Jim changes his offer to Sherlock on the roof of the hospital. Smut and violence to come later (like the next chapter). Sherlock x Moriarty. I don't own anything here. Feel free to read and respond. Thanks!

I'm waiting…

-JM

Up on the rooftop of Bartholomew's Hospital Sherlock glared menacingly at his arch-nemesis as he explained how his entire plan had played out.

"You know," Jim Moriarty continued his long speech, "I was going to have you end this story up here, today. I can see though that today isn't that day. Oh well." The consulting criminal looked out into the distance of London while rubbing his face before turning back to the detective. "The game isn't over just yet. You know, Sherlock, I was going to have you jump? Of course, you probably knew. Now I know though that, that won't be enough." Jim came uncomfortably close to Sherlock's face before quietly saying, "Not for you, and not for me." Jim backed off and continued animatedly pacing about the rooftop as Sherlock looked on.

"I've always been a little jealous of your house pet, John- I think I may just get one myself. And I've decided it's going to be you, Sherlock." As he said it Jim looked at a shocked Sherlock with a half-smile. He looked like a snake in the grass waiting to attack its prey. "You're going to come away with me. You'll be mine."

"What makes you think I'll just go?" Sherlock snarled back at the villain.

"I can make you Sherlock, or else you can say goodbye to those closest to you."

"John?" Sherlock asked breathlessly as he began to feel his insides turn.

"And the others…"

"Mrs. Hudson…Lestrade," Sherlock realized.

"Three snipers, three bullets, unless…"

"Unless I go with you…"

Sherlock felt his body tighten. He hadn't expected this. He had known Jim would have him fall to end his story. The signs were all there for him. Sherlock had had Molly help him find a way to survive the fall to make his death appear real. Moriarty had come along and had flipped the plan on its back.

He didn't know what to do. Sherlock was out of plans. He needed time to think. He couldn't risk John, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade's lives over this though. He had to protect them.

Jim smiled wickedly seeing Sherlock's reaction to his latest change in plans. "How's about this," Jim interrupted Sherlock's thoughts, "I'll give you six hours to mull this over on your own, yes? After those hours are up I'll get to you. You can tell anyone you like. They won't stop me. You can run as far away as possible. I'll find you. There's no escaping me. You will be mine, Sherlock."

Sherlock still hadn't responded as he pondered in his head.

"I'll see you in six hours. I won't be late," Jim enunciated the last few words carefully. Moriarty began to make his way toward the stairs, but stopped before descending them. "Oh and try to not get yourself caught by the police? It won't halt me, but it'll make for such a predictable story of breaking you out."

Sherlock heard the door to the stairs open and close. He exhaled knowing he was finally alone.

Six hours…there were six hours.

His clock said 15:18. He had until about 21:15, well into the evening.

He sat on the roof of the hospital. There had to be a solution. Perhaps he could have Moriarty collect a fake Sherlock. It would never fool him though. The only way Sherlock could get out of this and not endanger the few people he cared about was to practice patience. He would have to go with Jim and devise a plan of escape that would ensure the safety of John, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade.

At some point in the afternoon Sherlock left the rooftop. He took a cab back to Baker Street to find John just leaving the flat they shared.

"Sherlock!" John breathed a sigh of relief at seeing his friend was alright. "I know you may not care, but Mrs. Hudson is just fine. Nothing happened to her. Are you sure you should be around here? You know, with the police searching for you?"

Sherlock smiled slightly at John before leading him back into 221 B Baker Street. He wouldn't tell John, Sherlock decided, that he was to be taken away.

John watched Sherlock with a look of slight confusion as he continued through the day as though it were normal. "Are you sure you're alright?" John asked. Why would Sherlock just be sitting around in the flat while there were problems to be solved? He still had to find a way to stop Moriarty. He had to clear his name. He had to solve the case about the children who were kidnapped. John was irritated for once by his friend's rare moment of lethargy.

"Yes, John," Sherlock sighed in relief as he stuck a nicotine patch to himself to help him think. He closed his eyes to continue pondering as he sat in his usual chair.

John gave up and began to read the day's paper, waiting for Sherlock to eventually blabber on with whatever his latest findings were.

Tick tock.

The clock seemed to awaken Sherlock from his thinking. 18:36, it read.

He noticed John fixing tea in the kitchen.

"John," Sherlock said suddenly as he stood. John jumped from Sherlock's sudden return to the "real" world. "Come on, we're getting dinner."

John was slightly confused, but assumed it was a part of one of Sherlock's cases so he went along with him.

For once Sherlock ordered food at dinner, even though he simply picked at it. John didn't seem to notice Sherlock's unusual break from habit in actually ordering food.

Perhaps one of my last meals, Sherlock thought glumly to himself.

He looked about the small pub scanning it for small hints, clues, problems, and solutions. He watched the people, observing each of them finding their secrets and flaws. The figure in a small chair by the corner made him inhale abruptly from surprise. Jim Moriarty sat comfortably in the chair on the other side of the room reading a newspaper titled, "Amateur Detective Sherlock Holmes a Fake?" Jim put the paper down slightly to smile smugly at Sherlock. Jim tapped the watch on his wrist before pulling the paper back up to hide his face.

Sherlock looked at the clock on the wall hesitantly reading 19:58. There was a little more than an hour left.

John had failed to notice any of this as continued talking about his most recent girlfriend and how confused she must be by the stories in the news about them.

"John, it's time for us to leave," Sherlock interrupted.

"What? Why?" John asked looking down at his half-eaten sandwich.

"No time to explain, let's go."

Out on the streets John asked, "Are you going to tell me anything? What's going on Sherlock? You've been acting strange all night. Does this have to do with a case or something?"
Sherlock hesitated before answering, "Yes. It is very important that I return home to think. I-I may have found a way to prove Richard Brooks is a fake."

"Do you want me to take a different cab? So you can think?" John asked testily.

"Yes…" Sherlock said before entering the cab to leave John back at the pub to call his own cab. Sherlock was lying to John. He had no solution. What else could he have said though? John was suspicious.

His watch read 20:08. "Stop here," Sherlock ordered the cab.

It was 20:42 when Sherlock reentered 221 B Baker Street. John was already home writing his blog. "Where were you?" John asked when Sherlock stepped in.

"Rosin," Sherlock held up the small box for the bow of his violin.

"Oh John?" Sherlock asked as he rosined his bow up to play, "Think you could run to the hospital? I left some files for this case by the lab."

"At…" John looked down at his watch, "20:55? That's late."

Eventually John went down to get the files that weren't there.

Fifteen minutes to get there. Ten minutes to search for the files until giving up. Three minutes of phoning Sherlock to ask where the files were more specifically. Five minutes of more searching in vain. Fifteen minutes to return back to 221 B Baker Street.

Yes, Sherlock thought positioning his bow on the string, he would be long gone with Moriarty by the time John returned.

Time seemed to move slowly as Sherlock played the violin waiting for the time. He had nothing to think about this. At this point there was nothing he could do. He had to be patient.

Between rests in the music Sherlock listened for any unusual sounds, but heard nothing. Then his phone buzzed on the arm of a chair.

Beautiful tune.

Time to go.

-JM

Sherlock took a deep breath to prepare himself.

As he departed 221 B Baker Street he felt a tap before his body and face made contact with the cold sidewalk. Then he felt nothing, but cold darkness.

Thanks for reading! I know it's short but the next chapter is longer I promise. Feel free to leave me any suggestions or thoughts!