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"Sebastian Moran. You clean up well."

Sebastian's skin pricked. That voice. He hadn't heard it in three years.

"I know you hear me. Turn around."

Sebastian lowered his hand to his waist instead, feeling for a weapon. Nothing. He was unarmed.

He turned around. A man stood behind him, face familiar. He had a mop of curly black hair and stood tall, with a blue scarf wrapped around his neck.

"Sherlock Holmes. So it is you. I wondered." Sebastian pulled his jacket closer. They were in his apartment, but clearly Sherlock had the advantage. Sebastian was unarmed and Sherlock was holding a gun. The area they were standing in was clear, with nothing on hand for Sebastian to grab.

Sherlock stared at him. "I'm sorry, Sebastian, but you're all that's left. You know what I have to do."

Sebastian nodded. "I understand. I won't ask how you're alive, as I honestly don't care, and it would be useless, anyway. All that matters is that you are."

Sherlock nodded. "And very shortly, you won't be. You're my last target."

"Last? I suppose this is what you've been waiting for. All of Jim's men, all gone, and then you can go home. Home to your precious Watson." Sebastian's voice grew cold. "He doesn't know, ? That you're alive? He was your best friend and you just abandon him without so much as a reason why?"

Sherlock looked at him. "I had to. It was you yourself who would have killed him had I not jumped."

Sebastian clenched his fist. "So you're here to kill me, to make sure that I don't kill him. John. This is what the whole thing's about, isn't it?"

Sherlock's gaze didn't soften. "There are always people one needs to protect."

"And then there's the person who dies protecting them." Sebastian launched himself at Sherlock. The detective, surprised as he was, fired the gun. It hit Sebastian's shoulder as the man barrelled into him. Sebastian yelled in pain and Sherlock knocked him to the ground.

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be." Sherlock told him, standing over the man.

Sebastian stared up at him, panting hard and clutching his shoulder. "I'm the last one, you said. Once I'm dead, you can go back to John."

"Yes." Sherlock didn't understand Sebastian's tone. It was a wishful one, like Sebastian was jealous.

The injured man panted. "John will be happy. His best friend is coming back to him. He gets to wake up from the hell you threw him into. He gets you back!"

Sherlock crouched down in front of Sebastian. "Interesting. You miss Jim."

"Of course I miss Jim. He was my best friend. Behind every great man is a woman, but behind every genius is a friend who would stand by his side no matter what." Sebastian spat. "I thought John and I were similar. I felt sorry for him when he lost you, but then I understood the feeling when I found out I had lost Jim." He looked down, wincing at the pain in his shoulder. "He didn't even tell me that he was planning to kill himself. He wasn't, was he? You made him. You killed him."

Sherlock shook his head. "He killed himself because I was too clever for him. He started a game and he couldn't win. He brought it on himself."

Sebastian looked up at him with a mixture of hate and sorrow in his eyes. "He didn't even get to tell me goodbye."

"I'm sorry." Sherlock said. Sebastian smiled.

"No, you're not."

"Okay, no. But I do know how you feel. And it will be over soon." Sherlock raised the gun and aimed it at Sebastian's head.

Sebastian looked away. Before Sherlock pulled the trigger, he whispered, "John better love you like I loved Jim."

That made Sherlock pause momentarily, but then he blinked and fired.

He left an apple in Sebastian's hand before he left.

On his way back to visit Molly, he thought about Sebastian and Jim. And he wondered if John would really accept him back after all this time.

Then he remembered Sebastian's heartbreak and knew that John would. They were best friends, after all.