FRAUDE MAGICA
PROLOGUE
The ground beneath his feet is shifting, the cracks giving way to a dull light that shears at his eyes as the place he stands on vibrates a tremulous tune. He tries to look up at Sherlock from where he stands, the man is on the rooftop of a crumbling building- the only structure in this place- but it is too dark, and not even the light from the cracked pavement can help him see.
In this bleak place there is no sense of dimension, and yet, even then, he cannot climb up those withering steps, that go on up, and up, and up, to reach Sherlock before he meets John at ground level and all is lost as always.
He tries to speak to the darkness; to reach Sherlock with his voice alone, to say something clever even though he was the last to speak before, but the detective cuts into his thoughts.
"Nobody could be that clever" He says, and John shouts, "You could" because there isn't anything else he can think to say, except the plain, unadorned truth.
The ground is cracking and parting and he is becoming farther away from the one he is trying to save, but even here he is running behind and the gap is too wide now and he knows he won't make it this time.
He has never made it so far.
Sherlock gives a small, sad smile, and then the building; grey and a sickly green, is suddenly flooded with light from above. It is floating apart from the bottom to the top as though it were only made of paper, and it all seems to flow right around and past John, blinding him from seeing Sherlock for what seems like an eternity. But though the bottom of the building crumbles, St Bart's Hospital still stands, because in this place, it is only there for one purpose.
The paper-like pieces from St Bart's make a detour to circle around his arms and chest and legs, and then harden and encase him with a vast speed, but he finds that it isn't needed to keep him grounded where he stands. With Sherlock up there, and the realization of what he is about to do, his nerves have become rigid, his body unmoving anyway.
"I researched you." Sherlock's voice echoes, and suddenly the entire area seems so small, like the detective is everywhere, behind him, above him, trying to hypnotise him into a synchronized speech of lies that Moriarty has given him no choice but to sing of.
The building is finally starting to tilt, and John looks into those grey eyes that somehow shine bright against the bleakness of the reality they stand before, and he sees something rare.
He sees the panic in them, and his urgency to complete his intentions battling with the tears that cloud his eyes-
-and John wants to scream but his lips, though free from the restricting pieces of the floating building, won't move.
"Before we met I discovered everything that I could to impress you. It's a trick..."
The building cracks on the end opposite from where Sherlock stands, with a hand to his ear. His lips purses thinly as his eyes leave his for a moment to look down at the cracking abyss before them both, as almost a quarter of the building makes its fall all around John. His grey eyes tear away from the ground and he looks at John straight in the eyes, with such conviction that John feels the thumping in his heart stop, as the pieces of the building shatter around him.
"It's just a magic trick."
This story is based on a theory I briefly read about "Reichenbach Falls". I am half asleep coming up with this idea so pardon the spelling errors, I'll try have it fixed tomorrow. Reviews are always appreciated. 3