Chapter 1: Reichenbach

I take a deep breath, preparing myself for the hardest thing I will ever have to . I realise that what I am about to do will utterly change the life I have built for myself but the wheels are already in motion and I am unable to stop it. I shiver runs through me, it is cold up here beneath the lifeless grey sky. Behind me on the wide expanse of the roof of St Bart's hospital lies the broken, bloody body of Moriarty, grey brain matter splattered across the concrete. A wave of nasua sweeps through me and I look away, swallowing hard and close my eyes for a moment. At this precise moment elsewhere in London John has probably come to the realisation that there is actually nothing the matter with Mrs Huson and is rushing back here as fast as London traffic will allow him.

I sigh and run a hand through my hair. The whole time Moriarty had been playing with me like a cat with a mouse and I, foolishly, had allowed myself to be played with, believing all the while that I could somehow find a way out. I had spectacularly failed and now have no choice but to fulfill Moriarty's final wish and jump. My fists clench and I fight against the fierce rage which rises without warning within me as I remember what the consulting criminal had told me

"Three bullets. Three gunmen. Three victims. There's no stopping them now. Unless my people see you jump."
"As long as I'm alive you can save your friends. You've got a way out."

My anger wanes a little and a strained laugh escapes me. Poor Moriarty. He had shot himself thinking that I would have to kill myself, not realizing I had one more ace up my sleeve. My pocket begins to vibrant and I reach in to pull out my phone. A flashing light indicates that I have a message and I swipe across the screen to read it.

"We're ready. - MH"

For a moment I allow myself the luxury of a small smile but it quickly fades when an image of John creeps into my head. I squeeze my eyes shut with a quiet groan. Can I really do this to John? From down on the street I hear the sound of an engine and look down to find a solitary taxi pulling to a stop to let an all too familiar person wearing a black jacket. I wait, having worked out what he is most likely to do next. On cue my phone starts to ring. My hands shake when I answer it.

"Sherlock, are you okay?" John asks, sounding frantic. He starts walking forward towards the front door of the hospital. Panic runs through me.

"No" I cry. Instantly John stops. "Now turn around and walk back the way you came." John remain silent and I fear that he will stubbornly continue to come towards the hospital. To my relief however he back away with obvious reluctance to his original spot. I take a deep breath to steady myself. Here comes the part I have been dreading the most. "Look up, I'm on the rooftop."

John inhales sharply and I see him crane his neck up. I'm grateful for the fact I am too far away to see his facial expression. "Shit." He swear softly. "What's going on?" He demands, sounding confused.

Good, he'd taken the bait. Now all I have to do is convince him that all the lies Moriarty told about me were real and that I really am a fake. "I wanted to apologize to you... everything Moriarty said about is true." My throat closes and I find myself unable to swallow probably. "Please forgive me." I say, struggling to keep my voice from shaking.

John's voice is hurt when he speaks again. "Why are you saying this?"

"I'm a fake. The newspapers have been right all along. I want you to tell everybody, Lestrade, Mrs Hudson, that I created Moriarty." Tears are now running freely down my face, adding a convincing choked quality to my voice. John is never going to forgive me for this and I can't say I blame him. I would hate him if he did the same to me

"Shut up." growls John. "Just shut up. How can you say you're a fake. When I first met you you knew all about my sister just from my phone. I was amazing, remember?" He says pleadingly.

I hang my head. "Nobody could be that clever."

"You could."

I breath in deeply and close my eyes. knuckling them with the ball of my hands. I can tell that John isn't entirely convinced which means I need to try harder because John can never learn my secret; he would reject me otherwise. "I researched everything about you before we met so I could impress you. Everything, my deductions, my knowledge is all just a magic trick." John curses loudly and goes to take a step forward. "No don't move, stay exactly where you are!" I cry.

John freezes and even though we are far apart I can tell he is scared of what I might do. A quiet sob escapes me and before I can register what I am doing I have stretched out my hand towards him. John raises his hand in response. "Keep your eyes fixed on me. Please, will you do this for me?" It is becoming difficult to remain in control of my emotions and I realize that if I don't end this soon I may very well confess everything to John. "This phone call, its my note. Thats what people do don't they? Leave a note?"

"Sherlock? I don't understand. Leave a note when?" John asks. Though he appears to sound confused I can detect a faint hint of dawning realization in his voice.

"Goodbye John." I murmur softly before tossing my phone behind me. I hear it shatter and break. There is no way I can back out now, at least no way that won't end with me exposing my greatest secret.

Dimly, as though from a great distance I hear John cry out. "SHERLOCK!" Closing my eyes I stand on tiptoe on the very edge of the roof and stare down at the pavement below. There are more people there now, all of them watching me in shock and horror. Then I lean forward and let myself fall, safe in the knowledge that the plan I made with Mycroft is already springing into action. The pavement rapidly approaches; I can't put it off any longer. Flexing my shoulders I wince a little when a pair of large white wings expand and tear through the material of my coat as though it was paper. I spread them out and gently flap them, instantly slowing my fall so I float gently down rather than smacking into the hard concrete. The moment I touch the ground Mycroft's team leaps into action applying fake blood while I slip a small rubber ball beneath my arm pit to temporarily stop my pulse. I stagger and several pairs of hands lower me carefully to the pavement, making sure to tuck my wings out of sight and conceal the rip in the back of my coat.

Footsteps hurry in my direction before a terrible heart wrenching cry tore through the air as John lays eyes on what he believe to be my broken, dead body. Through open, staring eyes I am forced to helplessly watch as John rushes over, Mycroft's team holding him back long enough to allow me to relax the remaining tension from my body.

"Let me through, he's my friend." John chokes back sobs as he struggles against the hands holding him back. With a final violent effect he succeeds in breaking their hold and falls to his knees beside me, no seeming to care about the 'blood' soaking into his jeans. He lets out a moan of pain. "No, no Sherlock! Please no!" He cries, tears streaming down his face which is twisted into an expression of utter agony. Grabbing my wrist he checks for a pulse and of course finds nothing thanks to my little trick. He lets out a quiet whimper and goes limp, allowing himself to be dragged away.

I sigh quietly. I'd known my 'death' would affect John deeply but I had never though it would destroy him. As he was lead away I caught a glimpse of his face and was shocked by the vacant look I saw there. From nearby I hear the sound of rattling wings as a medical trolley is positioned beside me and I am lifted onto it before being taken away. The last thing I see before turning the corner into St Bart's ambulance bay is John standing apart from the others with a confused broken expression on his face. The doors close behind me. The instant the coast is clear the ball is removed from beneath my armpit and I am I left while my pulse settles back to normal. Once I feel my strength has returned I sit up on the trolley and make to stand up. Instead a wave of crushing sadness washes over me and all I can do is bury my head in my hands with a quiet sob. A hand touches my shoulder and I slowly lift my head. "Mycroft." I say quietly in greeting.

My brother gives me a sad smile in response. "You did it Sherlock, you convinced John." He paused, lowering his gaze to the floor. "I'm sorry."

"It wasn't your fault brother. Moriarty is the one we should blame." I say, absentmindedly brushing at the dried fake blood that is beginning to flake away. I see Mycroft wince and I narrow my eyes. "What is it?"

Mycroft swallows nervously. "Moriarty. When my men went up to the roof to retrieve his body they found nothing but a handful of black feathers." He explains, unable to meet my eye the whole time.

I swear under my breath. Damn Moriarty. I had always suspected he could be like me but had never pursued that line of inquiry lest I be disappointed or it turned out to be a trick. Knowing he could still be alive complicated everything. Instead of demolishing his remaining network I would now have to search for him and take him down on top. My mind made up I leap to my feet, the sudden movement making Mycroft jump. I hold out my hand to him. "Farewell brother, I'll keep in touch." I say at the same time as shaking out my cramped wings.

Mycroft frowned. "What are you doing Sherlock? You said you'd wait a few days before setting off."

Gently pushing him aside I make my way towards the door leading to the outside world. "Change of plans. Now I need to find Moriarty."

Mycroft opens his mouth but then stops, knowing there is nothing he can say that will change my mind. Silently he watches my push open the doors and stand on the street for a moment, savoring the slight breeze blowing through my feathers. I give him a small wave despite the tears running down my cheeks and bring my wings down, propelling myself into the air. My heart pounds at the freeing sensation of suddenly not being subject to the laws of gravity but the joy is dampened slightly by the knowledge that I would not be returning to London for a while. Turning my back on the city I disappear into the clouds and out of Mycroft's line of sight.