Sherlock stared blankly at Moriarity. Not moving for fear of what could happen next. The rifles were still pointed directly at John and Him."I really am sorry, Sherlock. I would have really enjoyed you being on my team, but I suppose pets are more important." "He's no pet, Jim. If anyone has the characteristics of a pet it's you, you mongrel." Sherlock replied sternly. "Sherlock, stop it!" John cried. John was obviously shaking. He was terrified. Terrified of having to watch his partner die. His life seemed meaningless compared to Sherlocks. This beautiful man standing in front of him. Prepared to fire a bullet straight into Moriaritys heart, knowingly killing himself if it would give John the time he needed to escape. Sherlock would do this for John any day of the week, and John knew it. He didn't want it. He wanted to be the one to die.
Sherlock was the worlds only Consulting Detective. He was important. He had a purpose. But what about John Watson? What was his purpose? Sherlock. Sherlock gave him meaning. He gave him a reason to keep going. He was the cure John needed in his darkest hour. " I love you," John said out loud without even realizing it. Sherlock could feel his heart skip a beat. "Oh! The pet loves his master, how sweet." Moriarity butted in with a disgusted tone. It was then that Sherlock felt the need to move. He moved to stand behind John, hoping that if any bullets should fly they would not hit John. "Kill me." Sherlock said calmly. "NO. WHAT THE BLOODY HELL, SHERLOCK?" Johns heart was pounding. Everything felt surreal and he felt he may pass out. "No, Sherlock you can't!" tears were falling now. He could feel the heat of them flowing down his face. "John. I love you. I've never loved anyone before, and I've never been loved either. If this is going to happen, I want you out of here. I want you to know how much you meant to me. I want you to live. I want you to be safe. The world can do without me. I'm a sociopath that no one even likes, but you...you are so much more than I could ever be." Sherlocks words were shaky but John could hear the sincerity behind every single syllable.
"Oh for the love of god. If he means that much to you, sweetheart I can let him go." Moriarity was actually considering this. Of course he was, the fucking mad man. John tried to speak but he couldn't. He just sat there on the floor frozen. This wasn't happening, he tried to assure himself. He was back at 221B with Sherlock. He was typing up something on his blog about something interesting Sherlock had done or said that day while Sherlock was shouting at the telly. Yea. He was there.
"You have my word, Jim, if I have yours." Sherlocks words only made John realize that he wasn't back where he wanted to be most. What was he doing? The tears were still falling from Johns eyes and he began to openly sob, not caring about anything else. If he was about to lose Sherlock nothing would matter anyway.
"Oh sure, Sherlock. I'll give you my word." His voice reminded John of a snake hissing in your ear.
With that Sherlock simply nodded to Jim and lowered his gun. He leaned down to grab Johns face. John looked up at him, shaking and damn near screaming through a stream of tears. "YOU CAN'T!" John felt so powerless and small. He felt like a dragonfly having it's wings ripped off by little children. Moriarity was the child, ripping away Sherlock. His wings that helped him fly. His salvation. He didn't want to acknowledge what was going on. This was a dream.
"John." Sherlock now had tears flowing from his eyes. "I love you. Never forget that. I love you. I love you." He pressed a sweet quiver of a kiss to Johns lips before letting go to face Moriarity.
"Get him out of here" Moriarity gestured to one of the many men holding a rifle. The man came over to grab John and take him out of the building. Sherlock and John locked eyes before the man got a hold of John and started dragging him away. "Sherlock! SHERLOCK!" Johns voice trailed off. Sherlock stood there staring at the ground, tears still falling straight down his face, no longer trying to hold in his loud sobs.
"He'll be taken care of? You won't hurt him? No one will bother him, you swear it?" Sherlock demanded, still crying.
"My goodness, what kind of man do you think I am? I swear it. I always keep my word. Besides, with you out of the way, I won't have to worry about John Watson anymore anyway." Moriarity replied, with a very pleased tone.
"Go on with it then." Sherlock demanded, closing his eyes. Not to wait for the bullet that would soon hit his heart. He wanted to see Johns face one last time. He eagerly reached out a hand, as if to caress John in his memories. He never understood how such a wonderful man had come into his life. Sherlock Holmes. The worlds only Consulting Detective. No one to work with him, talk with him, share with him. No one to call a friend. But John Watson was more than a friend. He was simply his. His John Watson. And with that thought he smiled.
The shot being fired was silent. But Sherlock felt it. Only for a second before he faded into nothingness. His last thoughts being of Doctor John Watson. The man who saved him from loneliness. The man who made him feel human. Loved. Beautiful. The only person in the world to make Sherlock Holmes feel like he mattered, and not because of his intelligence, but just because he did.
And John was still out there.