Okay, so, this is a definite on the spoiler side and on the post-ep side too... but I really wanted a go, cause everyone else is... =) I still don't own Sherlock. I wish I did. But I don't... I apologise for all of the spelling mistakes. I hope I've sorted them all out. It took ages to sort out.
The door slams shut behind Sherlock, the slow ripple of the water as its being cleaned of all traces of that day's occupants. Sherlock's foot steps echoed around the pool side, as awkward as it was to walk with an L9A1 concealed in his trousers pocket. He turns; examining the surroundings, nothing out of place, nothing different, just older and more or less in need of some sort of renovation. His holds up a hand suddenly. The USB stick holding the Bruce-Parrington plans clutched tightly as he glanced around.
"I've brought a little getting to know you present..." Sherlock said, loudly, reverberating off the walls back on to him, "This is what it's all been for, isn't it? All you're little puzzles, making me dance, all to distract me from this..." Sherlock turns again. Turning away from the obvious. A small, echoing, metal against metal sound makes him turn back, looking down the pool. Out steps someone impossible.
John.
He walks slowly. As if to drag out the moment. Big, thick coat covering him. Over-kill, Sherlock thinks for a second, it's not that cold in here.
"Evening," John says. Voice level and quiet. "This is a turn up isn't it, Sherlock?" Hands thrust deep in the thick coats pockets. Voice cracking as if under pressure. But Sherlock doesn't notice that. All he sees is someone who he let in to his life. Someone who he trusted.
"John? What the hell...?" Sherlock is shocked, angered and concerned all at the same time. But his face remains blank, calm.
"Bet you never saw this coming," John says, Sherlock lowers his arm and turns fully to him. Walking towards the man utterly confused. "What... would you like me to... make him say... next?" A laser sight trains on John's heart as he pulls open the coat, wires and Semtex covered his body. Sherlock pauses, eye darting around the pool looking for the sniper. But there almost no one. All he can see is John. "Gottle o'gear, gottle o'gear, gottle 'o'gear..." John says, his voice tuning in to a scared whisper at the last time he says it.
"Stop it," Sherlock commands. Still looking around looking for anything, anyone that was around but still only he and John.
"Nice touch this, the pool where little Carl died. I stopped him; I can stop John Watson, too." John's voice raised an octave higher at the way his life was being threatened. "Stop his heart."
"Who are you?" Sherlock shouts still looking around. He hears the door at the other end of the pool creak open and slam shut.
"I gave you my number. I thought you might call." A distinctly Irish accent, ringing though his skull, John stands there silent now. The man was hiding in the shadows but slowly emerging from them, silence through out, just the babble of the water. As he walks out in to the open. "Is that a British army L9A1 in you're pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?" He asks, hands in his pockets, walking towards him with out a care in the world. Sherlock is quick to draw the gun and his aim is steady on the advancing man.
"Both," He says. Aim never shifting from the man.
"Jim Moriarty, hi!" His annoyingly high pitched voice sends ripples of annoyance down Sherlock's spine, "Jim? Jim from the hospital?" Sherlock shifts in his stance, his other hand now placed on the gun as well. "Oh... did I make such a fleeting impression? But then I suppose that was the rather the point." Moriarty's walking towards them and Sherlock follows them with the gun, "Don't be silly someone else is holding the rifle. I don't like getting my hands dirty. 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, y'see, like you!" He finishes. A small smile on his lips.
"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 says; his voice steady and level. Just as John's had been before, hardly betraying any emotion.
"Just so," Moriarty says in a fake posh accent.
"A consulting criminal." Sherlock says, just musing on a thought. Suddenly glad that he's working with the police; the good guys. "Brilliant."
"Isn't it? No one ever gets to me; and no one ever will." He say's, he eyes Sherlock up and down, a look of distain on his face for a second.
"I did," Sherlock says as he cocks the gun's safety off.
"You've come closest, now you're just in my way."
"Thank you."
"I didn't mean it as a compliment."
"Yes, you did."
"Yeah, okay I did." He pauses for a second, "But the flirting's over now Sherlock. Daddy's had enough now!" The latter is said in a sing song way. "I've shown you what I can do. I cut loose all those people, all those little problems. Even thirty million pounds just to get you to come out and play." He's walking towards them again. Every step closer Moriarty came Sherlock's heart pounded faster in his chest. "So take this as a friendly warning, my dear. Back off. 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 says.
"That's what people DO!" Moriarty shouts. A flash of memory; he'd said exactly the same words to John earlier that day. But Sherlock knows that he's better than him.
"I will stop you." Sherlock vows. Gun still trained on Moriarty.
"No you won't." Moriarty's turned childish defiance now.
"You alright?" Sherlock finally looks at John. John's breath is hitching every now and then because he doesn't want to be basically strapped to a bomb in the way he is. Moriarty walks forward towards John.
"You can talk, Johnny-boy, go ahead." Moriarty says, but John doesn't want to risk it and nods his head at Sherlock.
"Take it..." Sherlock holds his hand out, the memory stick in it.
"Ohh, that, the missile plans." He takes it from Sherlock's hand; he brings the small plastic thing to his lips and kisses it lightly. "Boring! I could have got them anywhere." And he throws them into the pool, there's a light splash as it falls in to the water. But what happens next is totally unexpected. John runs forward. Grabbing an unsuspecting Moriarty and holding on to him tight.
"SHERLOCK! RUN!" He shouts. But Sherlock can only stumble back slightly. Moriarty laughs.
"Good! Very good!" Moriarty shouts, Sherlock can see the laser sights faltering, looking for anything it can find that isn't Moriarty.
"If your sniper pulls that trigger now, Mr. Moriarty, then we both go up!" John whispers in Moriarty's ear. Loud enough for Sherlock to hear.
"Isn't he sweet, I can see why you like having him around... But then again, people do get so sentimental about their pets. Their so touchingly loyal. But WHOOPS!" The laser sight disappeared. Sherlock took his eyes off Moriarty to see where it had gone. "You've rather shown your hand there... Doctor Watson." The laser sight, one little red dot, appeared on Sherlock's forehead. "Got'cha." John pushed Moriarty away and moved back holding his hands up, none threatening and the laser sight moved back to John. "Westwood... Do you know what happens if you don't leave me alone, Sherlock? Do you know what happens to you?"
"Oh, let me see, I get killed." Sherlock said.
"Kill you... No, don't be obvious. I mean I'm going to kill you anyway, one day. I don't wanna rush it though... I'm saving it up for something special. No, no, no. If you don't stop prying, I'm going to burn you. I'm going to burn the heart out of you."
"I have been reliably informed that I don't have one." Sherlock told him.
"But we both know that's quite not true. Well I'd better be off." Moriarty looks around. "So nice to have had a proper chat..." Moriarty licked his lips as Sherlock took a breath.
"What if I was to shoot you now?" Sherlock asked.
"Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face..." Moriarty said, putting an obviously fake look of surprise on his face; mouth wide open in an 'o' shape, eyes wide. Then he went back to that silly, childish, grin of his. "'Cause I'd be surprised Sherlock, really I would. And just a teensy bit disappointed. But then again you wouldn't be able to cherish it for very long. Ciao, Sherlock Holmes." Moriarty walked away.
"Catch you... Later." Sherlock said following him with the gun.
"No, you won't!" And with that sing song voice, he was gone. Sherlock stood there for a few seconds. Just until the metal door had slammed shut. Then he looked at the bomb strapped to his Doctor's vest. He dropped the gun to the floor. It's clattering echoing for a second, but Sherlock's voice cut the noise off.
"All right? Are you alright?" Sherlock demanded of the stunned into silence Doctor. Sherlock undid the zip on the Semtex vest.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine... Sherlock!" John said, Sherlock was pulling the vest and coat off him at this point. "Sherlock!" Sherlock threw the vest down the length of the pool where it skidded to a halt. "Jesus!" He whispered, breath coming out ragged. Sherlock ran and picked up the gun that he'd just thrown down. He went out the door. Just as Johns leg's turned to jelly beneath him. "Oh, Christ!" He stumbled towards the frame of the booths. Levering himself round so he could lean against it. And he breathed heavily to try and calm himself down.
The door clicked shut again as Sherlock came back. He paced back and forth, scratching the back of his head with the gun.
"Are you okay?" John asked Sherlock. Who was still scratching his head with the gun.
"Me? Yeah fine... I'm fine." Fine was fast becoming one of Sherlock's favorite words. "That, uh, thing that you did, Uhm, that you offered to do, that was, uh, good."
"Well I'm glad no one saw that..." John said, finally catching up with his breath.
"Hmm?" Sherlock inquired.
"You ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool." The thought of it was ludicrous, "People might talk."
"People do little else." Sherlock said with a smile. Then, a laser sight flickered back into view. Training on John's heart. John looked down on it, watching it dance about on his chest. Then more and more came in to view. Some training on Sherlock, some on John.
"Sorry boys, I'm so changeable!" Moriarty. "It is a weakness with me. To be fair though, it is my only weakness!" He laughed. "You can't be allowed to continue. You just can't... I would try to convince you but... everything I have to say has already crossed you're mind!" Moriarty says. Sherlock looks at John, a small nod from him says everything. Sherlock turns to Moriarty, gun raised pointed at him.
"Probably my answer has already crossed yours." Eye's never leaving Moriarty the gun draws level with the jacket bomb. A slight look of discomfort flew over Moriarty's face as he looked at where the gun was pointing. If Sherlock was going down. He was taking Moriarty with him. Sherlock's hand shook slightly. Then, he could hear the tension in John's breathing. Everything slowed down. Moriarty's head tilted in a very reptilian way. A smile forming over his face, taunting him, telling him he wouldn't dare. Sherlock's face was the same mask. No emotions, just his eyes spoke everything he was feeling. Guilt and apprehension.
Sherlock's finger squeezed the trigger. The gunshot echoed through the building but was cut off by the bigger explosion that made the whole place rock in its foundations. No one heard the splash.
John jumped up, throwing himself bodily in to Sherlock. All thought's of Moriarty forgotten. He heard the shout of protest from Sherlock but that was quickly drowned out by the rush of water. Then the rush of water was drowned out by the explosion. The shock wave was cushioned by the water to a certain extent. Then he saw the reddish tint in the water. Bracing him self for any sort of pain, he closed his eyes and hung in the water. But there was no pain. He opened an eye and looked around. Sherlock had hit the water before him. And was lying close to the bottom of the pool. John cursed mentally and saw that the blood was coming from Sherlock's chest.
The blood was Sherlock's.
Panic. Blind panic at first. Too dangerous to brake the surface, the air would still be full of chemicals and debris. Then training kicked in. He swam down towards Sherlock. Limbs at all angles. Blood staining the dress shirt. He put his arms under Sherlock's and pulled him up to the surface. All but forgotten about the chemicals and debris. Sherlock was more important right now. John broke the surface. And gasped for air. He waited for any sort of response from Sherlock. But there was none.
No pulse. No breathing. Nothing.
Right now John was less than professional. Panic and adrenalin mixed together.
With sirens in the distance; John started CPR.
Lestrade saw the wreck of the swimming pool, all but a shell of what it used to be. Fire teams and rescue efforts were being pulled together to look for any sort of survivors. Looking at the wreck; they'd be looking for corpses. He ducked under the police tape. He'd heard a shout from the debris. It sounded like someone he knew. That John bloke that followed Sherlock around. Carefully climbing up and over some rubble from the building he saw something that would haunt him for the rest of his life.
John was performing CPR on Sherlock, who was motionless. John was screaming at Sherlock. Telling him that he had to live. Telling him anything. But got no response. He could hear the desperation in each word, in each scream. Lestrade tumbled down the rest of the rubble. When he hit the solid of the floor, he carefully navigated his way though the debris. He knelt down next to John. He could see the desperate attempts were becoming less and less. He was soaked through to the skin. Sobbing, shaking, and shivering as Lestrade took over. He heard the sound of someone shouting that there was another body. But Sherlock was important.
John knew that the body was Moriarty. It was the only other person it could be. He'd totally forgotten about the snipers. But that didn't matter. His eyes were fixed on Sherlock. As finally Lestrade gave up. Panting for breath. John went to start again, but a pair of hands pulled him back.
"There is nothing we can do now." A voice said, it sounded far away, he knew the voice was Anderson's. He pulled weakly against the hands. But they didn't budge. "John, listen!" But he tuned out, and stared at his friend instead. Sherlock's eye staring sightlessly at the ceiling, skin paler than that it should be. John sighed and let the paramedic's check him over.
John sat in the back of an ambulance. A gaudish orange blanket wrapped around his shoulders. A mug of chilling sweet tea sat in his hands. But he stared straight a head. Seeing the nights events unfold in front of him. Hearing Moriarty's voice echoing through his mind; hearing Moriarty's chilling laughter. Sherlock's blood. Sherlock's sightless eyes... cloudy and unseeing. Gone.
A stretcher was pulled up from the chaotic wreckage. John looked at it. It was covered by the same sort of blanket as was around his shoulders. He could clearly see the mess of curly black hair though. He closed his eyes against it. Unwillingly; tears slid down his face. Falling on to his hands. He didn't want this. Not now. Not ever. John wanted to go home. Anywhere, was good right now. Hell, he'd take Harry in any way; drunk or sober. He didn't care.
Lestrade was trying to get some sort of answer from him. But he seemed more interested in the stretcher. John couldn't tear his eyes away from it. He knew who it was. John knew it was Sherlock. The stretcher was loaded into the back of an ambulance and taken to Bart's. Lestrade looked back at John, and he saw the tears. John was seriously his friend.
John had been Sherlock's conscience.
Longer than expected; this is gonna be in two parts. I'll write the next part soon. Before school, during school, after school. But it might take some time... And thank you to all the reviewers and people who have favorite'd me.
Ellen xx