JOHN WATSON

NOV 21st POOL

The floor shook and swayed as though I were sailing on rough water. I kept my eyes closed; I was sweating on my face. Feeling dizzy and sick, I groaned. My arms failed to find any support; someone was pushing me up; I heard a man's voice ringing in my ears.

"Now it's time for the final act, Mr. Sherlock Holmes. Welcome back!"

It didn't make any sense. Sherlock Holmes? Whoever the speaker was, he could not be talking to him. Sherlock died.

"This might be a new version of the nightmare."

I tried to open my eyes and almost lost my balance. I felt someone's muscular arms grabbing and supporting me. I should've refused the last vodka when Sebastian ordered it.

"John. It's time to wake up."

I recognized the familiar voice.

"Sebastian? Is it you?"

"Hey, mate, sit down. You must be feeling awful."

He helped me sit down on a chair.

I opened my eyes. It was dark and chilly, certainly not my bedroom.

"Where are we?"

"Well, take your time and look around."

Sebastian leaned closer and whispered in my ears.

"I got you a surprise."

My eyes scanned the place. An old public swimming pool in renovation- stacks of tiles and blocks, insulation, some glass panels, beams, plastic chairs, no water in the pool. The place felt familiar yet I couldn't make out the place. My eyes flitted on someone. I gasped, failing to register what I saw. A tall man in black coat with a blue scarf was standing near one end of the Pool - a pale face with prominent cheekbones, curly black hair, a penetrating stare, and tall, lanky body. I blinked my eyes.

Sherlock Holmes.

"No. no. Am I hallucinating again?"

"What do you think? John, I found your friend for you. Rather I made your friend find me, thus forcing him to come back from his grave."

Sebastian made a mischievous look at me. I rubbed my eyes and looked again.

"This is a sick joke, right? He died years almost two years ago."

I shook my head with all kinds of possible ideas exploding in my mind. I tried to comprehend what was happening.

"Simply it must be a dream…or…what?"

I turned my head to Sebastian.

"Seb. Do you see him, too?"

His eyes twinkled.

"Oh, exactly like I had expected. John Watson. You are a textbook. My dear friend, you never disappoint me."

Sebastian laughed and somehow his laugh was full of malice.

"This is real. He is not a ghost."

All of a sudden, he stopped laughing, looked into my eyes, and asked innocently.

"Coffee? No sugars. Just the way you like."

He held out thermos. I shook my head because I would just throw it all back up. Sebastian was acting like a maniac. He reminded me of someone that I knew. Who was that person? I couldn't remember who that was. I staggered up to look at the man or a spirit or whatever that was across the pool but Seb's arms held me down. I tried to break free to no avail. His grip was too strong.

"John. Stay still. Do not make any moves."

Sherlock urgently stopped me from standing up. He spoke! He's not a hallucination! His eyes were fixed on something on me. My eyes followed his glance only to find a huge amount of C4 explosives tied around me.

"Not again…"

"Oh, gentlemen, I'd like to inform you that there are more of the explosives on the ceiling enough to collapse it. Before our lovely dinner tonight, I took my time to perfect this pool. Here's the remote control for that one."

Seb took a small device out to me. With that, the reality started to sink in.

"Sherlock. You…you're alive?"

"Yes. John. I am. I assume you have many questions but this isn't the right time to ask."

Sherlock took a couple of cautious steps toward me when Sebastian stopped him.

"Mr. Holmes, I'd love to see you stage something emotional, maybe a hug or a kiss with your doctor friend. But, no. Behave, Mr. Holmes."

Sebastian held out second remote control from his pocket.

"This one can blow up Mr. Watson."

Sherlock stopped there.

"Mr. Moran. The explosion will kill you, too."

A very simple answer came back.

"Oh, I don't care about myself."

My eyes darted from Sebastian to Sherlock. I was not sure if that was the real Sherlock. Worse, Sebastian was not Sebastian that I knew. My voice trembled.

"Who are you, Sebastian?"

"Who do you think I am? Dr. Watson. What was it? Oh, yes – the stupid bereavement UK meeting? I lost someone special in my life on the very same day that you saw this man fall."

Sherlock cut in.

"John, think. If you eliminate the impossible and whatever remains, however improbable…"

Suddenly everything made sense.

"Moriarty?"

Sebastian pursed his lips and took a deep breath before opening his mouth again.

"You are very thick, John. Didn't you read my CV file from Mycroft Holmes? Surprisingly you didn't have any questions about me. Yes, trust issues? You trust people too easily."

"I don't believe any of this."

My words sounded so desperate - I was losing somebody special.

"Here, here. The stubbornness of a soldier. Take a look around and think. You know where you are. We met here ages ago - you did not see me, but I saw you. Remember?"

Moriarty. Pool. Explosives. A few laser dots…

My voice trembled in disbelief.

"You were the sniper?"

"One of them. I was the one aiming for your heart."

Sherlock interrupted.

"John. This man, Sebastian Moran is Moriarty's lieutenant."

"Well done, Mr. Holmes. I thought few knew the connection between Jim and myself on top of the fact that you managed to track my mobile number. I was pleasantly surprised when you sent me the invitation."

Moran applauded, and then stared into my eyes and whispered.

"Yes. I was James Moriarty's right hand man. I admired him. He was …he was the only one who trusted me."

Sebastian… Sherlock… Moriarty…It just didn't make any sense.

Sebastian added in a gentle voice, while looking at me.

"A little too much to handle, John? It's o.k. It doesn't matter. We're going to play a very entertaining game."

A meaningless murmurs and blurring vision… I tried to focus.

Think. John Watson. Think. . Sherlock's alive. Sebastian is a lie. He said he was Moriarty's man.

Contradicting emotions swirled in my head – shock, disbelief, happiness, bitterness, doubt, confusion, anger…

Sherlock Holmes. All this time, and nothing – no text, call, mail, just a fall. Did Sherlock Holmes trust me at all? Did he ever consider me as his best friend? He did. He must've done because he jumped off the edge of the roof for me… for us. Mycroft, Lestrade and I figured it out after Sherlock's funeral. I saw his body, his autopsy photos; I attended his funeral; how did he fake his death? Why didn't he tell me? What kept him from contacting me or Lestrade until now? Did he know how much I suffered?

What about Sebastian? Weren't we friends? Yes, it was an on-and-off thing but we got along o.k. We sought and found comfort in each other's company. Occasionally Sebastian talked and acted in a strange way, but I brushed it off as depression-related issues. Sometimes he really did care about me or at least he seemed so.

What's wrong with me? I must have a psychological problem. I am a magnet for all those sociopaths and freaks out there. I am the only one that gets hurt: Sherlock faked his death and never got in touch with me; Sebastian disguised himself as a friend and stabbed me in the back.

"John!"

Sherlock's voice…and a gunshot. I came to my senses just when a bullet whizzed by. I didn't see Sebastian move but he was close to Sherlock Holmes, pointing a gun at me. Sherlock's face was white and full of anger and fear.

"John, I finally got your attention, didn't I? My original intention was to kill you in the presence of Mr. Holmes because that was the rule of this game. However, I've changed my mind – we don't play it by Jim's rules, not this time. I'll thank you for your being there after Jim's death. You are my best friend in a way."

He pressed a button on one remote control and threw it away.

"I disabled the bomb around your chest. You're safe now. Take that parka off. Oh, your gun is inside the right pocket. Take it out and put it on the chair next to you."

My gun was supposed to be in my lockable drawer. Why and how was it in the pocket? I took the parka off slowly and pushed it away from me. Sherlock did the same thing last time… The look on Sherlock' face and his trembling voice… Sherlock did care about me although he was reluctant to admit it.

Sebastian's voice alerted me.

"John. John. Please, pay attention. Don't you want to listen to my rules?"

His voice suddenly dropped.

"You have two choices, Mr. Holmes or me? Choose the detective, and I'll finish the game. Mr. Holmes, Jim owed you a fall. John, I owe you a bullet."

He paused and grinned at my ashen face.

"Don't worry! I'm not Jim. I'll press this button and all three of us can go together."

Sebastian turned his face on Sherlock and smiled coldly.

"But, John. There is an alternative. You have a way-out. Think about it. All this time of misery and depression, Mr. Holmes abandoned you. He didn't trust you then, and certainly not now. To Mr. Holmes, you are just a loyal dog, an ordinary and boring live-in pet… He'll continue to use and betray you."

Sherlock got paler and shouted angrily.

"Don't listen to him, John. He's using you to get to me."

Sebastian laughed. A madman's laughter.

"Mr. Holmes, I assume you know what's coming. John. He doesn't deserve you. He's never deserved you. Pick me and kill him with your gun."

The sniper's voice got softer.

"John, choose me. Let's face the battlefield together. Your marksmanship tells me that you are very promising in that career."

I choked out words and his smile faded at my answer.

"I refuse to choose. Both are the options that I dislike."

Sebastian snapped at me.

"That's a disappointing answer. John Watson."

I shot him a defiant glare. His eyes were fixed on me and his voice was strained, almost as if he were pleading

"Common on, John. Choose me."

"No… I can't choose any…"

I stumbled in the middle of my sentence. Moran's face fell; soon it was replaced by a colder grin. Suddenly the silence between us was interrupted by police sirens and screeches of brakes outside the parking lot.

"Oh, gate crashers! I am disappointed, Mr. Holmes. You brought company!"

Moran taunted.

"Time is running out. You are such a greedy boy, John. You want both of us, but you can have only one. Who are you going to choose?"

"Sebastian, why are you doing this?"

I asked – I had to know why. My voice was in pain. Sebastian made a frustrated gesture.

"John, don't be unnecessarily difficult. We don't have "forever".

His eyes were filled with twisted glee.

"Well, I hope you'll forgive me for this. It's just to make you decide faster."

He aimed his rifle and fired; Sherlock made his move yet not fast enough. I crumbled on the floor with searing white pain burning my leg. I was panting and groaning with pain: soon I could feel blood flowing out profusely. I pressed the wound as hard as possible to no avail. Blood flew out and made a pool.

"A clean through-through, John. If untreated, you will bleed to death soon. Oh, what am I saying? Of course, you'd know. You are an army doctor. Now, what's your decision?"

In pain, I looked up at the sniper and saw Sherlock behind him.

There was a metallic clinking. Sherlock kicked the gun and rifle away into the empty pool. Sebastian yelped angrily and turned around to fight. Sherlock flung himself on Moran for the remote control. The two men were desperate. Sherlock punched Moran in the stomach and Moran returned the favor, punching him in the face. Sherlock was quick- he avoided it and jabbed Moran. Moran lost his balance, and tripped, accidently pushing the bomb switch. The ceiling started to crumble - a few broken cement blocks fell to the pool. One of the exposed beams started to swing precariously over the two men. Both looked up in disbelief. The beam was about to fall. Everything slowed down in silence. I shouted out.

"No. Damn it! No. I can't lose you again!"

Sebastian's eyes fleeted across me. Our eyes locked for a second. Everything was falling…

"John, John!"

Someone was calling me. A voice that I knew well...

Who are you? Sherlock? Sebastian?

With a flash of light, I found myself sinking into bottomless darkness.