Thanks for clicking on this! Anyway, there will be a story as the chapters go by, but the next few chapters will be the sort of "what goes through my mind" kind of thing, on the events of the cliffhanger in TGG. I can promise there will be a "what happens next" as well, with a few surprises.
Don't own! No point suing, I haven't got that much money, being a student. Enjoy!
All the knowledge in his high-functioning brain, all of the experience he had, all the cases he had solved ranging from the easy ones to downright crazy, were useless in the eerie pool room. His eyes never left the dark, cold, malicious ones before him. The red dots roamed his body but never left him, ready to pounce when those dark eyes signalled them to. Never in his life had Sherlock Holmes hated someone so much as he did then. But not because of all the things Moriarty had done to him, "making him dance" as he earlier only minutes ago, but not it seemed like hours. Everything happened so quickly after that.
Seeing John walk into that building, his face calm but something else was combined also. Sherlock was not a man for feelings, but the feeling of betrayal was still fresh in his mind when he thought that John was Moriarty. How had John done this without the great Sherlock Holmes seeing it? How had he planned all those murders, kidnappings and all matter of crimes with him not deducing it? But when John opened the bulky coat and he saw the bomb strapped to him, he felt guilty for ever thinking that John betrayed him, tricked him in anyway. That guilt had been suddenly replaced by fear, because that bomb could go off any second and kill the only friend he had. He had acquaintances, Lestrade for instance, and he remembered asking John once which enemy John had spoken to.
"Normal people don't have arch-enemies" "And what do normal people have in their daily lives?" "Friends, relatives, boyfriend, girlfriend..." "Dull."
Everything normal Sherlock saw as being dull. But he had come accustomed to living with Doctor John Watson, their friendly banter only occasionally becoming serious. The way John saw things, the fact that he always helped him out in whatever case he was solving, came to his defence when things turned bad but also scolded him for being his usual arrogant, rude self. The things Sherlock did still fascinate John even though he'd seen him do it countless times, as if it was still the first time. Sherlock did like the compliments John gave him for his deductions.
John was a friend, whether Sherlock wanted to that very first time they entered the flat. Seeing the bomb strapped to John like a jacket ignited in Sherlock unknown feelings of fear, fear for someone he cared about. Meeting the mysterious Moriarty for the first time did not interest him so much as seeing John look scared and ready to be blown up at any time. Sherlock had glanced at him several times while still keeping an eye on the mad, singing Moriarty coming ever closer to him. Luckily he had thought to bring John's gun as mere seconds after Moriarty walked in instinctively reached for it. He wanted to hear what Moriarty had to say, but was more worried about John than anything else. He had brushed off the threats on his own life, only for John to place his life for Sherlock's. Sherlock had been stunned at that moment, despite John pleading him to run, he couldn't move. Everyone wanted something from Sherlock- his mind. But John seemed to care more for his life, to place it before his own as if he was someone important or worth something special. John had quickly let go of Moriarty as he saw the red dot shining from Sherlock's forehead.
More words were said between Sherlock and Moriarty but he barely took notice of what before Moriarty quickly left. "Catch...you...later" "No you won't!" The sing-song way Moriarty uttered these words echoed around the room. The only thing Sherlock could think of at that moment was to rip that bomb attached to John and to fling it away from them, which he did. Sherlock couldn't utter the words that were formed in his mind. Thank you. John always knew how to lighten a mood and as they both chuckled the red dots that had threatened them before returned with a vengeance, as if they'd been cheated before of the life they were supposed to take.
And here was Sherlock now, staring daringly into Moriarty's nonchalant expression. Sherlock couldn't deduce much, as Moriarty was a master of puzzling him. But that nonchalant expression hid what truly lay beneath, the anger and the disbelief that Sherlock was in front of him, the ugly mouth of the gun he's held from the start pointing at the bomb. Those cold, dark eyes seemed to think that he wouldn't dare blow up the building, clearly killing them all. But Sherlock was already one step ahead of him as he had signalled John what to do next.
Nothing in Sherlock's entire life prepared him for this moment. But he was Sherlock Holmes, the world's only consulting detective. He was intelligent, deductive, enigmatic, resourceful, dynamic. He was not going to lose. He was going to win. He had seen tonight that he had feelings, and it gave him courage to do what he was supposed to do.
One final smile towards Moriarty.