Chapter 10: 1-6-10

"Sherlock." Emmaline breathed a sigh of relief when he stepped out of the door with the painted 'S'.

"Emmaline." In one-step, he had crossed the hall and encased her in his arms.

She buried her face in his chest and he nestled his into her hair. John stared at them sadly, understanding his friend more deeply than he ever had.

Lestrade came striding down the hall, a glass vial in his hands.

"My men just arrested Billy Zane and got this off of him. It's the antidote – we are starting to administer it now."

John breathed a sigh of relief. Sarah would be all right.

"What happened to you three?" Greg asked, looking between John and the embracing couple.

John pulled the officer over and calmly explained what had happened, and that a man was in desperate need of medical attention in one of these rooms.

Lestrade looked at Sherlock and Emma, then back to John.

"So you know about Jonathon now do you?"

"What, how did you know?" John asked incredulously.

"Emma asked me to be the Godfather." Greg explained simply.

John sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He would never get used to 221B and the lives of its inhabitants and cohorts, no matter how much he immersed himself in it.

Lestrade gave them each a curt nod before rushing down the stairs and speaking hurriedly into his radio.

"I have to go find Sarah." John told the couple. "I'm glad you are safe, Sherlock."

"I'm glad you're alright John." The younger man told the elder, lifting his head. "You are alright aren't you?"

John smiled and nodded his head before he raced off after Lestrade.

Being alone gave Sherlock the ability to fully examine Emmaline from head to toe.

"Why do you have a gun, and why are you covered in blood?" He asked quickly, not bothering to deduce anything about the situation. He needed to hear it from her, not allow his brain to guess it.

"I shot him. I killed him Sherlock."

Sherlock looked his wife in the eyes, where fresh tears were making their way down her bloodstained cheeks.

"And he didn't…do anything. He didn't touch me." She reassured.

"You're not just saying that?"

"No."

Sherlock could see that she was telling the truth; that there was now a burden lifted from her shoulders. He wrapped her in his arms again and buried his face in the crook of her neck.

"I will never let anything happen to you. Not ever again." He whispered.

"Sherlock what did he want from you?" Emmaline whispered, pulling back from his embrace.

"He wanted to know about Jonathon."

"And what did you say?" She asked carefully.

"What he wanted to hear."

Emmaline grabbed her husband's hand and, without a word, pulled him down the museum stairs. She handed the gun to an officer and shook her head when he looked about to say something. She continued to walk with Sherlock, guiding him out of the building and down the street.

"Where are we going?" Sherlock asked, seeming to notice for the first time that he was moving.

"Right there." Emmaline pointed her free hand at a small church down the street.

"Emmaline I can't…" Sherlock halted mid-step.

"Can't what? Light a candle for your son?"

Sherlock saw the determination written in her gaze and her steely tone. There would be no arguing with her tonight. So he let himself be dragged into the empty church and up to the front dais where matches and unlit candles waited.

"You don't have to pray Sherlock."

Emmaline lit a match, her hands shaking. Sherlock covered her hand with his and she looked up at him in surprise.

"We should light it together." He whispered.

She nodded and they lit the solitary candle. Emmaline leaned back and pressed her palms together, her head bowed. Sherlock sighed but did the same. He really was not sure what he was supposed to be thinking. He did not believe in a God, or any higher being.

On the other hand, it was comforting to think that someone was watching his son while he could not. My baby boy…my son. I am so sorry that I could not protect you. I wish…I wish you were still here.

Emmaline watched as a few tears poured from her husband's eyes. He did not cry so easily, and especially not in front of others. Emma was not sure whether to acknowledge his tears or not. He decided for her.

Sherlock reached a hand out to cover hers and squeezed. Emmaline squeezed back affectionately and helped him up from his knees.

"I want to visit his grave tomorrow." He whispered.

"Okay."

"And I want John to meet him."

Emma held his hand tightly; she knew that a bit of affection was all he really needed right now, though he would never admit to it. Sometimes all he needed was to know that someone was there who cared about him.

"So much sentiment lately." He commented, wiping his wet eyes.

"There is nothing wrong with sentiment Sherlock; it is what makes us human." She reached up to wipe away a stray tear. "And loving a child is nothing to be ashamed about."

"No, it's not." He decided.

Holding hands, and feeling lighter, they walked out of the church and back down the street to the museum.

"Thank you." Sherlock said.

"For what?" Emma asked, not sure what had warranted his thanks.

"For loving me."

Emma smiled sadly. "You have said that before."

"And I meant it. I have been awful. But…you stayed."

Emma shook her head. "No you were being Sherlock. And that is who I fell in love with."

"You did not fall in the love with the monster – and that was who I was after Jonathon died."

"Sherlock I fell in love with every part of you – the detective, the junkie, the man. Yes I hated you for acting the way you did, but I understood it."

"I was awful and selfish. Sometimes, I forget how you and John have changed me. Sometimes I revert and for that I apologize."

"Don't. That's the man I fell in love with."

They reached the museum in time to see Billy being put in the back of a police car.

"Oh and Sherlock!" He quickly called.

Sherlock and Emmaline turned their heads to see the young man grinning wickedly from ear to ear.

"Moriarty sends his regards." He laughed gleefully as Sherlock paled and turned around.

"Sherlock who is Moriarty?" Emma asked.

"No one. He is no one." Sherlock ushered his wife inside. "Let's find John, shall we?"

Sherlock would not admit to her that he was worried. The consulting criminal had given him quite the respite since the pool nearly a year-and-a-half ago, but it looked like he wanted to play again.

It would seem then, that the Game is on.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it! Please review with any comments/questions and I hope you stick around for the rest of the series!