Okay! The conclusion you have all been waiting for! Or at least my version. Cheers and as always, please R&R whether you like it or not, I would LOVE your input. Any Supernatural or Doctor Who fans out there? I'm cooking up a couple other stories as well! Thank you so much for sticking with me through this story. My dear readers and reviewers made my first!fic very excitng!

-o-O-o-

Chapter 10

Sherlock tried to get dressed but evidently Mycroft had warned the hospital staff that they needed to watch him quite closely and a nurse scolded and tucked him back in tightly. But he could help, he could see something they couldn't see. Frustrated he leaned back.

Damn Mycroft too. Sherlock was surprised that his dear brother hadn't berated him in person yet. The extra security measures were nice but Sherlock wanted to be out there.

He breathed deeply, appreciating what that felt like and remembering, in great detail, the pain and even fear of their experience earlier. Sally was his saving grace. Without her he might have just bled to death, never waking from the fall.

Lestrade and Scotland Yard were most likely in close pursuit. Maybe around one of Reynolds' warehouses? He wished he at least knew more about what was going on without him. He looked at the clock on the wall. Ten minutes had passed since Lestrade and Sally left. God, was that all? He hated waiting.

After another painful 35 minutes John ran in with his cell phone. "They got him Sherlock! One officer down, just injured. Lestrade is taking him away now!"

"Who?" Sherlock questioned quickly.

"Reynolds Sherlock, Jesus Christ, who else?" John huffed out.

"No John, who was injured? Sherlock asked again.

John looked surprised then smiled. "Patterson." Sherlock relaxed and John smiled even bigger. "Not Sally, she's fine. They had to hold onto her to keep her from punching Reynolds square in the face."

"Very well... John stop looking at me like that." Sherlock scoffed.

John shook his head. "Fine, fine. Patterson should be here soon, I'm going to check where they are going to have him."

Sherlock grunted his response and John walked out.

-o-O-o-

After that life got back to normal, Sherlock was released and recovered quickly. John fussing over him constantly. Reynolds was given 4 consecutive life sentences, the evidence against him was astounding and Sally testified so Sherlock didn't have to. He would have dreams, nightmares really about Reynolds. He would wake up and have to catch his breath, like he was holding it somehow. Sally would have dreams too, and she would call Sherlock at 4 in the morning. He didn't mind, he was usually up anyway. It was a comfort to them both that the other understood, truly understood, the awfulness of the situation.

"You were dead and no one was coming." Sally continued. "I was screaming at you until I couldn't anymore then I felt myself falling and I woke up." Sally sighed. "Bloody serial killer." He would just let her talk while he worked on his experiments.

Soon Sherlock started to get bored again, and the clients from John's blog complaining about missing cats and obvious affairs trickled in.

On more interesting cases, Lestrade called Sherlock in. Sally was always happy to see him. She walked over to brief him and gave him a small side hug, lingering next to him. He thought about pulling away, but it was nice. Sally moved away only to grab a file and fill him in on the case they were stuck on.

"Simple." Sherlock scoffed. "Check the bins at the airport. Quickly since pick-up is in..." He looked at his phone for the time. "Two hours."

Lestrade didn't even argue. "Alright guys, you heard him. Get a team together and get out there!" He shouted, across the room.

"Trash bins, damn it!" Sally laughed. "Alright Freak, we'll call you if something else comes up."

"If you must." Sherlock rolled his eyes then smiled as he headed out. On the way to meeting John for lunch his phone rang. 'Mycroft Holmes' read on his screen. "Damn it" Sherlock mumbled then answered.

"Today isn't my Birthday brother dear." He quipped. Silence on the other end. "Hello?" Sherlock held his phone out to check the connection. Full bars. "Mycroft?" He could hear breathing on the other end. "Mycroft!?" He raised his voice into the phone, worried now. His brother was a tit, but Sherlock couldn't stand the though of him being in trouble.

"Sherlock." Mycroft finally answered. His voice shook slightly, trying to calm himself. "Brother mine, I do hope you are feeling well after your unfortunate ordeal." The small talk was wearying.

"I'm fine, top surgeons you sent me." That was Sherlock's implied 'Thank you.'

"Yes, the top indeed." Mycroft continued and sighed. "I am sorry I didn't visit you in person while you were recovering. I managed to get into a bit of a predicament actually. Can you fly out to the states?"

"What?" Sherlock questioned, it was strange for his brother to ask for a favour like this. Usually it was a command 'on behalf of the British Government.' "What's going on? Where are you?"

"Well, it appears I am bait." He heard a fist contacting with his brother's face and an pained grunt from Mycroft.

"Stick to the facts" a distant voice commanded.

"They want you brother, keep away, it's a tra..." Mycroft was cut off and the voice from before came on more clearly. Sherlock's heart was beating so hard now it was nearly deafening."Your brother is a bad man." An american voice recited. "You're going to help us fix his mistakes. If you don't come, he'll be dead in 84 hours. Come to Durham, North Carolina. We'll be in touch."

Click.

-o-O-o-

THE END.