AN: I suppose I should write a disclaimer since I'm bad at that! I own nothing but Sofia, the plot line, and the lead in to the next part of this massive story.
…
I dragged John down the steps, stumbling down the same one I had almost fallen down when I ran into Irene, and ran out into the cold street. I let go of Johns hand as soon as I heard the door to the flats shut. Looking to the sky, I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair.
"What the hell, Sofia! Why would you drag me out of there when a woman who is supposed to be dead is up there speaking to your father?!"
"Ah, come on. Don't get jealous of a little girl who my father has most likely seen naked." John's face started turning red, whether from anger or embarrassment, I'm not quite sure.
"Jealous?" Oooh, anger… "I am not jealous. Why would I be jealous of Irene Adler? I mean why would I be jealous of anyone who got to spend alone time with Sherlock? I spend most of my time with him anyway, so wh… why are you looking at me like that?" I just realized as he had been defending himself, I had turned completely to him, my arms crossed and my eyebrow raised. I rolled my eyes. Boys! Their so oblivious. I began to walk my way to the small bakery next to 221 Baker Street, the smell of coffee already reaching my nose, though I know it was just my imagination. I walked through the doors into the dimly lit room and sat at a small circle table in the middle of the room, where I could see most of the people in the restaurant.
"What can I get for you… two…" He had spotted John's choice of attire and frowned, confused, of course. My, it must be boring to have nothing going on in that head. It must be so… boring!
"Two coffees, please. And a Danish for the undressed one over there." The man nodded a second time and walked away. I shifted my eyes back to John and frowned. He still looked rather angry.
"What's your problem?"
"My problem? You-" a bell cut him off from what I'm sure was a sentence that was going to end so nicely. In walked a tall man with a scrunched up nose and slight pot-belly. He stood regal, with his nose in the air. I cocked an eyebrow as he walked our way. He can't seriously consider himself royalty, could he?
"John," he greeted. His gaze shifted to me, and a look of confusion spread on his face, though he quickly shook it off and looked back to John.
"Mycroft." So this is the uncle I have yet to meet.
"My sources tell me that a woman, The Woman, has been spotted here in central London. Care to elaborate?" John gave a slight shake of the head as he said no. "Hmm. Perhaps your lady friend does?" He looked pointedly at me. My poor uncle… Did he really think I was Irene? Too bad I've got mum's
"I'm afraid I don't," I said, dipping into a more seductive tone, like Irene's. Uncle took the bait.
His gaze intensified. "I think, perhaps we should continue this conversation in private."
"No, no. I'm quiet fine here."
"Sofia…" John warned.
"Sofia? Oh, very nice. You took your initials and rearranged them. Very nice indeed."
"I did no such thing." I raised my chin to show I was not intimidated by him. He gave an odd smile.
"Of course not. Now, tell me. How did you get yourself to look so young? Plastic surgery?"
"Wouldn't you like to know," I muttered, dropping my gaze as my coffee was set down in front of me. From my peripheral vision, I was Mycroft stiff and John's mouth fall open.
"What was that?" Mycroft challenged.
"I said," I met his gaze, "Wouldn't you like to know? There are marvellous surgeries to fix that unfortunate face."
"Sia," John hissed. "This is Mycroft Holmes." Oh, shit… My smile dropped and I gulped. Mycroft Holmes, I knew, was a major figure in the British government. And he was my uncle.
"Oh. Mycroft. Nice to finally meet you."
"Oh-ho-ho! Keeping up with the façade I see." Mycroft leaned in close, close enough for me to smell his last meal… not that I didn't know what it was already. Grape jam on a whole wheat roll, freshly brewed Brazilian coffee… Hmm, someone's on a diet. Well he does need one.
"Would you mind, Uncle, stepping away from my face?" John sighed, and I could just picture him close his eyes and turn his face to the Heavens. Mycroft, however, did not look amused. His face twisted in anger and his lip curled, but he did as I asked and straightened.
"Uncle?" he asked, his voice tight. He cleared it and looked to John. "Is this somehow true?"
"Apparently, yes. Sherlock knew of her and so did Mrs Hudson-"
"I knew she was no good-"
"No need to be rude, Uncle."
"Rude?" John sighed and put his head in his hands.
"Yes."
"Then who are you?
"Aren't you supposed to be a genius?" Uncle's face srewed up in a sneer. "Did you not ever meet Ismilda Jones? No? Seems as though father has kept some secrets from you, now hasn't he?" Mycroft gave one last glance at John and one more glare at me, before leaving. John watched him go and noticed him heading for the apartment.
"Oh, no," he whispered, before standing and running after Mycroft. I sighed once more before leaning back in my chair. I took a long swig of coffee. When I set it down, a man sat across from me, taping some sort of rhythm on his fingers.
"Hello, Miss Holmes," said the voice of a man I had only heard twice before. I felt the blood drain from my face as I looked at the man who had killed my mother only a day before; Moriarty.
"What do you want?" I asked, sounding stronger than I actually felt. He shrugged.
"Just to personally meet you, face to face."
"Oh yeah?" My fear turned into anger in a heartbeat. "Well, piss off, if you like your face the way it is."
"Oh, that hurt," he said in mock hurt.
My anger got the better of me, and without another word, I grabbed the butter knife that had rested on the table and tried to jam it into his hand, but he grabbed my wrist before I could, his face angry. His grip tightened and I gasped in pain as he twisted my wrist until I dropped the knife. He smiled venomously and tightened his grip even more. Now I was gasping in pain; gasping as if his hand was not around my wrist but instead around my neck. Tears began to gather in my eyes and I did the only thing I could think to do and kicked him as hard as I could. His grip lessened ever so slightly and I ripped my arm away, my wrist red and slightly raw. I cradled it in my hand and looked around at the other people, only just now noticing they all were being kept away by Moriarty's henchmen who all held guns. Still breathing heavily I started to back away from Moriarty. He rose from his chair and I wanted to run, but he anticipated my move.
He shook his head and said, "No, little Miss Holmes. You run, and everyone in here dies. Come with me, and they shall live to see another day." He put his arms out wide and smiled.
"What is this to you?" I asked quietly. "What is this?!" I yelled, the tears that had welled in my eyes began to fall one by one. Who was this man to think he can come and ruin my life, take away my mother and threaten to take me away as well?
His smile simply widened. "This is the game, my dear!" His smile dropped and his look became feral. "Welcome to it." His men began to circle in on me, coming closer and closer. I tried to back away, but a tall guard grabbed me from behind. I tried to scream, but he clamped a hand over my mouth and started to drag me back. Moriarty and his henchmen followed us out the door as I tried to struggle away, but it was no use. The man who held me was too strong. I was thrown into a car and I looked out the back window, trying to get other people's attention so they could help me. I was being kidnapped! Could no one see?
Just when we got about a mile away from the building, it exploded, killing all the people inside and all the people around. I screamed no and began to sob, thinking my father had died with those people as well. Moriarty, who was in the passenger seat, turned around and laughed.
"Don't worry," he said. "Sherlock's not dead. Yet." He laughed again.
"You monster!" I lunged at him from the back of the car, but the man who had dragged me out grabbed me before I could hit him.
"Now, now, Miss Holmes, do play nice." He cooed.
The last thing I heard before his henchmen knocked me out was his methodical laughter.
…
3rd Person
…
Sherlock's ears were ringing as he came back to his senses. He remembered arguing with Mycroft (again) before the floor erupted and everything in the room went black. He remembered yelling at his brother for barging into his flat and claiming his daughter was Irene, and then freaked out when he saw the real Irene. Sherlock had yelled in defense of both girls when John walked in and tried to defuse the tension. Mycroft had scuffed at John and said something rude, then yelled as Mrs. Hudson came up in her dressing gown, trying to figure out what was going on. Again, Sherlock fired back at Mycroft (this time along with John and Irene) for telling the poor woman to shut up. Mycroft didn't apologize like he did last time, but instead added to the noise. Irene had stopped yelling for a moment and then made everyone stop yelling because she had something to say. She asked where Sofia was. Sherlock just realized she had not come back with John, he turned to him, but John only said she had stayed in the bakery. Sherlock was about to go down to the bakery when everything exploded.
Now he lay on his back, his mind racing. He went to move and finds that his head was throbbing painfully, but he can still move. He stood and looks around… the flat was destroyed. Lestrade will be here soon, he thought. But it didn't matter. He knew he had to find the other people in this flat. Coughing, he began to walk around.
"John!" he called. A cough came in response, and Sherlock went to the sound, seeing Johns clouded face in the debris. He dug John out and looked him over. "Are you alright, John?"
"Yeah," he said, nodding. "You?"
"Fine."
"Right. Where's… Where is everyone?"
"I don't know, but we can't worry about that right now."
"W-What?"
"Sorry. That was bad, wasn't it?" John only nodded. Sherlock sighed and began to look for everyone else. John followed suit and within no time they had dug everyone out. Mycroft seemed pissed, but Sherlock paid him no attention. Lestrade, Donovan and a few other detectives ran in and started asking Sherlock questions, but he couldn't hear them. His mind was set on getting out of there and finding his daughter.
"John!" he called again. His faithful companion walked up to him. "We need to get to Saint Barts. Now." John, for one, was astounded.
"Sherlock, we can't just leave!"
"We have to!" Sherlock made to leave and looked over his shoulder to see John still standing where he had been a moment ago. "Are you coming?"
"No." Sherlock sighed. A part of him needed John to come… That part of him was human, in a way; needing attention from the people he love, needing to find his family, needing- wanting- someone to be there for him. That part of him was what people would call a heart. That part wasn't touched by his sociopathic tendencies. That part was what Moriarty wanted to burn out. But Sherlock wasn't about to let him do that. The other part of him- the sociopathic part that only wanted to beat Moriarty- Seem to be stronger at that moment, as it was at almost every other moment. So, before he could speak, his body made him turn from John and made him walk out of his flat as if his human side wasn't even there.
But John wouldn't take it. He got angry quickly, not even realizing what Sherlock was planning to do would take all his support.
"Get back here!" he yelled. Sherlock turned around and was met with John's fist in his face.
"John…" Sherlock staggered back.
"No! Don't John me! Your brother, Mrs. Hudson, your little girlfriend and I have all just been in an explosion and your leaving us!" Now Sherlock became angry.
"My daughters out there somewhere, John! And I don't even know if she's alive!" With that, Sherlock's sociopathic side took over and he turned and left, wanting nothing more than to get away from this emotional madness. John, though Sherlock did not know, realized his mistake and made to go after him, his face softer than before. But a hand on his shoulder had stopped him.
"Let my brother cool off," came the voice of Mycroft Holmes. John felt helpless with the man's hand on him like that. He didn't know whether to trust Mycroft's advice and let Sherlock go, or go after Sherlock anyway. John settled for a sigh and a shake of the head, before going to find Lestrade.
…
"Molly!" Sherlock yelled as he got into the forensic lab. Molly jumped and looked up to him. Her face changed from fear to concern in a few seconds when she saw he was covered in soot and dust.
"Sherlock, what happened to you?" she asked as she came closer to him. He shook his head and began to speak frantically.
"None of that now, Molly, please. I need your help with something."
"Of course, Sherlock! But let's get you cleaned up first-"
"NO! I need you to promise me you'll help me! Please!"
"O-okay. I promise I'll help." She took a step back from him. "What do you need me to do?" Sherlock smiled gratefully as he told her his plan.
…
Sofia
…
When I woke up, I felt instantly cold. I couldn't feel my feet or my hands and as I opened my eyes I saw that I was in a world of trouble. I was face down on some sort of raft. I looked around and began to panic. This was not good. I was on a floatation device, my feet in the English Channel, my arms tied behind my back and my head bleeding. Oh great. Now I've got to worry about the damn sharks. I used all my strength to push myself on my knees, swaying violently from the water. Okay, let's think… Don't fall into the water. Hypothermia will set in within minutes and if my head goes under, I'm screwed. I settled myself the middle of the raft, my legs crossed in front of me, and got ready for a long day. God, it was freezing!
"Moriarty," I said aloud. "I'm gunna kill you!" I can't believe I'm stuck here! Does anybody know that I'm here? How long did it take me to get here?
Well, it takes-
Don't answer that question!
… Four and a half hours.
"Oh, shut up!" A pause. "Oh great. I'm talking to myself!"
Oh, please. It passes the time!
"Shut up!"
I can't if you don't!
"Fine!" Another pause.
Why the hell am I talking to myself, and better yet… why am I yelling at myself?
Needless to say, this was going to be a long day.
…
Hours later, I heard a boat approaching. My head shot up and I yelled to them to attract attention. Thank God Moriarty didn't gag me. Turns out, they were looking for me. Uncle Mycroft was on the ship, covered in dirt and dust. He pointed over to me, and the ship's captain put the boat into idle as it saddled up to me and Uncle's workers helped me up. They all were speaking at once, too.
"Miss Holmes, are you alright?"
"Do you need a blanket?"
"Shall I fetch a phone for you to call your father?"
"I'll get Mr. Holmes-"
"Boys, if you would kindly back away from my niece a moment…" The men backed away and Uncle came to me, siting me down on one of the benches in the front of the boat. "Sofia, are you alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. How did you survive?"
"Whatever do you mean?"
"The explosion! I saw the explosion!"
"Ah, yes. Yes we're all fine. Here, take my mobile and phone John." My detached Uncle gave me his mobile then left. One of his men brought me a shock blanket before leaving me alone. I went through Uncles phone until I found John's number and hit enter. It rang several times before going to voicemail. I sighed and sat back in the bench.
As I left the Channel on that boat, my mind turned to my mother and father. I remembered something that my mother had once taught me, ages ago, and I became excited at the possibility that it might still work. I ask the detective on the ship if he's got a lap top with service. He says he does and goes and fetches it for me as I pull the shock blanket tighter around myself. When he brings it to me, I thank him and go online, searching my father's number. I try to contact him with the phone I was given to contact John (even though he didn't answer) but it went to voice mail. Frustrated, I typed feverishly away on the key board and came up with a way to pull up what he last said on the phone. I sent it to "my" phone and waited for it to come up. What I heard when it did made my heart stop.
"Sofia… I know you will be the first to hear this and I just want to tell you I'm sorry. I'm sorry I've ignored you so long and that I not only endangered you, but got your mother killed. I want you to know that I loved Ismilda very much and that I love you just as much… If not more. When your mother was on the phone with us, she told me to take care of you and that is why I am doing this. Oh, God. Uh, I'm not very good at this, goodbyes I mean. Just… Just know that I'm only doing this to protect you… I love you. Tell John that I'm sorry and please… take care of him…" 'Staying Alive' begins to play in the background. Sherlock sighed. "Tell Mycroft he was the best brother I could have ever asked for. Tell him I love him, too, even though he is an insolent bastard. Sofia… take care." A heavy door was opened and the song became louder.
Then the song stopped and Moriarty's voice came on. "Well. Here we are at last. You and me, Sherlock. And our problem. The Final Problem. "Staying Alive". So boring, isn't it? It's just... staying. All my life I've been searching for distractions. And you were the best distraction and now I don't even have you. Because I've beaten you. And you know what? In the end it was easy. It was easy. Now I've got to go back to playing with the ordinary people. And it turns out you're ordinary. Just like all of them. Oh well." Father didn't reply "Did you almost start to wonder if I was real? Did I nearly get ya?"
"Richard Brook," he finally said.
"Nobody seems to get the joke. But you do."
"Of course."
"'Atta boy."
"Rich Brook in German is Reichenbach. The case that made my name."
"Just tryin' to have some fun," Someone starts tapping and I have a feeling it's father. "Good. You got that too."
"Beats like digits. Every beat is a one, every rest is a zero. Binary code. That's why all those assassins tried to save my life. It was hidden on me, hidden inside my head. A few simple lines of computer code that can break into any system."
"Told all my clients. Last one to Sherlock is a sissy."
"I have the key here. I can get into all the records; I could kill Rich Brook and bring back Jim Moriarty."
"No, no, no, no, NO! It's too easy. It's too easy. There is no key, DUFUS! Those digits are meaningless. There utterly meaningless. You can't possible think a couple of lines of computer code are going to crash the world around you? I'm disappointed. Disappointed in you, ordinary Sherlock."
"But the rhythm…"
"Partita Number one; thank you Johann Sebastian Bach!"
"Then how did you-"
"Break into the bank, to the tower, to the prison. Daylight robbery! All it takes is some willing participants! I knew you'd fall for it. That's your weakness. You always want everything to be clever. Now shall we finish the game? One final act. Glad you chose a tall building. Nice way to do it."
"Do it. Do what? Yes, of course. My suicide."
"'Genius detective proved to be a fraud.' I read it in the paper so it must be true. I love newspapers. Fairy tales... and pretty grim ones too."
Father began to panic. "I can still prove that you created an entirely false identity."
"Oh, just kill yourself. It's a lot less effort. Go on. For me. Pleeeeeeease?"
"You're insane."
"You're just getting that now? Woo oh oh! Okay, let me give you a little extra incentive. Your friends will die if you don't."
"John."
"Not just John. Everyone."
"Sofia."
"Everyone."
"Lestrade. Mrs Hudson. "
"Four bullets. Four gunmen. Four victims. There's no stopping them now. Unless my people see you jump. You can have me arrested, you can torture me. You can do anything you like with me, but nothing's going to prevent them from pulling the trigger. Your only four friends in the world will die. Unless—"
"Unless I kill myself and complete your story."
"You gotta admit, that's sexier."
"And I die in disgrace."
"Of course. That's the point of this." Father takes deep breathes. "Off you pop. Go on. I told you how this ends. Your death is the only thing that's going to call off the killers. I'm certainly not going to do it."
"Just give me… one moment please. One moment of privacy. Please."
"Of course. No rush." Father begins to laugh. "What?! What is it? What did I miss?"
"'You're not going to do it.' So the killers can be called off then. There's a recall code or a word or a number. I don't have to die if I've got you."
"Oh, you think you can make me stop the order? You think you can make me do that?"
"Yes. So do you."
"Sherlock, your big brother and all the King's horses couldn't make me do a thing I didn't want to."
"Yes, but I'm not my brother, remember? I am you. Prepared to do anything. Prepared to burn. Prepared to do what ordinary people won't do. You want me to shake hands with you in hell, I shall not disappoint you."
"Nah. You talk big. Nah. You're ordinary. You're ordinary. You're on the side of the angels."
"Oh, I may be on the side of the angels, but don't think for one second that I am one of them."
"No. No. You're not. I see. You're not ordinary. No. You're me. You're me. Thank you. Sherlock Holmes. Thank you. Bless you. As long as I'm alive, you can save your friends. You've got a way out. Well good luck with that." There's a gun-shot and I hear a body hit the ground. For a moment, I think it might be father, but I learn it's not when he whispers no. I hear him run to the edge of the building, panting heavily. He's quiet, thinking.
And then, father calls John.
"Hello?"
"John," he struggles with.
"Hey, Sherlock, are you okay?"
"Turn around and walk back the way you came."
"No, I'm coming in."
"Just do as I ask. Please."
"Where?"
"Stop there."
"Sherlock."
"Okay, look up. I'm on the rooftop."
"Oh god."
"I— I— I can't come down so we'll just have to do it like this."
"What's going on?"
"An apology. It's all true."
"What?"
"Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty." A pause.
"Why are you saying this?"
"I'm a fake," father says tearfully.
"Sherlock—"
"The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade, I want you to tell Mrs Hudson and Molly. In fact, tell anyone who will listen to you. That I created Moriarty for my own purposes."
"Okay, shut up, Sherlock. Shut up. The first time we met—the first time we met—you knew all about my sister, right?"
"Nobody could be that clever."
"You could." Father chuckles and there is another pause.
"I researched you. Before we met I discovered everything that I could to impress you. It's a trick. It's just a magic trick."
"No. Alright, stop it now."
"No, stay exactly where you are. Don't move."
"Alright."
"Keep your eyes fixed on me. Please, will you do this for me?"
"Do what?"
"This phone call, it's, ah... it's my note. That's what people do, don't they? Leave a note."
"Leave a note when?"
"Goodbye, John."
"No. Don't—"
I dropped the phone, my hands shaking, and this time not from the cold. Tears formed in my eyes and a closed my eyelids tightly, not wanting any of the water to leak from my eyes. I curled up on the side of the boat, the blanket not keeping out the chill. My eyelids loosened and the tears I had been trying to keep back fall freely, just as my father had done when his feet left the roof.
AN: Stuff in italics, except the stuff Sherlock says to Sofia, is from a wonderful website, quotes/sherlock/series-two/the-reichenbach-fall/, and from listening a billion times to a recording I made from the end of the episode on my mobile, so that should all be just as it is in the episode… except for the on time I added Sofia's name in the 'Everyone' sequence.
