Sherlock walked down the humid halls of the pool with a predator's grace, taking in the scene around himself.
"Nice touch." He thought to himself, noticing that Moriarty had picked the same pool they met in. He was told to come here for a special 'gift'. Sherlock of course knew this was a trap, but he couldn't ignore it. The letter had been sent in an envelope sealed with blood and John's old walking cane. John Watson was on his way to see Mrs. Hudson, who had apparently been shot. On the way, he was hijacked and kidnapped. There was no doubt in his mind that John was here.
Sherlock hesitated in front of the opening, watching the water's reflection dancing on the old walls. Doubt crept into his mind, an unfamiliar feeling.
Stay distant. Nothing will happen to John. He reminded himself, pushing down fear and anticipation. The game is on. With a deep breath, Sherlock stepped into the opening.
"Well, Its about time!" A voice echoed around the pools walls, crazed and uncontrollable. Standing directly in front of Sherlock was Jim Moriarty. He had his signature smile, and his eyes danced with excitement. The aura around him would unsettle anyone, and his insane laugh makes even the strongest of people crawl in their skin. Sherlock narrowed his eyes and took a step towards the Consulting Criminal.
"Where is John?" Sherlock demanded. Moriarty smirked, and stepped aside.
Behind him was John Watson being held by two men holding pistols to his temples. John was noticeably trying to keep his face calm, but the trembling in the rest of his body showed that he was terrified. They made eye-contact, and John visibly urged Sherlock to run away.
Why is he so scared? He thought, seeing how hard John was trying to contain his fear. Sherlock moved towards his best friend, but stopped when he felt red lasers of rifles on his chest. Sherlock rolled his eyes and put his hands up.
"Nope, don't move!" Moriarty said playfully as he circled him. Sherlock clenched his fists and felt Moriarty come up behind him.
"Little unoriginal, don't you think?" Sherlock teased, smirking at Moriarty as he examined him. He felt his eyes settle on the inside of his long jacket.
"Where's my gift then?" Sherlock taunted, seeing him in the corner of his eyes. Moriarty wrapped his arm around Sherlock and held him, grinning crazily at him. He reached into Sherlock's long coat and removed the gun that was hidden there. With a giggle, he threw it into the water. Sherlock watched as his only defence sunk to the bottom of the pool. Moriarty spun around and faced his hostage.
"Right here!" Moriarty snapped, and the two men holding John put their fingers on the triggers. John's body jerked, and he closed his eyes.
"No!" Sherlock shouted, feeling his breath catch in his throat. Jim cackled, noticing the look of terror that crossed his face.
"What do you want?" Sherlock demanded, keeping his gaze fixed on his best friend, who looked like he was trying not to cry.
"What are you offering Sherlock? What do you possibly have that I can't get on my own?" Moriarty taunted, walking up to john.
"What do you think Doctor Watson?" Moriarty leaned towards John, who attempted to yank away from him. Sherlock deafened the environment around himself and dove deep into his mind palace.
Sherlock focused, delving into his mind palace for any possible escape or negotiation. He played possible scenarios through his head, and each one resulted with his or John's death. Tension continued to boil in him as he frantically searched through every secret that Moriarty would ever want, but each one he already owned or could get easily.
"I don't know" Sherlock thought, continuing to search through each memory.
Abruptly, his brother Mycroft appeared in his mind.
"Isn't it obvious? You always were the stupid one.." He stated, looking at Sherlock with an unamused glare. Sherlock disregarded his brother and continued to search.
"Nope, not the answer." Mycroft said simply. Frustration built up in Sherlock as he tried to ignore Mycroft.
"Not there either." Mycroft teased as he began to search in memories about himself. Sherlock's patience snapped, and he whipped around to face his brother.
"What am I missing? I have searched everything he could ever want Mycroft, and found nothing! If you're so smart, then tell me!" Sherlock yelled, feeling the emotions he pushed down so far begin to rise.
"He wants you, moron." Mycroft replied, watching Sherlock's control of his feelings slip away.
"What?" Sherlock asked, everything around him dropping into silence. Mycroft smirked, shaking his head.
"Moriarty is bored. He wants you to sell yourself as his prisoner, and 'toy' with you for the rest of your life." Mycroft explained. Sherlock stared at his brother with wide eyes, registering his only option.
"There has to be another way." Sherlock insisted, frantically searching through his mind palace once more.
"Stop it Sherlock, its the only solution and you know it." Mycroft demanded, watching as his brother helplessly tear through his own mind.
"There is always another way!" Sherlock yelled, feeling the sense of defeat beginning to settle in his stomach. His brother grabbed his wrist, and gripped it tightly.
"Its the only way." He stated roughly. Sherlock's eyes watered, and he felt himself come back into reality.
Sherlock forced his emotions back in line, trying to remain distant. His icy gaze met Moriarty's, who was staring at him, fascinated in how Sherlock had nearly lost control of what he keeps bottled up.
"Me." Sherlock stated quietly as John struggled against their grips.
"No! Sherlock don-" One of the men clamped a hand around his mouth. Moriarty was filled with crazed anticipation, and he moved in front of Sherlock.
"Sorry, could you repeat that?" Moriarty teased, cupping a hand over his ear. Sherlock ground his teeth angrily and swallowed his pride.
"Me." He said louder, his voice cracking. Moriarty moved closer to him.
"One more time..." He insisted, clearly enjoying seeing his enemy surrender himself.
"Me!" Sherlock yelled, squinting as it echoed against the walls. Jim grinned manically and danced around him.
"Look here everyone! The famed Sherlock Holmes, the worlds best detective, is giving himself up to save his friend!" Moriarty shouted, pointing up to a red blinking light in the corner. Sherlock looked up at it bewildered, and realized that it was a camera.
"Stupid Sherlock, you let your emotions blind your mind." Mycroft's voice scolded.
"Oh, yes I forgot to mention, we are streaming this live on national television." Moriarty doubled over, laughing uncontrollably. Sherlock looked down at the wet floor, trying to hide himself from the camera.
"So, in exchange for John Watson's life, you are giving yourself up to me? Meaning, you'll be my prisoner for the rest of your existence, and that I can do whatever I want with you." Moriarty asked with a wide grin. Sherlock swallowed, suddenly aware of millions of people watching him.
"Yes." He answered, averting his gaze from Moriarty.
Moriarty shot his arm out towards Sherlock, offering a handshake.
"Deal?" He asked, smirking insanely. Sherlock hesitated, and had to remind himself that there was no other way.
As Sherlock grabbed his hand, Moriarty twisted his arm behind his back painfully, and pushed him up against a wall.
"Big mistake." Moriarty whispered evilly, twisting his arm harder. Sherlock held in a shriek as pulsing pain shot through his tendons. Moriarty nodded his head at the two men holding John, and they both hauled him to his feet.
"No! Sherlock what have you done?!" John screamed at him, struggling against their grip.
"Take him back to 221B Baker Street. A deal is a deal." Moriarty stated. They continued to push John out of the door.
"Sherlock!" John yelled, resisting against them. Sherlock smiled at John sadly.
"Goodbye John Watson." He struggled to say through the pressure on his chest.
They dragged John out kicking and screaming, and eventually had to tranquilize him.
"What's that thing you always say when you start something exciting or interesting?" Moriarty taunted, pressing him against the wall harder.
"Ah yes, I remember." Moriarty leaned into Sherlock's ear and whispered;
"The game is on."