Eastern Winds (JohnLock)

Chapter 22 - Addresses

A/N: So guys it's the easter holidays now, so I've spent the first few days sleeping-apologies for taking forever with this, it is my first one so I wasn't sure how much time I would need (apparantley more than expected) but we're getting so much closer to the end! Hope you're still enjoying the story...

-Edenx

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John's P.O.V;

After our uncomfotable chat with Greg this morning we set straight to work. We had narrowed down Moriarty's loacation to a handful of adresses. The anonymous 'children's authour' was possibly residing in 465 Towler End. 72 Somerset Way, 324 Churchill Road or 6 Quarry Hill. Now it was down to us how fast we got him to -as Sherlock would say- "come out and play."

God knows I'm ready to kill the bastard, this is the man who stopped me and Sherlock from being together for 2 years, imagine where we could be now if he hadn't of torn us apart in the first place? Would we be married? Have kids? Who knows. All because of one mans greed, he wasn't going to share his toy. Well too late. His toy is mine now, and he is never going to play with Sherlock again, not on my watch. I am a soldier.

Straight away Sherlock knew that the adresses on Towler End and Churchill Road were not an option for Moriarty, the area's they were both in were more or less povety stricken, the two authours in those residences were too poor to tend to the needs of Jim Moriarty's lifestyle. Leaving only 72 Somerset Way and 6 Quarry Hill. Both in the same area in London, well know for their private estates and extremely efficent security, this suited Jim. He would never live a half life when he could sit each day in a luxurious home with Vivienne Westwood suits and Armarni shoes galore. There was one thing you could guarantee with Moriarty and that was he was to look impecable. He would have an immaculate appearance, a fresh and slightly crisp suit (worth more than all of my jumpers put togeteher). He would dress to the nines to nip out for a loaf of bread., so why would his housing be any different? The man was to spend every waking minute in this home, it wouldn't be shabby.

With only two adresses to go through we inspected each file containing the blue prints to the houses and the estates that they were part of. It seemed that both were equally as easy to get into aslong as we had a helping hand from Mycroft. We were handed the files of the two authours who lived in the two properties. The first man, Henry Bishop had been writing for a number of years, a childs authour, yet sometimes crime novels(that look extremely ineresting may I add.) The Second was a man named Rupert Stevens. He was soley a child's authour, like Henry, he had written a handful of stories such as sir boast-a-lot. I pased on the file to Sherlock before retreiving my coffee. As his eyes were scanning the page he gasped beside me. Before I was even aware of myself moving my hand was on his thigh and I was invading his personal space. "Are you okay, love?"

"John. This man, Rupert Stevens. He is the one." I stiffened in my seat, not removing my hand from Sherlock's leg.

"And you know this because..."

"Sir Boast-a-lot. That story was written specifically for me." The file containing the information was placed gently on the table as Sherlock moved his hand so that it was on top of my own, keeping my holding onto his thigh. "John, when he was preparing for my fall," I winced and he just grabbed onto my hand, it was his turn to comfort me now, "he had given me a ride in a cab - I was unaware he was the driver, after all you remeber from our first case together how easily cabbies can conceal themselves - during the cab ride he played me a short video, It was Richard Brook telling the story of Sir Boast-a-lot, it was me. I'm the knight he was talking about. This Rupert Stevens has to be Moriarty's allias, how else could he have known? Detective Inspector, John, if you will excuse me, I must go and speak to my brother."

Sherlock stood up leaving me and Greg to start discussing the plans which needed to be made.

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Sherlock didn't return after twenty minutes which was odd. The man would often disappear in the blink of an eye but his phonecalls with Mycroft were always abrupt, no longer than necessary. Despite the brotherly love evident between them they refused to show it, and with that thought I excused myself and went to look for Sherlock. I found him stood at the end of an empty hallway with his back facing me and his hand pressed up against the glass of the window with his forehead resting upon it merely staring out at the london 32 floors below him. I walked and stood beside Sherlock, taking his hand that had stayed by his side in my own whilst mirroring the detective pressing my free hand on the window. I wasn't sure what to do in this moment. We were about to go and face the one man who had continued to cause us pain and fear for years but this time we were truly together, in every sense of the word.

Sherlock's thumb caressed my knuckles as our fingers remained intertwined, It was now clear to me he was not looking over London as I had first thought, but with his eyes closed he was in his mind palace once again. I loved to watch my detective think, it made him look beautiful. His brow was slightly furrowed while his eyes remained closed meaning that his long eyelashes softly rested on the cheekbones I crave, my gaze continued to roam reaching his incredible jaw line. This lead the way round to his lips. The lips which sent sparks of electricity through me each time they met my own, the lips which fascinated me each time they spoke, the lips so perfectly shaped they formed a small cupids bow on the mans face. All of his beautiful features that made the man who stood beside me were of course framed by the untameable dark chocolate curls.

I will always marvel at the beauty of the man who chose to love me but now was not the time to continue. I treasured each moment I spent with him, but the noise of the elevator arriving at our floor and the distincive sound of an umbrella hitting the ground approached us it was a matter of seconds before Mycroft greeted us. "Good Morning Little Brother, John. I think we have buisness we must attened to, let us hurry. I have an appointment I would rather not have to call of this evening with an... old friend, if you will. I would prefer not to cancel so we should hopefully have Moriarty in dealt with before hand."

We follwed Mycroft back to Greg's office where we began to plan the fall of James Moriarty.