Sherlock walked into the pool, his eyes scanning the empty room. "Brought you a little getting to know you present." he said holding the memory stick in his hands. "Oh, that's what it's all been for isn't it? All your little puzzles, making me dance." He slowly turned in a circle, his eyes searching. "All to distract me from this."
The sound of a door opening echoed loudly through the room. Sherlock turned expectantly towards the person.
He then felt his heart stop and his mind start to race. John Watson stood there in a parka with his hands in his pockets and a blank expression on his face.
"Evening." John said indifferently. "This is a turn up, isn't it Sherlock?"
"John." Sherlock breathed as he turned to face the other fully. Disbelief, betrayal, distrust raced through him. "What the hell?"
"Bet you never saw this coming." John said almost softly. A few seconds passed as Sherlock's mind remembered past conversations, searching for a hint of what he was seeing now. Suddenly John opened the parka to reveal the bomb strapped to him. Realization and slight relief came to Sherlock as John said "What would you like me to make him say next?"
John was silent as he listened. "Gottle o'gear. Gottle o'gear." he repeated.
"Stop this." Sherlock ordered.
"Nice touch this, the pool. Where little Carl died." John continued monotonous. "I stopped him. I can stop John Watson too. Stop his heart."
"Who are you?" Sherlock called out, turning wildly.
A different door opened and a man in a suit walked out grinning. "I gave you my number. I thought you might call." the familiar voice of Jim said. "Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket?" he asked motioning with his head towards Sherlock. "Or are you just happy to see me?"
Sherlock drew the gun out and pointed it at Jim. "Both."
"Jim Moriarty. Hi." he raised his voice for the last word. He almost frowned when there was no reaction from either men. "Jim? Jim from the hospital?" he probed. "Huh, did I really make such a fleeting impression?" He grinned once more. "But then I suppose that was rather the point." As he spoke he had been walking around the pool towards them.
Sherlock chanced a glance at John, who had remained stony face with his gaze downwards, and got his second shock for the day. There was a red laser from a rifle aimed directly in the center of John's forehead. Sherlock turned his gaze back to Moriarty.
"Don't be silly." Moriarty chuckled. "Someone else is holding the rifle. I don't like getting my hands dirty." he said coming up to them with his hands in his pockets. "I've given you a glimpse, Sherlock. Just a teensy glimpse of what I've got going on out there in the big bad world. I'm a specialist, you see. Like you."
"'Dear Jim, Please will you fix it for me to get rid of my lover's nasty sister.' 'Dear Jim, Please will you fix it for me to disappear to South America.'" Sherlock repeated from memory.
"Just so." Moriarty said.
"Consulting criminal." Sherlock breathed. "Brilliant."
"Isn't it?" Moriarty said pleased. "No one ever gets to me. And no one ever will."
"I did." Sherlock said readjusting his grip on the gun and keeping it pointed at Moriarty.
"You've come the closest." Moriarty agreed. "Now you're in my way."
"Thank you." Sherlock said.
Moriarty gave a short shake of his head. "Didn't mean it as a compliment."
"Yes you did." Sherlock said.
"Yeah, okay, I did." Moriarty confessed after a moment. "But the flirting's over Sherlock. Daddy's had enough now!" he said in a sing song voice. "I've shown you what I can do. I've cut loose all those people, all those problems. Even thirty million quid just to get you to come out and play." He stopped now in front of them. "So take this as a friendly warning, my dear. Back off." He stopped for another moment before gleefully saying "Although, I have loved this. This little game of ours. Playing Jim from IT. Playing gay. Did you like the little touch with the underwear?"
"People have died." Sherlock reminded him.
"That's what people DO!" Moriarty said screaming the last word.
"I will stop you." Sherlock informed him.
Moriarty gave a small chuckle. "No you won't."
Sherlock gave a half glance towards John. "You all right?"
When John didn't answer Moriarty said with a smile "You can talk, Johnny Boy. Go ahead."
Sherlock took the memory stick and held it towards Moriarty. "Take it."
"Hm? Oh, that." Moriarty said taking the stick and throwing it in the air slightly before catching it again. "The missile plans." He kissed it lightly before sighing. "Boring! I could have gotten them anywhere." Without another glance he threw the memory stick into the pool.
As Moriarty walked closer to Sherlock John suddenly came to life as he threw himself over Moriarty and held him in a tight grip.
"Sherlock, run!" John ordered.
"Oh, good!" Moriarty said obviously pleased. "Very good."
"Just like that Mr. Moriarty." John said. "Pull that trigger and we both go."
"He's sweet; I can see why you like having him around." Moriarty said to Sherlock. John also glanced towards Sherlock and his grip loosened when he saw the red dot that was now on Sherlock's head. "But then people do get sentimental about their pets. They're so touching and loyal. But oops!" He glanced back at John grinning. "You've rather shown your hand there, Dr. Watson. Gotcha!"
Not taking his eyes off of the red dot now on Sherlock's forehead John slowly slid off of Moriarty.
Molarity brushed his hands down the suit to smooth the wrinkles. "Westwood." he informed them. "Do you know what happens if you don't leave me alone, Sherlock? To you?"
"Oh let me guess." Sherlock said. "I get killed."
"Kill you?" Moriarty repeated. "Eh no. Don't be obvious. I mean I'm going to kill you anyway someday. I don't want to rush it though. I'm saving it up for something special." he said as he placed his hands in his pockets. "No, no, no. If you don't stop prying I will burn you. I will burn the heart out of you."
"I have reliably informed that I don't have one." Sherlock said.
"But we both know that's not quite true." Moriarty said smiling. "Well, I better be off." he clapped his hands once. "So nice to have a proper chat."
"What if I was to shoot you now?" Sherlock inquired. "Right now."
"Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face." Moriarty said, making a mock surprise expression. "Because I'd be surprised, Sherlock. Really I would. And just a teensy bit disappointed. And of course you wouldn't be able to cherish it for very long." He smiled as he walked to the door. "Ciao, Sherlock Holmes."
"Catch you...later." Sherlock said slowly as he followed Moriarty with his gun.
"No you won't!" Moriarty sang back just as the door closed.
John immediately gave a sigh of relief as Sherlock jumped to him and frantically almost ripping the jacket off of John. "Alright?" he asked. When John didn't answer he asked more urgently "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine." John managed to say. Sherlock finally managed to get the bomb off and threw it to the side. "Sherlock. Sherlock!" John fell to his knees as they gave way and leaned against a wall for support as Sherlock ran to the hallway to check if Moriarty was still there and returning almost disappointed within a few seconds. "Are you okay?"
"Me? Yeah. Fine. Fine. That ah-" Sherlock attempted to talk clearly. "That thing you did. That you, um, you offered to do. That was, uh, good."
John let out a small chuckle as he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. "I'm glad no one saw that."
"Hm?" Sherlock intoned distantly.
"You ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool." John said looking at Sherlock. "People might talk."
"People do little else." Sherlock said.
They both began to laugh lightly as they glanced at one another. Immediately all trace of laughter was gone as they noticed the red lasers had reappeared and were covering their entire bodies now.
"Sorry boys!" Moriartys voice called out once more as he reentered the room. "I'm soooo changeable! It is a weakness with me." he was almost laughing. "But to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness. You can't be allowed to continue. You just can't, I would try to convince you. Everything I have to say has already crossed your mind."
Sherlock gave a small glance at John. Their eyes connected for one moment before John nodded.
"Probably my answer has crossed yours." Sherlock said as he turned and aimed the gun towards Moriarty before he repositioned its aim down to the bomb laden jacket that was still on the ground.
Moriarty was still smiling; it was obvious he didn't believe Sherlock would pull the trigger.
Sherlock allowed one moment of regret for bringing John into this situation before he pulled the trigger. The moment he had pulled the trigger he registered John throwing himself at Sherlock to knock the both of them into the pool.
The next thing Sherlock knew was water, a deafening blast, the smell of smoke filling his nose right before the smell of the chlorinated water replaced it.
There was a burning pain for a single moment before everything went black.
All the years Greg Lestrade was on the police force and all the scenes he had been called only a few threatened to make him spill the contents of his stomach. One was the murderer who had strangled a man with his own intestines. The second was the school shooting that left nearly fifty students dead.
This however was slightly more personal.
Swallowing back the bile that was rising in his throat he forced himself to walk forward and take in the damage. The roof and walls had collapsed, the debris lying everywhere. Pipes had burst leaving the entire place practically flooded.
He had been forcing himself to breathe through his mouth. Now he closed his mouth, swallowed, and inhaled.
The smell of chlorine immediately filled his nose, gagging him momentarily. And the smell of blood just barely noticeable. If one didn't notice how the water was stained pink with the color darkening closer as they got to where the pool once was.
He stopped however when he saw a familiar coat covered arm. A few feet away Donovan stood almost hidden by a large piece of the roof that had fallen. She was looking at the ground with a broken expression on her face.
"We found John." she said quietly when she realized Lestrade was looking at her.
"Sherlock over here." Anderson said coming up to the both of them and nodding to the body in front of Lestrade.
Donovan leaned down and laced two fingers on John's wrist. A few seconds later she pulled her hand back and shook her head.
Swallowing again Lestrade went to where Sherlock was now lying. He just needed to confirm it.
He had never seen the other man so pale or so still. Sherlock had always been a whirlwind. Coming and going as he pleased, leaving everything in disarray as he left. And now seeing him lying on the ground, completely still. Unmoving. He felt his hands start to shake.
Lestrade kneeled next to the arm and forced himself, think like a cop he reminded himself, to reach out and take the wrist. A corner of his mind noted how thin the wrist was and how the clothes he wore always made him look bigger.
His fingers finally managed to grasp the wrist and he pressed against the veins.
Nothing.
No heartbeat. No life. Nothing.
He was completely still.
Three days later in the maternity ward of a hospital a woman gripped her husband's hand tightly as she felt another contraction shoot through her. With a hoarse cry she felt the baby leave her body and she fell back onto the bed exhausted.
The baby, a girl, was crying as loud as she was able to; the sound of a building falling and a bomb going off still ringing, yet fading already, in her ears.
In a different hospital on the other side of town another mother was giving birth however her husband was waiting for the news in the hallway. The mother was under surgery and sedated so that she felt no pain and only a dim sense that she was giving birth.
The baby, another girl, came whimpering into the world. Regret and fingers blindly searching for the other were fading however didn't entirely disappear.