Title: Reichenbach Falls- A Different Take (Part 3 Of A Different Take Series/Universe)
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters that are part of the BBCverse of Sherlock.
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Moriarty, Moran, DI Lestrade, Sally Donovan, Molly Hooper, Mrs Hudson with Mycroft Holmes appearance a couple times.
Genre: Suspense, Drama, Angst, General, Friendship, Humor (as much one can be with this story), Hurt/Comfort
Warnings: Death, Murder, Violence, Language,
Spoilers: Reichenbach Falls is the title of the third episode/season finale (or episode 6) of Season 2.
Summary: It's February. John and Sherlock have known each other for a year now, their friendship strong, the bond that is between them is understood by them, but not by everyone else. Moriarty's plans for the two of them have been coming to fruition since January. Everyone they know, have helped and are close to them (as close one can get to Sherlock that is) are in danger.
Author's Notes: All righty then, here we go. I had do some research once more of course. I had to read up some on Reichenbach Falls first to get a good idea of what it was about, and to help put together a tale. We all know of course that as per the course, that Moffatt and Gatiss will have their twist and spin on it. Below once more, is my own twist/take on it.
Enjoy.
Prologue
So It Begins
Date: Februrary 10th,2011
Time: 2 pm
Location: Aeroplane
Sherlock looks out the window, watching as the clouds go by.
The noise in the aeroplane was at a low hum, thanks to the earplugs he had purchased earlier.
It enabled him to think clearly, to focus on the task at hand.
To go over the plan.
Everything was set into place.
It was concluded, after much thinking, debating and planning, that this was the only way.
It certainly was not an option he liked very much. There was nothing about this he liked.
He feels a tap on his wrist, and he glances over at John who gestures to the flight attendant with the drink cart.
Sherlock shakes his head and goes back to staring out the window.
The time for thinking about this was over.
It was the only way.
Location: Undisclosed
Time: Unknown, But Evening
Date: January 1st, 2011
Moriarty stares at the scene playing out before him on the telly, a rage slowly building.
It took five months to set up that heist. Five long months. It took that long to acquire the right people, to get the right equipment. He put a lot of money to help those... those... incompetent fools pull of their heist and get away with it.
And this is what happens?
Arrested hours before the heist was to begin. Arrested because somehow Interpol got a tip. A bloody tip of all things!
How? How was it possible? There was nothing to trace, nothing to go on, he made sure of that! But here it is, in all of it's splendid glory on the telly. All of them arrested.
Moriarty exhales attempting to bring calm in his mind.
It was just so.. so...
"Infuriating!" He snarls, hurling the remote at the television. Not doing anything remotely satisfying he picks up the lamp next to him and hurls it at the telly, anything to make that reporter shut the hell up.
He doesn't pay attention to the three people in the room with him suddenly bolt of the room.
He heard the whispers of the others.
iBoss in a bad mood.
Stay away. /i
Oh bloody hell yes, he was in a bad mood!
This was the third sting to his organization in as many weeks!
Not only was it humiliating, it was aggravating, it was infuriating, it was maddening!
He had been in control of a massive crime ring, one that was spread out through most of Europe and a small branch of it in the States, for years now. An organization that had not even been known, or on anyone else's radar for that matter, for years. Nearly ten years of being able to plot, plan, set up, put everything into place to execute the crimes, and he was able to get it done without anyone knowing a bloody damn thing!
Now.. now, three have all gone to bust. Three crimes that each took a lot of time to plan and to execute.
It was enough to drive him beyond mad...if he wasn't already there at times.
It didn't seem to matter that he sent his best to clean up, to take out the idiots that are arrested before they reveal anything incriminating that could lead the authorities to him. Somehow, one way or another, connections were being made, smaller rings being flushed out, traps being set and sprung.
The only thing that had not happened was his face being plastered all over the news.
He gets up from the sofa, and starts pacing the room, running his hands through his cropped short hair. He needs to think. How is this happening?
He catches a glimpse of another entering the room.
"The Hungarians have been caught?"
Moriarty growls at his pet's comment. He picks up a vase as he passes the stand, getting ready to throw it when his assassin plucks it out of his hands, then puts it back on the stand. He's almost amused at her quick reflexes.
"Sherlock behind it?"
His near amusement is now gone.
Moriarty's jaw clenches at the name. Sherlock Holmes. It had to be him! It was the only solution to this madness!
"I can't prove it," Moriarty says between clenched teeth. "He must have gotten sneakier in his ways. I haven't caught a scent of his sniffers looking for me. They've all gotten better. He must have deeper resources than I thought..."
Once again the anger in him strengthens. Holmes was supposed to back off. The fool was told what would happen if he didn't!
The cleverness and resourcefulness of Sherlock Holmes was getting to be quite annoying. He had his fun with him, he was given a friendly warning at the pool, and a final warning in November.
Enough is enough.
The fun is over now.
"I take I'm going to Hungary to take care of the fools?"
"No," he says shortly. "No, I'll send someone else. You, I need for an entirely different matter."
"That would be what, boss?"
"The file on my desk," Moriarty waves his hand behind him.
The only sounds he hears are footsteps walking across the floorboards over to his desk. Moriarty decides a bit of fresh air would be beneficial. He walks over to a pair of glass doors, sliding one open and stepping outside onto the balcony.
The view of the city, a city that yesterday he helped a gentleman steal eight million euros from, (At least one crime went according to plan) the darkness of this night, the chilly wind that greeted him, fell over him. A calm was now approaching.
This was needed.
He never did well when he was angry. He ended up getting a bit.. well rash when he was angry. He thought better when he was calm. When he was in control.
It does not take long for all the troubles to recede, to fall away. For his mind to be rational, focused and driven once more.
"I got you this list in December," Moran's voice calls out. Moments later, his favorite pet steps out and joins him on the balcony. . "There are a few more names and addresses on it though."
"Just the ones I found through my own research recently."
"Where do you want me to start?"
"The States," Moriarty orders. He knew this was the right course of action. Sherlock had been warned. Twice. He should have been grateful, he doesn't give two warnings, hell he normally didn't even give one warning.
"There are four there. Take care of two. Then come back here. There are nine in all in the Mainland. Take out five. Then we shall begin in London."
He watches with satisfaction as his sniper, his favorite pet, oh so loyal, smirks.
"Can't hardly wait," she says.
Moriarty chuckles at her eagerness. "Always so willing, my dear."
"I need a little fun."
"Then fun you shall have." He nods. "Go."
She turns and heads back inside the suite, and Moriarty faces the city once more.
"It's time for you to see that your actions do indeed have consequences," Moriarty says softly into the night.
"Time to pay the price."
Location: Boston, Massachusetts
Time: Afternoon
Date: January 4th
"Come on, answer your damn phone," Moran hears the woman mutter in her ear. She can see her pacing in her living room.
Moran watches as the private investigator tries to get a hold of Sherlock Holmes, unaware of the bugs in her home, nor that she was being sighted through a scope attached to a sniper rifle from a few buildings away.
"Sherlock! Damn it, man! Answer your phone for once! I can't text you about this. Listen, call me back as soon as you can. I have some information for you."
The private investigator ends the call and Moran watches as she sets the mobile on the counter, staring at her laptop.
With a smirk, she picks up her own and dials the number to the investigator. It rings twice, then the other woman answers.
"Sherlock?"
"No," Moran answers, her mobile on speaker, satisfied with having a clear aim now. "But you can certainly blame Sherlock for what is about to happen for you.. for the next few seconds."
"What?"
Moran pulls the trigger twice in quick succession, and seconds later she grins as the investigator falls down, dead. Hard to survive with a bullet in the heart and in between the eyes.
Location: Los Angeles, California
Time: 5 pm
Date: January 7th, 2011
Moran pulls back her rifle, once the second shot hits the FBI agent between the eyes. She hears shouts from the distance she is at, and lays flat on the roof while she pulls apart her rifle and puts it back in the case.
She then crawls to the door just twenty feet away. Once it's opened, she stands, picking up the rifle case and then walks down the stairwell.
It takes only five minutes for her to get to the main level of the garage and to the rental car.
It's only a few more minutes later, when driving, she picks up her mobile and presses a button.
It rings twice.
"Agent Baynes?" She hears once the boss answers.
"Taken care of."
"Who are you going to next?"
"I'm thinking the hacker in Houston."
She hears Moriarty laugh, and she smirks as the call ends.
Location: Houston, Texas
Time: 4 pm
Date: January 11th, 2011
Moran scowls at the mess laying about in front of her.
She despises not keeping a clean home. Or a flat.
The several computers in the other room hum as she waits on the sofa for Billy Bradstreet, apparent hacker extraordinaire at the age of nineteen, to come home.
No buildings across the street gave her a decent vantage point to target Billy Bradstreet.
So she has to do it up close.
Not that she cares. Either way is suitable.
Faint sounds of footsteps echo in the hall, and she hears the boy's voice. No one else is responding, so clearly on a mobile then.
She points her pistol at the front door, silencer on it of course, and waits.
Moran doesn't have to wait long as the door opens, and she aims it at the boy, as he says something into the mobile and then slips into his coat. He shuts the door and then takes a few feet into the room, stopping still as he sees her, then sees the gun.
"Hello Billy," she says softly.
He stares at her.
"Was that Sherlock Holmes you were speaking to just now?"
His eyes widen.
"You can blame him for this," she says with a smile.
Then shoots.
She watches dispassionately as the nineteen year old drops down on the ground. She removes the silencer, puts the pistol and silencer back in the case. Then stands and walks forward, stepping over the body of Bradstreet and leaves the pitifully small flat.
Once more she takes out her mobile and presses a button.
"There will be a jet waiting for you at the location I will send to you," boss says the second he answers. "Everything went well?"
"Splendidly."
"He'll be getting word soon of the first death."
"Oh, poor man."
"Best get to the Mainland fast. You have a strict timeline for the targets there before I need you in London."
"Yes, boss."
"Good work, my dear."
She smiles as she leaves the building, and the call ends. Moran wonders if Sherlock will care when hears of the deaths.
Boss thinks so.
He was quite pleased when she told him her findings regarding how Holmes obviously felt about John Watson.
When she turned the gun on John, she saw a fire in his eyes.
iHow sweet it will be... to pull the trigger on John Watson. Will the fire still rage? Or will it die like Boss hopes it will?/i
If it does, then Boss's vengeance will be achieved.