Author's Note: Hey! TheSmileyFaceGuy here. Just wanted to say, before you read this, you should know that I wrote this for a friend for Chirstmas. I usually don't write this kinda stuff. Snailhair101, you're welcome. :)
Disclaimer: DO NOT OWN! I repeat, NOT MINE. That is all. :)
:) :) :)
Three years Ago
I glanced down on the fallen body of my nemesis, Jim Moriarty, who even in death, grinned up at my dilemma in triumph, as blood pooled around his head and neck. I had beaten him; had discovered a way out of his trap. But that door had been ruthlessly and permanently shut. There was only one option now. I could only hope that Molly Hooper knew what she was doing. I glanced down the building to the street below. Survivable, but distinctly unpleasant. There was nothing for it, now. Time for plan 'B.'
I pulled out my mobile and rang John. He, of all people, deserved this. A final goodbye for staying by me for so long. As the phone rang, I hoped, more and more, that he wouldn't answer. I didn't want to say goodbye, not yet.
"Hello?" It was John. Of course it was. He always answered.
"John?" I whispered, fighting the sudden rampage of emotion. I need to do this, now, for John.
"Hey, Sherlock, you okay?" he asked, a note of concern hidden in his voice.
He was good, even I would have missed it, if I didn't know him so well. I could see him, walking down the street to the hospital. Too close.
"Turn around and walk back the way you came," I ordered, "now."
"No," he argued, "I'm coming in."
No! Can't he see? He'll be killed! I can't let that happen. Not to Jawn.
"Just do as I ask," I blurted, "Please!"
I was loosing control of myself; my emotions. Thankfully, John turned and began walking back the way he came. Relief flooded me and I resisted the urge to laugh. Not now. I still have a part to play.
"Stop there," I said, my voice even again.
"Sherlock?" he said, worry clear in his voice. My uncontrolled panic must be ringing alarm bells in his lovably dense skull.
"Okay, Look up. I'm on the roof top," I said matter-of-fact. I mean, I was there.
"Oh God."
Two words. Perhaps he isn't as dense as I thought. I smiled sadly at that. With those two words he showed he understood what I was about to do.
"I...I can't come down, so we'll have to do it like this." I whispered sadly.
"Wh – what is going on here?" he asked, his voice hollow.
"An apology." My own voice was empty. "It's all true."
"What?" he asked, confusion coloring his voice.
"Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty," I said plainly.
"Why are you saying this?" he demanded, not buying my 'confession' for a minute.
"I'm a fake," I insist quietly.
"Sherlock," he growled. Oh Jawn. Always faithful. I really liked that about him. It's why I've got to do this. I suppressed a wistful smile.
"The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade; I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson and Molly...In fact, tell anyone who will listen to you, that I created Moriarty for my own purposes." I said firmly.
My hands were shaking. It had to be soon. Moriarty's men were watching.
"Okay, Shut up, Sherlock, shut up! The first time we met – the first time we met – you knew all about my sister, right?" he almost shouted at me. Was I stalling at this point?
"Nobody could be that clever," I intoned. I needed to hurry now; who knows how long the shooters would wait for me to jump.
"You could," John replied quietly.
There was a tiny hint of longing in his voice. Was he trying to stall me? No, I couldn't let him distract me. I could see that I'd have to do the one thing I didn't want to do. Jawn deserved so much more.
"I researched you before we met," I lied bitterly, "I discovered everything I could to impress you. It's a trick, John. It's just a magic trick." I finished bluntly.
I was cold. Though, not from the abysmal weather. I knew the moment was nearly here. I'd have to say it. I'd have to, because Jawn never would.
"No. Alright, stop it now," he snapped, starting to stride toward the hospital entrance again.
Blind panic shot through me. Didn't he understand? Couldn't he see what was happening? I had to protect him. I love him.
"No, stay exactly where you are!" I practically shouted.
I love him. I love John Watson. That revelation was almost as shocking as it was obvious. And now I knew; The man I love is marked for death.
"Alright," John said quickly, stopping dead in his tracks.
I still needed one thing from him. One last thing...
"Keep your eyes fixed on me," I asked. I love you, "Please, will you do this for me?" I begged.
I love you, Jawn. Please forgive me. I love you.
"Do what?" he asked quietly.
"This phone call, it's...er, it's my note," I said quietly. I'm so sorry, Jawn, I have to protect you. I love you. "It's what people do, don't they – leave a note?" I whispered. The moment had arrived.
"Leave a note when?" asked John, fear and horror in his voice.
I love you, Jawn. Please forgive me. They're going to kill you. I'm so sorry. I don't want to leave, not now...Finally, I forced it out; the last two words. My last line in Moriarty's script, even as my heart broke.
"Goodbye, Jawn," I whispered.
I let my arms drop to my sides. Faintly from the mobile, I heard 'No, don't,' but it matter. The time is now. I'm out of time to stall.
Goodbye Jawn.
I'm so, so sorry.
I never wanted to leave you.
He was going to kill you.
I love you so much.
Please forgive me.
With a deep sigh, I close my eyes and step off the roof top.