Never Again

Chapter one- The Final Curtain

Hey guys! So this is my second fanfiction ever! And i'm uploading this because i lost a bet to a certain friend *cough* Katie *cough*. Anyways i hope you enjoy reading this and please leave a review especially if it destroys your soul (mwahahahahaha i'm so evil :) )

i should probably also mention there will be a second and final chapter i'm currently writing and i promise will be done by next week so get off my back *cough* KATIE *cough*.

Oh well. Enjoy. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock or any of its characters (waaaaahhh)

"Don't you dare… Don't you dare you crazy bastard, you'll die!" John yelled.

But it was too late. Sherlock had hung up. His mind was set. This would end everything. With Moriarty finally gone, the threat of another war would be gone too. But the only way to make that happen would be to… No. It has to be done. It will be done.

John raced down the street. The idiot had punctured his tyres and Mary… No. This was between him and Sherlock. And it will stay that way.

But it would bloody well help if I had a car. John thought. But he continued to race on, ignoring the temptation to limp.

Meanwhile…

A dark corridor. Two figures stood silently facing one another. Each at a different end of the long corridor. They were so distant they could each see only the other's outline. They stood there, like two black silent shadows.

Suddenly one of them shrieked with laughter. "Did you miss me? Did you miss me?" It jeered while the other remained silent. Its shrieking laughter echoing down the corridor.

It shrieked again before running off up the stairs. The silent one followed in quick pursuit, the only sound being their footsteps as they got closer and closer to the rooftop.

John had finally reached his destination. Panting heavily, he looked up. Towering above him was a five-storied abandoned office building in the center of London. From the rooftop, all of London would be in view.

One month ago, James Moriarty had hacked national television and made his comeback into this world. He had come back from the gates of Hell and clawed his way back to the top of the criminal underworld. While he was busy with that, John Watson had to put up with an insufferable Sherlock Holmes. For one month, Holmes had done nothing but run round 221B Baker Street, pausing randomly before shouting out an absurd solution to their even more absurd problem. Ever since that night when Moriarty exposed himself to the world once more, Sherlock had been following this routine. He was worried, John could see that. He didn't know what to do, and he made sure everyone could hear that. John had come in one morning to find Holmes banging pots and pans together. Apparently he was trying to drown out an incessant noise which seemed to be all in his head. But all that was irrelevant now.

John stood there looking round frantically for some sign Sherlock was here. That he was alive. That he hadn't done something crazy. But then he saw him, then he screamed, and then came a loud thump shortly followed by another…

The two figures, with nowhere left to go, had stood facing each other once more on the rooftop of the abandoned building.

The figure nearest the edge had opened his arms wide and grinned, "Well… Did you miss me?"

The second figure – who stood further away in the center of the square rooftop-, seemed resigned. They stood still, silent.

"Oh dear, I was hoping for a much better reaction than silence."

"Silence suits you. Silence is an empty void in which nothing can be changed; much like my disgust in your reappearance." The second figure snarled.

"So you did miss me. But what are you going to do now?"

"I'm going to finish what you failed to do two years ago."

"Aw, are you going to pull out a little toy gun and shoot me?" The figure mocked.

"On the contrary," The figure paused and breathed in deeply before continuing. "Every fairy tale needs a good old-fashioned hero. You need me or you are nothing."

The first figure's eyes slashed in surprise and the second figure lunged at them. They were suddenly locked together in a ferocious struggle, a struggle that finished when the edge was behind them. And then they were falling, falling.

The second figure closed his eyes and waited. He braced himself.

And then his mind palace shattered…

William Sherlock Scott Holmes was lying on the cold pavement of London once more. But this time James Moriarty was lying beside him. Both unmoving. Both cold. Both never again making a return.

John Hamish Watson had seen everything and was powerless in stopping it. Once they had collided with the cold, harsh ground time slowed to a standstill.

Onlookers turned, shock and horror written on their faces. They pointed and gasped but only Watson moved.

Only Watson knelt beside the broken body of the greatest man that had ever lived.

"No… No. You can't! You can't be dead! It has to be a trick! Sherlock Holmes you bastard, tell me it's a trick right now!" He screamed.

But there came no response. And he knew deep down, that this was no trick. That he really was gone. That never again would Sherlock Holmes walk the earth. Never again would they see each other's smiling faces.

"I loved you…" John whispered, tears flowing down his face.

And then the ambulances came. And then they were gone…

So yep, part one of two. Two coming soon. Please leave a review and be honest when telling me what you think! Alright then, later!