A/N: Well I am sorry to say this is the last chapter for this bit of fun. I don't want to jump the shark anymore than I already have with this one– Know when to walk away! (Ooo – how cliché!)

Thanks again to all the great reviews & follows & favourites –thanks to MoonImp, sheholmes, AhoyAmelia, DhampireRose, Catindahat, breathing is-over-rated, Guest (thanks for the great review!), PaidynDark, Hephaistos, Zephiera, enthusiastic-idiot, sasunaru03x04, aimeejade92

If I forgot someone please forgive me!

Big thanks to ThisDayWillPass & Lucy36 for multiple reviews & fun chats.

To J & S for laughing in all the right places.

And of course to the gang at I'll Be Mother (go read our stories!)–johnsarmylady, jack63kids (all questions answered) & AlessNox! You guys are the best!

Warnings – some swearing (natch) – yelling – a tiny bit of blood.

Opening scene slightly inspired by Indiana Jones & the Last Crusade – my son was watching while I was typing!

Don't own!

Chapter 6. The Dealin's Done

Two Weeks Later

"John!"

"What?"

"John!"

"What?"

"John!"

"Sherlock! What is it? I can't see you but I can hear you quite perfectly, thanks! In fact you are yelling in my ear!"

"I'm sorry, but it is rather urgent, seeing as how we are tied to these chairs back to back, with little hope of escape. I feel that this may be the end and I wanted to get something off of my chest before we succumb to whatever fate these terrorists have planned."

John sighed, "That was rather flowery even for you! And not your usual style – all melodramatic. Dramatic yes, but usually with out the melo."

Silence

"Sherlock? What did you want to say?"

…

"I'm not certain how to phrase this. I'm afraid you will hate me."

…

"Sherlock, I won't hate you. Yes, you can be an annoying dick sometimes, but I like you. You're my best friend, despite the fact that I work for you. And since we are in our last moments, don't you think you could tell me whether or not I have worked off that debt? It would be rather nice to know that I didn't have any unfinished business with you."

…

"That'swhatIwanttotalkabout."

"What? Did you just mumble? You never mumble!"

Through gritted teeth, "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. If you would shut up for a moment I have something to tell you."

…

…

"Sherlock?"

"SHUT UP!"

…

"I cheated."

"Cheated? Cheated what?"

Sigh

"At cards. The night I won. At Stamford's. I cheated."

…

…

…

…

"John?"

…

"You cheated?"

"Yes, John."

"You. Cheated?"

"Yes, I believe I said that."

"YOU CHEATED!"

"Now really John! You don't…"

"You great big, pompous arrogant arse! You cheated! At cards? And you have been lying about it all this time! Ever since?! And you put me through hell, telling everyone you won me?"

"Now John, I haven't said that for a while. Besides, people thought it was funny!"

"YOU cared what other people thought! About that! You thought that was funny! You are the most annoying self-centered prat I have ever had the privilege to meet!"

…

"I am sorry, John. It seemed like the logical choice at the time."

Sigh

"Why, Sherlock? Why did you do it?"

…

"May I ask you a question first, John? Before I tell you?"

…

"Okay."

"Do you regret it? Working for…with me?"

…

"No. I can't honestly say I regret it."

He felt Sherlock's head go down in relief? Acceptance? Hard to tell when he couldn't see his face. Funny, he thought Sherlock could probably tell. He on the other hand was feeling an overwhelming number of emotions at the moment.

"If it's any consolation to you it was really all Mycroft's fault."

"How the hell is that a consolation? He's an interfering git, but I doubt he planted 'Go play poker, cheat at cards & win an ex-soldier just for laughs' in your thick head! Why the hell am I not surprised by any of this!?"

"Well he threatened to cut me off and to force me to move in with him if I didn't get a flatmate. Oh and someone to keep an eye on me. Make sure I behave myself."

"Keep digging."

"Pardon?"

"That hole you're making for yourself. Keep digging it."

"Oh? Oh!"

Silence

"Do you want to hear about it?" Almost wistful.

Sigh

"Yes. I suppose I do. And don't try to guilt me with that tone. I do not for one second believe you are sorry."

"Well I am. Sorry that is. But John, you should know that I also don't regret my actions. Because…."

"Because why Sherlock?"

"Because it led to you becoming my friend."

John nodded slowly. Yes, when all was said and done really there was that.

"Okay. Shoot."

"Shoot what John? I don't have a gun."

John's turn to grit teeth, "Tell me the damn story."

"Oh! Right! I went to Stamford's that night to research poker playing for a case. I had mentioned something to him about wanting to play poker. Stamford been speaking about some friends coming over and I was welcome to join them. He also knew I was looking for a flatmate. He didn't mention you in particular, but when you walked in I surmised that he had you I mind. So if it makes you feel any better you could, in theory, blame Stamford as well."

"NO. It does not. Make me feel better. There is only one person at fault here."

"Yes. Of course. Well when I saw you come in I deduced you. Do you remember what I said to you?"

"Of course I do Sherlock. What you had said that night was…amazing. It stuck with me, that you could know so much about me so quickly. And of course having seen you do it so many times since…well I was and I am amazed."

"Thank you John. I meant it. I knew when I saw you that you were perfect. For me. To go with me on cases. You are a doctor, you were in the army, you'd seen a lot of action and gruesome deaths. I knew you'd keep up. You were not unintelligent. I figured we would get along all right. And I knew you needed me too."

…

"John?"

"Thinking here, Sherlock."

"Oh, right."

"So you cheated?"

"Really John, you can be so dull sometimes."

"Not helping your case. How? How did you do it?"

"Slight of hand, stacking the deck, tells of course. Just…just magic tricks really and observation."

"Oh."

"Are you angry?" Again with the wistful tone.

"I…I don't really know. Maybe disappointed is a better word. I would like to think if you had asked me, straight out, it would have worked. In fact I'm pretty sure you could have convinced me in a relatively short amount of time to move in with you."

…

"No, Sherlock. I'm not angry. I told you once before you helped me, you healed me. I wouldn't be where I am without you, you daft bugger."

Sherlock believed him. He could hear the tolerant affection in his voice. He would really have to make it up to John. It was too bad they weren't going to get out of this alive. He could, just, with some careful maneuvering, wiggle his hand a bit and touch John's. Their arms were tied tightly to the outside of the chair, but their chairs were tied together. He reached. He found the other's hand and he gave his fingers a little squeeze. John squeezed back.

"It will be okay Sherlock."

Trust John; always looking out for him, making sure he was all right.

"Umm Sherlock?"

"Yes, John?"

"Don't be upset. Okay?"

…

"Why would I be upset?"

"I just remembered something."

"What is it?"

"There's a pocketknife in my back pocket."

…

"You mean to say you have been sitting there, all this time, with the means to enable our escape and you forgot!"

"Well, ummm, I'd blame the blow to my head earlier and your confession just now, but well…yeah. Besides I don't think I can reach it."

"I might be able to. Left or right?"

"My left, your right."

"Yes thanks, I wasn't able to figure that out for myself."

"Sorry."

Sherlock wiggled his hand a bit more, trying to loosen the ropes they were tied with. After an extraordinarily lengthy amount of time he was able to inch his hand over to John's back pocket. He wiggled a bit more, but it was still out of reach.

"What if I tried to shift over a bit? Think you could reach?"

"Perhaps."

John wiggled to the side and Sherlock was able to touch the top of John's pocket.

"A bit more, John."

John leaned over a bit more. The chairs began tilting.

"Wait! I've thought of something. Lean over more!"

"What? Why?"

"We'll both do it. Maybe the combined weight of us landing on the floor will help loosen the joints on the chair, if we hit it hard enough. The chairs are wooden and they are old."

John thought for a moment.

"Okay, but go to my right. I don't want to land on my bad shoulder."

"Right. On three, lean as far over as you can. We will have to rock. 1…2…3."

They both leaned and rocked. The chairs tilted and fell to the ground with a heavy crash. Sherlock yelled as his head smacked on the ground. Air rushed out of his lungs. There was silence from the other chair.

"John?!"

…

"John!"

"Mmmff. Yeah, I'm here. Just bashed my head. Made me blackout a bit. Wonderful! Now both shoulders hurt. Damn!"

"See if you can wiggle more."

The glue holding the chairs together was old and the force had knocked some of the joints out of alignment. It helped to loosen the ropes. Sherlock was able to reach John's back pocket. He wiggled his fingers down and felt something metal brush against the tips. He wiggled a bit more. And finally reached the pocketknife. He pulled it out and it opened with a snick.

"Careful there! It's sharp," John said as Sherlock began sawing back and forth against the ropes near his hand.

"That was the general Idea!"

"I know that! I just didn't want you slicing my hand!"

It took more time than they really wanted it too, but eventually Sherlock was able to slice through enough of the rope so they could throw off the rest. They each used the knife to cut through the rope around their legs and suddenly they were free. Each turned around to see if the other was alright.

John noted the new bruises forming on Sherlock's face where he had been punched. Sherlock noted the blood at John's temple and the possible signs of concussion. But they were both relieved the other was okay. A slight grin played about John's mouth. Sherlock's eyes gleamed. John then nodded and they set to make their way out of the building where they had been held.

"We must contact Lestrade as quickly as we can. And I suppose my brother as well. They need to know the terrorists plans as soon as possible."

"Right."

They slowly left the building, carefully watching out for signs of those that had captured them earlier. Eventually they were able to contact Lestrade and Mycroft and both were there when the terrorists were brought to justice.

All was right in London once again. For the moment anyway

oOo

"But I don't want to!" Came the whine.

"You promised."

"I've changed my mind!"

"You owe me."

"But this is juvenile and degrading."

John just raised his eyebrows at Sherlock.

"Yes. Your point?"

"If I do this we will be even?"

John thought for a moment. And then he grinned his lightening quick grin.

"Possibly. We'll see how well this turns out."

Sherlock looked at his blogger, his flatmate, his partner in work, his best friend, the man he could no longer claim as poker winnings. If this would make John happy and call things between them even, who was he to argue?

…

He was bloody Sherlock Holmes, that's who. No way was he going to do this.

"Oh for Christ's sakes Sherlock, just get it over with already!" huffed Lestrade impatiently. He, for one, thought Sherlock was getting off easily, especially with everything he'd put John through.

"Oh all right!"

Sherlock climbed up on a desk in the middle of the office of the Homicide division of New Scotland Yard.

He muttered something under his breath.

"I'm sorry. We did not hear you," said John sweetly.

Sherlock sighed.

"Fine!"

…

"I'm Batman!"

Cheers and laughter rang though the workspace. Multiple camera flashes went on and on. Check YouTube for the video.

Sherlock jumped down and went to stand in front of John.

"Satisfied!?" Sherlock almost sneered.

John grinned at him.

"For now Sherlock," And John stepped closer, right into Sherlock's personal space. His grin turned fierce, the kind of grin that made subordinates in the army know they were in deep shit with Captain Watson. "But if you ever lie to me again, if you ever avoid telling me everything that goes on in that brain of yours, especially if it concerns me, there will be hell to pay."

He paused, "You do realize that, right Sherlock?"

Sherlock looked down at the shorter man, who suddenly seemed so much taller to him. His eyes glittered in the light from above. A strange glitter. One that was not particularly comforting.

"Yes, John. I understand."

"Good," In a louder voice, "Who's up to going to the pub? Sherlock's treat!"

There were more cheers and laughter and affirmatives. Sherlock just sighed.

"Happy?" he quietly asked John.

"With you Sherlock? Always!"