AN: My acess to my phone has been restricted do to my somewhat rapidly failing vision and thus this is the first story I have ever written on an actual keyboard, even if it a is a bluetooth keyboard hooked up to my kindle. My second non-anime fanfiction, let's see how this goes shall we?

-Story Start-

"I knew you'd fall for it. That's your weakness. You always want everything to be clever," Moriarty ranted animatedly (could you expect anything less from him?) As he walked lazily over the edge of the roof, "Glad you chose a tall building. Nice way to do it."

"Do what?- ah. Yes. Of course: my suicide."

"Genius detective proved to be a fraud. I read it in the papers so it must be true. I love newspapers," he mocked in an accent obviously created to accentuate the idiocracy of the statement before switching to his normal voice, though with a slightly darker edge. "And fairytales..." he looked over the edge. "And pretty grimm ones, too."

"I can still prove that you created an entirely false identi-"

"Oh, just kill yourself; it's a lot less effort. Women are never quite as good the second time anyways."

"What do you mean by-"

"You've known it was an option. I believe, however, you've already resigned yourself to suicide. What a shame. Too bad such a lovely face has such and ordinary mind," he shook his head and prodded her slightly with his foot. "Well go on. Off your pock."

She lashed out, grabbing him by his collar and hung him over the edge. Her features were twisted into one of about the closest emotions she would outwardly express to anything akin to rage. In fact, this normally cooly collected woman looked, in a word; pissed. Very pissed indeed.

"You're insane!"

"You're just getting that now?"

She hung him further over the edge and he made strange mock-frightened noises.

"Okay- let me give you a little extra incentive: your friends will die if you don't."

"John?"

"Not just John: everyone."

"Everyone."

"...Lestrade."

"Three bullets. Three gunman. Three victims. Nothing can stop them now."

She pulled him back up on the roof, and he whispered seductively in her ear.

"Unless my people see you jump- or going out that front door with my arm around your waist." He backed off. "You can arrest me. You can torture me. You can do anything you like with me. But nothings gonna stop them from pulling that trigger. Your only three friends in the world will die. Unleeessss..."

"Unless I jump. Complete your story."

"Well I was hoping you'd say fuck, but I've gotta admit that sounds sexier."

"And I die in disgrace."

"Well of course, that's the point," he said. He glanced down again. "Ah. You've gathered an audience... well go on."

She stepped up on the roof ledge.

"Your death is the only thing that's gonna call off the killers. I'm certainly not gonna do it."

She swallowed.

"Will you just give me a moment, please," she paused. "One moment of privacy. Please."

"...Of course." He began to walk away and she surveyed the city scene before her calculatedly. She had never liked heights. She began to laugh, muffled at at first, but it grew in noise levels until Moriarty swung around an began to stalk back towards her. "What? What is it? What did I miss?"

She turned around and leaped gracefully back onto the roof.

"You're not going to do it. So the killers can be called off then. There's a recall word, or a code, or a number." She began circling him. "I don't have to die. If I've got you," she sang the last bit. Moriarty had a look of exaggerated, over-the-top understanding as he let out an equally so "oh".

"You think you can make me stop the order, you think you can do that?"

"Yes... and so do you."

"Honey, your big brother and all the king's horses couldn't make me do a thing I didn't want to."

"Yes, but I'm not my brother, remember?"

"Oh yes, I know." He stated suggestively. She ignored him and went on in her explanation.

"I am you. Prepared to do anything. Prepared to burn. Prepared to do what ordinary people won't do. You want me to shag you in hell, I shall not disappoint you."

"Nah... you won't. You're ordinary. You're ordinary; you're on the side of the angles."

"I may be on the side of the angels," she proclaimed sagely, carrying herself much more imposing than her below average stature that placed the top of her head not quite up to Jim's shoulder should have allowed , "but don't believe for a second that I am one of them."

"No... you're not. I see. You're not ordinary," the gap between them was getting smaller and smaller by the second. "You're me... you're me! Thank you! Sherlock Holmes," he put he hand on her waist and the gap between them was practically non-existant. "Thank you- bless you." In moments they were kissing for the second time since they first met. When they finally pulled apart he held out his hand for her to shake, which she took. "As long as I'm alive you can save your friends... well good luck with that." He quickly pulled out a pistol and in a matter of seconds there was a hole in the back of his skull.

-1-1-1-

Sherlock finally succeeded in her efforts to force her serbian torturer to leave. His higher ranking officer was, apparently, Mycroft.

"Do you have any idea the trouble it took to track you down?" He began in Serbian before switching back to english, "There's and underground terrorist organization in London, and attack is imminent. Sorry, but vacation is over, sister dear. Back to Bakers street."

"Just grab the twins and off I go."

"Twins?"

-1-1-1-

"How do you have children!?"

"What do you mean 'how'? You were the one who gave me a power point presentation when I was eleven!"

"So that you would avoid such situations, and for years you led me to believe I had succeeded! Who is the father? If you don't tell me I shall-"

"Why don't you... deduce, brother mine?" Sherlock countered, glaring daggers at him. In her arms was one of the twin girls Mycroft had recently discovered she had gave birth to at some point in her two year absence. He walked over the the one in the crib. It had dark brown, almost black, hair, and Sherlock's piercing bright eyes, and well as her pleasantly contrasting pale skin. He went to the one in his sister's arms. It was identical in every way to it's sister aside from deep chocolate brown eyes. There were only two men she had ever in constant contact with at any point of her life, and concluded that Lestrade could be ruled out immediately.

"John?"

"Not even close."

"Sherlock," he began seeming both angry and concerned, "I understand that it's difficult for you to overcome your cocaine addiction, but-"

"I didn't have sex with a junkie in exchange for cocaine!"

"Then it's someone I know."

"In a way."

A look of realization hit his face and he collapsed in his desk chair, burying his hands in his face.

"I always knew there was another reason I hated him. Goddamn Jim Moriaty."

One of the twins laughed.

"Which one was that?"

"Aaralyn. The one in the crib." The other child joined its twin in laughter. "And this is Colette. Aaralyn Marie and Colette Rosalind Moriarty-Holmes."

"Oh, for God's sake," Mycroft groaned. This would be a long year.

-Chapter End-

AN: Well, I guess it turned out better than I thought it would. Hope you liked it! :D