The chain with a lock around her neck wasn't just for show. He owned her, and she, and everyone who saw that silver locket, knew it.
She didn't know what to do anymore. All she knew was Moriarty /owned/ her; body, mind and soul, or what was left of it anyway.
Strange how love works, right?
She was tired of it the lying, the games, the fear. She used to love him, truly, she did. Then he heard about Sherlock. And her perfect little world, with her perfect little love life, crumbled.
When he finally confronted Sherlock for the first time at the pool, she knew the game was up for her.
So here she stands, on the top of the roof, next to her dead (?) husband, and wonders what happens now. Oh she watched with glee when /dear/ Sherlock fell. But she knew it was an act. Just as she /knew/ dear Jim wasn't gone.
But she would be.
She was done.
Just as she was about to step off the ledge, she felt a hand grab her by the wrist. Fearing that the drug Moriarty had taken had worn off, 'too soon' she cried internally, she froze. And was dragged from the edge of the roof, too afraid to turn around.
She needn't have feared.
"I don't believe your /loving/ husband would take kindly to you dying, my dear." A familiar voice spoke from behind her, and she instantly relaxed.
"Mycroft." She breathed, turning around finally to see her secret friend. Her /only/ friend. The one who healed the cuts and bruises that Moriarty caused, the one who stared at her now, with, not pity, but with /hope/.
She knew her time was running out. The drugs Moriarty took would wear off soon, and she had precious little time to spare.
"He was a monster." Mycroft spoke quietly, trying not to disrupt the trance that had settled over them both.
With the wind Whistling past them and the clouds forming above them, spelt a storm brewing.
"Ah, but monsters aren't so bad, you know, when they're honest about what they are. No one came to him expecting niceties." She replied, tired.
Silence.
"Let me go Mycroft. Please." She whispered brokenly, trying to tug her wrist free.
"And let you jump? I think not. I may /seem/ heartless to some, but you know better, my love."
My love.
He loved her?
Her, whom was married to the monster that lay unconscious on the ground next to them?
Her, who committed great atrocities in the name of her love for Moriarty?
Her, who watched Sherlock jump off the roof they were standing on /right now/ with glee?
Her, who loved him back?
"Please."
And with that one word, she decided.
No longer would she be Moriarty's toy.
No longer would she have to suffer the abuse, and the hurt, and the fear that she had previously suffered under her /dear/ husband's rule.
No longer would she have to kill or be killed by a insane man whose locket that chained her.
No longer would she have to pretend she didn't love Mycroft anymore.
Mycroft could see it in her eyes, and smiled. Gently tugging her arm away from the ledge, she followed easily, relief flowing through her veins. As they made their way down to the street, she smiled.
She could live. /Truly/ live.
Without fear.
Without hate.
Without death.
Without Moriarty.
She was free.
And as Mycroft gently placed her into the discreet black car parked next to the building where she was going to jump, and handed her a familiar set of keys. Keys to the locket she wore. Quietly, she pressed the keys into his hand once more, with her eyes she could see him smile almost sadly, and watched as he unlocked the jewellery piece and that controlled her life since she said, 'I do'.
She was free.