the whispering, Sherlock." Jim called across the square. "You'll want to pay attention to the next bit." He released Amy's arm in favor of pulling down the collar of his shirt to reveal an electrode pasted to his chest. Amy waddled away from him and Jim let her go. Sherlock moved to get her but his leg gave out and he fell back against the fountain. Madeline darted forward, praying she'd caught the sniper off guard. She met Amy halfway and scooped the child into her arms, then turned on her heel and sprinted back to Sherlock. Her eyes were watering with pain when she reached him; but he was craning his neck to peer over the fountain at the sniper's approximate location.

"They didn't shoot," He muttered, "They had a perfect shot."

"Let's not question it and chalk it up to luck, hm?" Madeline said breathlessly, hissing between her teeth when Amy clung to her sore shoulder.

"Sherlock pay attention!" Jim snapped, tapping the electrode on his chest. "You want to hear the stakes don't you?'

"Do you have any plans that don't involve bombs?" Sherlock asked tersely. "It's getting old. Tell me where they are and they'll be dealt with."

"Oh it's not a bomb, just insurance." Jim told him, "There's a computer database somewhere in the world that contains zettabytes of juicy data." He grinned, baring perfectly white teeth. "National secrets, agent aliases, politician scandals, confidential information, you know the like. It's rigged to send out the data as soon as my heart stops, so shoot me and have fun with the impending anarchy." Out of the corner of his eye Sherlock could see a few men peel off and leave in a car. Mycroft was listening and further rallying his forces.

"Is it in London?" He asked carefully. Jim pursed his lips.

"Not everything is so cut and dry. I do have business outside of the UK, you know." He said facetiously. "We're talking worldwide."

"I could just shoot you in the kneecap and take you in." Sherlock threatened. Amy pressed herself against Madeline, she'd never heard her godfather speak in such a tone. Madeline gently stroked her hair, not taking her eyes off the confrontation in front of her.

"I mean you certainly could," Moriarty drawled, "But you might hit my femoral artery and I'd bleed out, or I'd get upset and have my sniper shoot all of us. You'd die shamefully."

"Where Ma and Da?" Amy whispered.

"I don't know." Madeline answered truthfully. "But they're ok." She saw Sherlock glancing at her out of the corner of his eye and immediately knew he was going to do something stupid. His gaze was warm but sad. She narrowed her eyes at him to remind him to keep his head.

"Up to you, Sherlock. I don't have all day." Jim called. Mycroft's men milled aimlessly around the edge of Piccadilly, utterly helpless to make a move and likely restrained by Mycroft.

"I need you to let Madeline and Amy leave." Sherlock boomed across the circuit. "And then we'll talk." Jim's grin grew even wider.

"Or I could just snipe them where they stand. Ever been covered in someone's brains, Sherlock?" He asked. Madeline saw Sherlock's fist tighten around his gun and carefully knitted her hand into the back of his coat to keep him down.

"Then I'll immediately shoot you no matter the consequences." He growled. Jim's face dropped in annoyance and he twirled his hand dismissively.

"Fine, whatever. You're not playing by the rules, though. Go on." He snapped. Sherlock turned to Madeline, mindful of her shoulder.

"I need you to take Amy and go." He told her.

"Absolutely fucking not." She answered, forgetting about the toddler in her arms. Sherlock closed his eyes and sighed.

"Please just trust me." He said quietly.

"I don't." Madeline retorted fervently. "You're going to get yourself killed." Sherlock craned his head above the fountain basin, Mycroft had emerged in the fringe of the bobbies and agents circling the area, ready to receive Madeline and Amy.

"Madeline please." His change in tone startled her, it wasn't like him to beg. "For my peace of mind just take her." Madeline furrowed her brow as Moriarty yawned obnoxiously. Amy whimpered again and Madeline darted forward to kiss the detective.

"Come back alive or I'll kill you." She said. His mouth bent into a wry smile as he turned to train his gun on Moriarty.

"Alright, go."

"Madeline hugged Amy to her chest and struggled to her feet, then ran to the other side of Piccadilly. She knew the sniper was watching her but they didn't shoot. Amy bounced in her arms, sending bolts of pain through her shoulder. When Madeline reached Mycroft on the edge of the plaza she turned around breathlessly. Sherlock was still staring down the barrel of his gun at Moriarty. Jim clapped his hands together and turned on his heel.

"Well then! Now that that's done let's go somewhere a little more private." He strolled back towards the Tube station with his hands in his pockets. Sherlock threw one look towards Madeline and Mycroft before following him. His brother stepped forward, only to have a bullet strike the ground in front of him. Madeline watched closely as Sherlock followed Jim down the steps into the Tube, meeting her eyes briefly as a warning to stay put. As soon as they disappeared underground Madeline passed Amy to a very surprised looking Mycroft and grabbed his gun.

"Miss Carver!" He shouted as she bolted back across the roundabout with the weapon clutched in her good arm. She kept her eyes on the stairs and prayed the sniper had been caught off guard.

No such luck.

Bullets spiked the pavement to her left, making her dive to the right. She jumped back to her feet again only to dodge another shot that went wide. Madeline reached the stairway and descended, ignoring Mycroft's look of horror as another shot buzzed over her head.

. . .

Multiple rifle cracks echoed down the stairway of the Tube, and Sherlock stopped short. Moriarty slid under the ticket turnstile and turned to face him.

"Well looks like someone decided to make a run for it." Jim said simply. "You can collect her body when we're done don't worry." Sherlock's eyes narrowed as the pulsing blood in his ears rose to a roar. He raised his gun and fired; but Jim ducked it effortlessly and took off down the hall with a chuckle. Sherlock leapt over the turnstile and followed him, racing past the white tiled walls and various posters in their frames. He reached the end of the hall that split into two and strained his ears to hear Moriarty's footsteps. He heard something from the left and darted down the hall, emerging onto the platform and almost stumbling as he stopped short.

Jim was parked neatly on a bench, legs crossed like he was waiting for his train. Sherlock didn't waste time with the banter, he raised his gun again and squeezed off two more shots. Jim rolled off the bench and rushed him, kicking viciously at his wounded leg and using Sherlock's coat to spin him around and disorient him. He landed a few good blows until Sherlock lashed out with his gun and caught Moriarty in the ribs, soliciting a guttural wheeze from his opponent.

"Remember, Sherlock- electrodes." He quipped, tapping his chest again.

"I could care less." Sherlock snapped, brandishing his pistol again. Jim's mouth curved deviously.

"I should also mention that Mrs. Watson's various aliases are in the database." He lamented, "And I may have taken the liberty of adding your and the Watsons' addresses just to make sure everyone is kept on their toes should something happen to me." The muzzle of Sherlock's gun wavered for a moment and Jim took advantage of it. He stepped in too close for Sherlock to shoot, aligning his shoulder with the trigger of the gun, and swept his arm upward and out to knock the weapon from Sherlock's hands. It fell with a clatter onto the train tracks and fired off another round. The bullet ricocheted and hit one of the lights above, raining sparks down on the psychopath and sociopath.

Moriarty lunged forward again and tackled Sherlock onto the tracks. The detective banged his head on the first insulator rail and immediately rolled to the side. Jim caught him from behind and kicked the back of his knees, dropping his opponent to the ground. Moriarty grasped Sherlock's hair and pushed his face towards the electrified third rail.

"The really isn't how I wanted things to end, Sherlock." He lamented. "But I suppose it's like putting a horse to sleep that's hurt its leg." He ground his knee into Sherlock's leg and watched him grit his teeth in pain. "It's more humane this way." A sharp crack struck the tracks, throwing up even more sparks.

"Get off of him!" Madeline shouted, pointing Sherlock's gun at Moriarty and unwavering determination. Jim grinned and she fired again, striking him in the shoulder. The force of the impact threw Jim backwards, and Madeline took the opportunity to drop onto the tracks. Sherlock looked at her with glazed eyes, like he thought he was dreaming.

"Are you ok?" She asked urgently, sweeping him for wounds like he'd done to her so many times.

"You were shot." Sherlock murmured.

"No, the sniper missed." Madeline said gently. She was about to reach for her gun again when a bullet hit her thigh. She collapsed with a yelp, cradling her leg with her bad arm. Jim frowned in disdain.

"Sherlock your gun pulls to the right, I missed." He complained, holding onto the gun as he made a wobbly approach. Blood was seeping through his jacket, turning the navy black. "I knew Mary wasn't reliable, I'll take care of her when I'm done with you." He oscillated the gun between Madeline and Sherlock, unable to decide who to finish.

"There's only one shot, so I'll shoot you Sherlock and do you two the courtesy of letting you bleed out together." He trained the gun on the detective, who pushed himself onto his elbows. Madeline blinked through her tears and grabbed onto his coat to pull him back.

"James. Enough." Jim's smile dropped into a scowl as he turned to face Mary. She was dressed head to toe in black, with a rifle slung across her shoulders.

"You're fired, by the way." Moriarty spat. Madeline looked between the two wildly as Sherlock's hands found her bullet wound and tried to staunch the bleeding. She hissed between her teeth and ultimately resented the sympathetic look Mary gave her.

"My contract is filled. Leave or I'll kill you myself." The assassin deadpanned. Jim snickered.

"I've got your number, love. Your information is one of the first to go viral if I die. How will your handsome and doting husband feel when he learns you've been dancing on the other side of the law again?" He asked. Mary's expression didn't change.

"I've done enough to hurt him already," She replied coolly. "I left him in the Piccadilly broadcast tower to do what you asked; but taking my daughter was a step too far. Where is Amy?" She directed her question to Sherlock.

"Mycroft has her." Madeline replied. "Where's John?" A flicker of guilt swept over Mary's face.

"I left him unconscious in the broadcast tower, no doubt he's woken up by now." She answered calmly. She turned back to Moriarty, who still held Sherlock's gun. "Drop your weapon, James."

"I don't think I will, I've got enough bullets to take care of you three." He said snidely, raising the gun in a fluid motion and firing a shot into Mary's stomach.

"No!" Sherlock shouted as she doubled over. Her gun slipped from her shoulder and dropped to the tile, only to be splattered with errant drops of her blood as she fell to the ground. Jim raised his eyebrows, obviously pleased with himself, then turned back to Sherlock.

"Back to it, then. It's been a pleasure." He raised the gun once more and pulled the trigger.

Click.

"Six bullets." Sherlock murmured in relief. Jim growled in anger and chucked the gun to the side. He limped to the edge of the train platform and reached for Mary's rifle. He'd just wrapped his hand around the stock when she wrapped her hand around the barrel. Moriarty switched his grip to the trigger and pulled it, striking her again. He dragged the gun to him and shouldered it with a grunt, then turned back to Sherlock and Madeline. Sherlock had grabbed Madeline's gun and had it coolly trained on Jim, not taking his other hand off of Madeline's leg. His eyes met Mary's briefly as she pushed herself off the edge of the platform and into Jim, colliding with and knocking him into the third rail. An acrid smell like burning plastic flooded the Tube station as Moriarty's body convulsed on the tracks. Madeline pushed Sherlock's hand off of her leg and covered the wound herself.

"Get Mary!" She gasped. Sherlock rose to his feet and limped toward the two entangled bodies. The left side of Moriarty's face was scorched from where he'd touched the track, and Mary's blood mixed with his on the ground beneath them. Sherlock knelt beside Mary and started trying to tend to her wounds; but she pushed him away when Jim groaned.

"CPR…" She whispered. "The computer…"

"I can't let you die." Sherlock told her. "John will never forgive me." She gently pushed him away again.

"Don't tell him. Take… care of Amy." She wheezed once more and fell silent, staring at Jim's body with glassy eyes. Sherlock set his jaw and pulled Moriarty off the rail and began performing CPR to keep his heart pumping. Madeline tied her jacket as tight as she could around her thigh and crawled towards them. She drew back at the sight of Mary's body, then ripped off a bit of her jacket and covered the assassin's face gently. Sherlock furiously pumped on Moriarty's chest with more force than was necessary, taking out his anger on the man and not caring how many of his ribs he broke.

A cacophony of footsteps thundered down the hall as John, Mycroft, Lestrade, and numerous armed agents flooded the platform. "John, stay back!" Sherlock barked. John ignored him and hopped onto the tracks, stopping when he saw Madeline's jacket.

"Is that-"He started off hoarsely and couldn't finish his sentence. He dropped to his knees and pulled the cloth aside, drawing in a shuddering breath at his wife's lifeless face. John made a strange sort of keening noise as he leaned over his wife's body.

"Mary no. Oh Mary, Mary, Mary God no." He was unable to keep her name from tumbling from his lips, it was almost as if he believed that saying it enough times would revive her, and they could go back to the life they'd had. Sherlock didn't stop pumping on Jim's chest. Mycroft opened his mouth to speak but stopped short at the site of the charred body on the tracks.

"Sherlock…" He spoke in a voice Madeline had never heard him use before. "What have you done?" Mycroft lowered himself into the pit and pushed his brother aside, taking over the procedure. After only thirty seconds of pumping his hands he stopped and sat back, completely bewildered.

"He's… dead." He said quietly. Madeline felt a rush of relief flood her system, only to have it replaced by fear.

"The database!" She reminded him. Mycroft set his jaw. "There's nothing we can do. It could be anywhere in the world and the information has already been released." He turned to watch his brother gently try to pull John to him; but the doctor wouldn't leave Mary's side. "Lestrade, phone the Yard and MI6. We have an international crisis." Mycroft directed. The Detective Inspector nodded and retreated above ground. John pressed his forehead to Mary's as if he could urge her back to life, still sobbing.

"Where's Amy?" Sherlock asked softly.

"I took the liberty of sending her to 221B with two guards. They'll watch her until you're ready to return." Mycroft replied solemnly. Two agents joined them on the tracks and started to lift Madeline up, but she squirmed and fought them. "Let them tend to your leg or you'll go into shock," Mycroft ordered, returning to his usual clipped tone. "I'm not opposed to stabbing you full of adrenaline with an EpiPen but it might kill you afterwards." Madeline fell silent and let them hoist her onto the platform, where another agent was unpacking a medical kit.

"John I'm… so sorry." Sherlock said, wrestling with the urge to tell him Mary's last words. John looked up at him with bloodshot eyes.

"She was the sniper at Byng Place wasn't she." He stated rather than asked. "And how Jim knew to find us last night."

"That's my assumption." Sherlock agreed. "I suspect she was the one who helped Jim out of Parliament last time too. I think her contract was unfulfilled, so she did the bare minimum to complete it. She saved our lives." John shook his head as his features contorted with anger.

"At what cost?" He snapped. "Amy won't understand that! Sherlock I loved her. She was my world." The detective inclined his head respectfully.

"I know," He said. "And I'm so, so sorry."

. . .

The hospital was loud, and Madeline hated it. It reminded her of her hospitalization when she tried to kill herself, and she tried to sleep as much as possible to avoid being aware of where she was. Her arm had been bundled into a sling, and her leg wound was sterilized and stitched up. The TV in the corner of her room continuously blared the news, relaying the various political depositions and scandals that had erupted since Moriarty's death. Madeline wasn't completely certain he was gone, even with his death being confirmed in front of numerous people in the Tube. She had the chilling feeling that he'd come back again like always, and did her best to reassure herself that she was just being paranoid. A soft knock on her door startled her out of her reverie, and Sherlock hobbled in on a crutch. He'd been relegated to the ICU for malnutrition and various injuries but seemed to be healing well. He wordlessly took a seat beside Madeline's bed and watched the news with her.

"How's John?" She asked him. Sherlock's lips pressed together tightly.

"He hasn't spoken to me. Mycroft said he came to visit you twice though." He replied.

"He did but I haven't seen him in a few days." Madeline told him, "What about Amy?" Sherlock shook his head.

"She doesn't understand. John told her Mary went on a business trip. I don't think he has the strength to explain it to her right now." Madeline stared at her sheets, she and Sherlock sat in silence for a few more minutes until she spoke.

"I'm furious with you." She said suddenly. The detective nodded.

"You have the right to be."

"I know you were trying to get Amy and I out of the line of fire but almost getting yourself killed again? I thought you'd promised to stop." Madeline admonished him. Sherlock didn't answer. To Madeline he looked extremely pale and drawn. She reached over and pressed his hand between hers and squeezed it gently. "I'm sorry, Sherlock. I know you tried."

"Not that it helped." He spat bitterly. Madeline watched his face as she carefully tried to choose her next words.

"What confuses me is why Mary didn't pull her pistol." She ventured, "She's always armed to the teeth and wouldn't have let herself be taken down so easily."

"Even experts' heads get clouded sometimes." Sherlock mumbled, "I also think she was trying to create an opening for me. If I had gotten your gun sooner she might have been spared; but I didn't want to just let you bleed out." Madeline felt a pang of guilt but reminded herself of the whole ordeal.

"I think she was ready to do whatever it took to keep her family safe." She said slowly, "But we'll never know."

"No I suppose not." They sat in silence for a little while longer until Madeline decided to change the subject.

"Have you heard from Mycroft?" She asked.

"Oh yes, he hasn't left me alone." Sherlock said dryly. "He blames me for this whole debacle."

"I think that's a bit harsh." Madeline answered, her disappointment apparent in her voice. Sherlock shrugged. "I mean it." She urged him. "Jim duped the Yard and MI6 multiple times, if you weren't going to stop him who was?"

"I suppose that's true." Madeline squeezed his hand again.

"When we are discharged we need to see John. Deal?"

"He won't want to see me." Sherlock said flatly. Madeline bit the inside of her cheek.

"When you jumped… I didn't want to see anyone either." She admitted, "But John and Mrs. Hudson were always checking up on me. We need to at least show him our support, see if there's anything we can do." Sherlock remained silent yet again. "I know your preferred way of dealing with things is to be left to yourself but John is the kind of person who needs support." Madeline added. "Please come with me." Sherlock looked up at her and she realized just how dark the circles under his eyes were.

"This isn't half as satisfying as I thought it'd be." He said, "I'd always thought I'd feel accomplished at Moriarty's defeat but not at the cost of Mary's life." Madeline leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"I know."

A.N.- Once again I apologize for the delay. I know I haven't posted in forever and a day.