HIDDEN IN PLAIN SIGHT
Sebastian Moran.
The final piece of Moriarty's criminal of web. Here they both stood, face-to-face. The gun locked and loaded, aimed straight at his chest. The sniper was one of Moriarty's most trusted marks-man. They never missed, there would be no reason they would miss now. One wrong movement would mean in the ultimate demise of the consulting detective, and he knew it. Except, it would be for good this time.
How did he miss it? How could something of such importance slip right past him? He called himself a consulting detective, the master of deduction. However, there was one minor detail he had failed to deduce. And the failure in doing so could very well cost him his life. Stupid, stupid man.
Two years he had disappeared for. Faking his death, becoming a mere ghost walking amongst the people of the earth. His presence was unknown to those around him, not a soul – expect for those very few – that knew he still existed, that he was still alive. Tracking down each and every single one of the culprits connected to the mad man forcing him into his death all those years ago, proved to be quite the task. Days and months and years of constantly being on the run, chasing after them all, not knowing for certain if he would make it out alive. His life, along with many others, were hanging on a thread; only one that he could secure.
So long had he been trying to hunt down the sniper, yet the marks-man had done quite the job of eluding him. Sherlock Holmes had thought he himself could hide in plain sight, put on the false pretenses and pretend like he didn't exist for two whole years, yet Moran had done an even better job. There hadn't been so much as a glace between them, never before had they met, or so he thought.
The blue-eyed consulting detective had found his way back to London, settling back into his usual routine. Just as he was forced off to exile, he had been summoned back home once again, the all too familiar face of his nemesis appearing on every screen of England. Moriarty, still alive? He had witnessed his death, how could a man – even one such as Moriarty – survive such a fatal blow? A bullet straight through his mouth, his death would have been instant, there was no surviving such a wound. Yet, here was his image, striking fear in all those once again who knew just exactly what the mad man was capable of.
There was so much to be done, he needed to investigate into the so called returned of Morarity. Yet here he was once again, finding himself back on the roof-stop of St. Barts. Sherlock had been coaxed our, drawn back out into the open. Oh how he was not expecting this turn out. This wasn't how it was supposed to be, what had he missed? How had this gone unseen for so long?
Molly Hooper; her finger pressed against the trigger, the black weapon in her hand, arm raised, the barrel of the gun aimed at her target. Molly Hooper. The woman who counted – the one he always trusted. How had the sweet, mousy pathologist ended up on top of Bart's rooftop with him, once again here to witness his so-called death.
She had helped him cheat death before, except this time, she would be the one behind it. After all – Molly Hooper – or should he now refer to her by her true identity - Sebastian Moran, had been awaiting for this moment all along. The day when she would come out hiding, reveal herself and her true intentions, the day where she would finally end him. And here it was, the day Sherlock Holmes, would once again fall to his death.
A/N: My first multi-chapterd Sherlock fan fiction, with a bit of a twist on the characters.
We still don't know who Sebastian Moran is - but I am really hoping we do get to see him in the next season!
Anyway, that's all for now.
- sherlockhxlmes