Sherlock opened his eyes groggily. He was kneeling on cold, rough,stone, and his arms were suspended above his head somehow. The detective felt someone standing near him, watching him. The man lifted his head, and locked eyes with a tall, tanned, blond haired man looming over him.
"You're finally awake I see." he sneered, hate in his eyes.
"And how should I address you? Other than the strange man who was watching me sleep?" Sherlock rebuked sarcastically. He was completely taken aback when he was struck hard across the face, he tasted blood in his mouth. As he rolled his head back, Sherlock noticed his wrists were bound with rope and tied to a pipe in the ceiling.
"My name is Sebastian Moran. And you, Sherlock Holmes, are the reason that my other half, Jim Moriarty, is dead." The man standing over him, Sebastian apparently, spoke with acid in his voice.
"What the bloody hell are you talking about?" Sherlock demanded.
"Don't play stupid," Sebastian looked as if he wanted to strike him again, "Jim died because he wanted you to die as well, but you pulled some little shit trick and you're alive. I was his right hand man, the John to Moriarty's Sherlock, yes I know about your precious John, who do you think Jim would trust to be the sniper focussed on your friend that day?" Moran said John's name with an almost inhuman hate.
"And do you expect me to care? Jim, wanted me dead, and he was going to have everyone I cared about killed if I didn't end up that way. I won't say that I mourn his death-" Sherlock was cut off mid-sentence, Sebastian wasn't able to control himself this time as he backhanded the other man across the face.
Sherlock felt the sting of cuts along his cheek, Moran must have been wearing some kind of ring with a stone. He saw the ring as he was slapped a second time, it was a silver band with small diamonds studded all around. The fact that his pain was caused by an expensive piece of jewelry, didn't help to ease the pounding in his head.
"You still haven't answered my question," the detective said with a sly grin on his face. Sebastian took that as a reason to spit in his direction, landing near his feet, "what exactly did you take me to learn? If you wanted me dead you could have simply killed me, you obviously have the means to do so."
The blond man crouched in front of the dark haired man, "I'm curious as to how you survived when I clearly saw you jump off of that building and saw your blood on the sidewalk. I want to know how you managed to cheat death, why you get to be with the person you love, when mine was taken from me," Sebastian said all of this rather quietly, menacingly. Sherlock considered if he should humor the man's request, the trick he'd used would probably never work again, so why not, he thought.
"Okay, you'll get your answer," Holmes replied, before he explained to the furious man a general outline of how he'd survived. "Are you satisfied now? Do you have your closure?" Sherlock asked with a sly grin again.
Moran was just staring at the space above Sherlock's head, before looking at him, anger blooming in his eyes. The man pulled back his hand and struck the detective again and again, speaking in between, "I want,"- "you"- "to,"- "wipe that,"- "smirk,"- "off"- "your,"- "face." Sebastian stumbled back, leaning against a pillar in the middle of the room. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a handgun.
"What now? Are you going to shoot me, leave me here, then call the cops with an anonymous tip?" Sherlock sneered.
"No, not exactly. I'm not going to kill you, but I am going to call the cops, but a certain cop, who will bring a certain army doctor along. And I will leave you with having to explain to him, why you've left him alone all these months. Along with the idea in the back of your mind that I can follow you, I could finish my assignment any time, leaving you with no one. Or I could simply choose to disappear and never lay eyes on your sadistic arse ever again."
"Just one thing I need to clear up," Sherlock interrupted, "I am not a sadist, I am a high functioning sociopath." and the last thing Sherlock saw was Moran pulling back his arm, before hitting him square on the head with the butt of his gun.
Some time later, Sherlock's eyes began to flutter open at the sound of police sirens coming closer. A familiar voice instructing someone to bust open the door and make a perimeter.
"Lestrade...I never thought I'd be so happy to hear you yelling" Sherlock thought to himself.
A few moments later the man lying on the floor," he must have cut me loose" he obsereved to himself, heard a slight gasp before a voice callled out another order.
"Anderson! Keep John Watson out of here!"
But, somehow, he know that Anderson would be too late. Even before he heard the choked gasp of the one person he had longed to see every moment since he'd jumped.
"Sh...Sher...Sher-lock?" John sounded as if he would be sick. The detective felt the impact as the doctor fell to his knees a few feet from the man he had mourned for months, the man he'd still been mourning until a moment ago.
"Call an ambulance, now! He needs to get to the hospital!" Holmes heard Lestrade yelling.
Sherlock wanted nothing more than to reach out a hand a touch John, his arm, his hand, his face, whatever, just so he could know the detective heard him, that he missed him. That he was sorry.
"Joh-...sor-ry" were the only words he was able to choke out before drifting away into dark.