Hi guys, I'm so sorry this has taken so long! I realise it's been like a year and a half (oops) since I updated, but I've been so busy and completely forgot about this! I returned to start writing another fic and decided that because this story had such a positive response that I have to finish it. I have it all mapped out in my head, so the next chapter shouldn't take too long. I'm sorry to all of you who were looking forward to me updating, I'm a terrible human being.

Love to you all,


The next few days passed mainly uneventfully, which put John on edge. No matter how much he nagged at Sherlock that they were running out of time, Sherlock would just roll his eyes and tell him that he had other cases to work on too. John was getting so frustrated that he took to spending more and more time at the surgery, mainly to keep busy and away from the impending sense of danger, but also because Sherlock was disappearing most evenings and John had a suspicion that he was seeing Irene Adler. John didn't trust her, and he certainly didn't like the idea of Sherlock spending so much time with her. He wondered if they'd slept together, if they were now in some kind of weird relationship. He wasn't really sure how it would work between a dominatrix and the world's only consulting detective, the thought made his head hurt. He'd gone for an early morning walk to fetch the paper and some milk when his phone beeped.

We're going out in 15 minutes. Make sure the milk's full fat, Mycroft's on a diet again. SH

John grudgingly obeyed his order and fetched the milk before returning back to the flat to find Sherlock pacing.

"It's fine John, we have all day. Please take your time, would you like me to cook you a full English breakfast while the countdown ticks down to 0? If we're lucky Moriarty might even put it on hold while you wait for your bacon to crisp"

John stood aghast as Sherlock stomped out of the living room and down the stairs. His drawling sarcasm was uncalled for at the best of times, but now after all of John's worrying and his secret meetings with 'The Woman', he had the nerve to lecture him about time wasting! He wouldn't rise to it. He'd let Sherlock have his childish rant.

John sat in the taxi next to Sherlock, he could feel the tension radiating off him in waves. "Where are we going this early on a Sunday?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Church. Obviously"

"Ah good, you've decided to go to confession and tell the vicar how much of a complete prick you are. I should've bought my book, we'll probably be there a while."

The journey took about twenty minutes, they passed several churches and each time John cast a sideways glance at Sherlock, but he may as well have been trying to make eye contact with a gargoyle for all the reaction he was getting. John could see a couple of nicotine patches poking out from under Sherlock's sleeves, he was more stressed than usual. It was going to be a long day.

Eventually they arrived at St. Saviour's, which was packed full of people and surrounded by flowers, messages and various religious symbols. John cursed himself for being so slow, of course they were attending a Sunday service at the victim's church. Sherlock had his acting face on, it often made John wonder why Sherlock hadn't decided to take to the stage. It also made him wonder if his sociopathy was also just an act, but then he remembered the time he caught him dissecting 's grand-niece's Guinea Pig on the Kitchen table and thought otherwise.

"John, act sad, we need to find Matthew Forster's brother. He's bound to be here, I did some research and he's religious too. He might be able to give us some answers"

John tried his best to put on a face of mourning, but it was nothing compared to Sherlock's Oscar winning performance. Tears were already beginning to stream down his face and his hands were even shaking. John concluded that he had to be a show off in every aspect of life. They sat through a long service led by an ancient looking woman who talked at the pace of a snail on depressants, John glanced over to Sherlock several times expecting him to have his usual look of disdain plastered on his face, but was shocked to find he was still a figure of grief. He was playing his part well, the woman sat next to him even offered him her handkerchief and he sung the hymns enthusiastically in his baritone voice. They hung back after the service and waited to talk to a man who had been sitting on his own and was now surrounded by people all offering their condolences. Sherlock waited until everyone else had left to approach the man and talk to him.

"Hi there, I'm so very sorry" Sherlock's words were barely audible, he was playing it shy. "You must be Matthew's brother. My name's James, I was a friend of his, he did my wife's funeral service last month. A beautiful ceremony, led by a truly wonderful man. And now this" Sherlock buried his head in his hands and Matthew's brother placed a hand on his shoulder.

"There now, I know it's difficult but we have to trust in God's plan. Your faith will keep you strong"

Sherlock looked at him and smiled. "I just.. I just didn't see it coming you know? He was such a happy man, and then to take his own life? I'd only heard from him a few hours before he.. he…" Sherlock burst into a fresh round of tears "he sent me a text." Sherlock reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. "I was wondering if you could help me? He sent me a very strange message and I can't quite make out his meaning, being his brother you might know what he meant by it" John watched as Sherlock handed his phone over to the man, the text simply read '4 5 7', and watched the stranger's face furrow in concentration. Then after a couple of minutes he nodded sadly and handed the phone back to Sherlock.

"If thou be the Son of God, cast thyself down from hence: For it is written, He shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee: And in their hands they shall bear thee up, lest at any time thou dash thy foot aga…"

"OF COURSE!" Christ, I'm an idiot!" Sherlock snapped out of his act and raised his fists in the air. His sudden bout of blasphemy caused the people left in the church to turn around and shake their heads, Matthew's brother evidently thought him a lunatic. He wasn't far off. Before he had chance to say anything, Sherlock was striding out of the church, John trying to catch up and make some sense of the situation. Sherlock was too busy typing away in his phone to answer any of his questions, so they jumped in a taxi and headed back to Baker Street in a frustrating silence, unaware that there was another package waiting for them.