A/N: Hello again, everyone! Here is the tenth chapter of my little story. Please do not forget to read and review! Thanks!

EternalDoclight: LOL. Thanks! ^_^

Starknight: I agree; being called a "rotting old man" and getting knocked out is not my idea of a good day either. Thanks for the reviews!

Note: (*) is an author note. Scroll down to the bottom of the story to read them.

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Chapter Ten: Battle of Wits

Slowly, the world began to return to Javert. The murkiness of unconsciousness began to lift from his mind and allowed him to focus. Instantly, the old inspector smelled the rot of something not very far from him. There was a loud dripping noise coming from where ever he was that echoed overwhelmingly and gave him the sense that he was in some type of dungeon. Javert found that he was in some type of chamber, almost like a cell that had been recently constructed, as it had vertical metal bar door.

'Like the ones in the prison,' Javert thought to himself. The old man tried to move, but found himself tied to a chair, his hands tied behind his back, and then another rope tied around the middle of his body. He didn't feel the slight pressure of the communicator on his wrist or the ionizer in his pocket. He therefore assumed that these items had of course, had been confiscated.

Javert snorted at this. In January of 1832, he had captured the extortionist Thenardier and his group, who had lured Jean Valjean into a trap. While the ex-convict had slipped through his fingers, the inspector found how the old 'gentleman' managed to free himself. On the floor was a pair of what looked like cufflinks, but was in fact, a tiny saw; Valjean had dropped them in his haste to escape the police, he supposed. Javert had actually marveled at the tiny invention, and had a pair made for him, should he have had ever been in the same situation. 'Thank God I thought of that,' the inspector thought as he struggled to loosen the little makeshift saw. Much of the strength he had left seeped out of him as he tried to open the cufflinks. But at last, Javert finally released the chain and began to cut through his bonds. Coughing and fighting away severe dizziness, he willed himself not to lose awareness again, Javert sliced through the thick bonds at his wrists, praying that he would be capable of liberating himself before his captors returned.

The door opened with a loud report that made Javert raise his head quickly and groan as it throbbed mercilessly. Two bright lanterns were being held by two figures. One looked like the minion, a short almost-hunched man with flame-colored balding hair and grayish skin. The man was in the company of another who was tall, had salt and pepper-colored hair and was wearing what looked like the fashion of the 19th century. Beside him was a man he recognized immediately.

"Monsieur Holmes!" he exclaimed, surprised. When the old inspector looked at the detective, he noticed that his eyes were glazed over as though he were in some type of trance. Turning to the tall man, he snapped, "What did you do to him!"

"Tut, tut, that's not a proper introduction, is it?" said the man with the saltpeter hair.

"I am Inspector Javert of the Paris Police and I demand to know what you did to him!" Javert half-yelled; he didn't have the strength to shout any louder.

"There now, that wasn't too hard, was it?" the tall 'gentleman' said with a chuckle. "I am Professor James Moriarty. Mr. Holmes is under MY control, Monsieur, watch!" And with a nod of Moriarty's head, the detective came forward and raised his hand back. A moment later, Javert felt the heat of a horrible sting coming across his own face. The action made the old man's head throb even harder.

"Holmes! S'il vous plait! (1) Pour quoi? (2)" he mumbled.

"I told you, Holmes is controlled by ME. There's nothing you can do to bring him out of it," Moriarty said.

"Well, I may not be able to have power over him, but I DO know where he is. By knowing that, I have set the police on your track," Javert snarled. "I sent a message to Inspector Lestrade informing her of my location. They will be here any moment now." He continued to saw through the ropes, feeling them loosen as they were severed.

James Moriarty laughed heartily. "My dear man, the police are not going to arrest me, for you see, THEY have no authority in the Underground."

"They will once you're dead," Javert replied with a grim smile.

"Then the police will have my blood on their hands. Besides, I have already sent a message to MISS Lestrade, using Holmes' voice. I told her that I would be up top soon.

"Yes, but IF you -- pardon, MR. HOLMES, doesn't show up, they'll be suspicious," the old inspector pointed out.

"I won't have to worry about that, my good man."

Javert snorted, "Inspector Lestrade may be a woman, but she is not stupid. How will she not notice his silence and his misted eyes?"

"Mr. Holmes will appear, but he'll capture Lestrade before she even realizes what has happened!"

Javert sneered. At that moment, the bonds on his wrists fell to the stone floor in tattered pieces. Javert stood and withdrew a small revolver that was hidden deep within the folds of his greatcoat. It was so cleverly hidden that no one except himself knew about it. "Striking me wasn't a good idea, MONSIEUR Moriarty!" the old inspector exclaimed.

The professor smiled maliciously. Holmes, at Moriarty's command lifted the ionizer and prepared to shoot. "Fire, Holmes!" James Moriarty commanded; the detective stood stock-still. "FIRE!" The professor screamed even louder. There was a moment, and then by the light of the lamp, he saw Holmes whirl around and pointed the weapon at Moriarty.

Holmes grinned. "The game is up, Moriarty!" said Holmes in his normal tone. Javert too lifted the pistol so that it was level with the criminal's heart.

Moriarty stood dumbfounded for a moment, then cackled. "Ahh. Now, THIS is a challenge! I WAS hoping with a duel with one, but I am faced with two. Tell me Holmes, how DID you escape the control of the Crimenotizer?" (3)

"It was very simple, Moriarty. But I will not explain it; I think I would like to leave you to figure it out." It was when Javert felt a sharp burning in his shoulder that made him dropped the pistol, which disappeared into the darkness. He noticed that the rat-man was missing. Cursing himself internally, he whirled around and found Moriarty's assistant pointing an ionizer at him.

"I wouldn't move if I were you!" the rat man hissed. Javert heard the thick French in his accent and grimaced.

"Monsieur, why give up your French pride for this scum of an Englishman?" he nodded to Moriarty.

"DON'T TALK ABOUT MY MASTER THAT WAY!" the grey man bellowed, brandishing the gun again at Javert's heart.

"Ah, well, like master like minion," the inspector said calmly, "both rotten to the core."

The angered minion fired but Javert was quicker. With one swift step, the old man dodged the oncoming bullet and was in reach of the rat man. The inspector quickly wrapped his massive hand over the minion's and pried the weapon out of the man's hand. Another quick motion and the inspector had the rat man's arm twisted behind his back, and was holding the ionizer.

"What say you now, Monsieur? Not so proud now, are you? Ha! Do you yield?" Javert exclaimed all this with a triumphant smile on his face.

"Never!" the man yelped. The minion stomped on Javert's boot, making the old man releases his grip. Javert gasped as a powerful blow to his ribs sent him flying backwards, causing him to strike a wall. His whole upper body seemed to be on fire as his vision was starting to become indistinct. Breathing heavily, he watched as Holmes grappled with Moriarty and his minion. Sherlock Holmes managed to knock the rat man unconscious, leaving him only to grapple with his nemesis.

Moments later, Javert felt the ground beginning to shake underneath him. Heavy slabs of pavement from the ceiling started to litter the floor around him. Looking over at the young detective, Javert could see that he and Moriarty were fighting. Holmes was battling with his walking stick and his nemesis with his fists.

Holmes cried out, "Monsieur, GO! I will handle Moriarty!"

"But-" he began to protest.

Holmes said sharply, "GO!"

The roofing was falling in huge chunks as he scrambled to his feet and headed to the exit. By the light of an abandoned lantern, Javert could see his weapon. Picking it up, he aimed towards the criminal, who was in full view and could, at that moment, be taken. Javert prayed that he would not shoot Holmes in the process and pulled the trigger. The bullet grazed the villain's arm, but left him shortly off balance, giving Holmes a chance to overtake his opponent. He heard voices and ran as fast as his injured body would allow him to run. The light of an "illuminator" caught his attention; seconds passed and Inspector Lestrade, Watson, and the teen-agers came into view.

Javert sank to the ground as they ran up to him. He felt HORRIBLE! The old man's breathing became even shallower; his face was covered in icy sweat.

"Javert! Where's Holmes?" The woman asked in a hurried tone,

With the last of his strength, he turned and pointed to the direction in which he just came. "There," he whispered, and then collapsed into the robot's arms in a dead faint.

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To be continued.... One more chapter to go, folks!

(1) S'il vous plait: Please!

(2) Pourquoi?: Why?

(3) Crimenotizer: a machine in the 22nd century that turns regular people to criminals.