Chapter IV

The range of light illuminated the room and alowed to Sherlock what was inside the room. The music was coming from a gramophone and a music box with a little prince dancing on it. It was dying now. In a corner of the room was a dossal bed. It was someone lying there. The walls were covered with old painting, mirrors,a wardrobe and a writing-desk. Sherlock approached the bed.

John was there, with his wrists bound and a gag. His eyes were wide open and he had a stroke on his front.

"John, oh John, oh… are you alright?" he took the gag off.

John coughed.

"Sherlock… he kidnapped me…"

"Where is he?"

"Hello, my dear Dr. Jekyll!" Moriarty said, coming from behind the wardrobe. He had a gun on his hand.

"You bastard, why have you done this to John? You wanted me…" Sherlock said.

"Oh, but this way is much more exciting, isn't it!? In this house, with John there, waiting all day. It was not very easy to catch him, so I need to strike him in the head, you know, to make him stop. And then I came here, a haunted house… no one enters here. And we waited for you. You are intelligent Sherlock, very clever…"

"What do you want now, Jim?"

"Let me finish, clever boy!" exclaimed Moriarty "…so, I want to test you again. Test your resistance, test you way to deal with threats and danger. Tell me, how do you deal with perils?"

"You did this already Jim. Stop being so boring and do something different." Sherlock sighed.

Moriarty pointed the gun at John and shot. John shouted and Sherlock too:

"JOHN!" he ran to the bed, in shock.

Blood was leaking out from John's chest, like a string. Sherlock was unable to think, with the vision of all that blood falling from his friend.

"Sherlock, Sherlock… please, help me…" John was almost crying. The pain was too strong.

"I'm here, John, I won't let you go…" he looked at Moriarty "You didn't need to shoot Watson! You son of a…"

"Hey hey hey! Hold on clever boy! You told I'm too boring, so I needed to do something different. The other time I didn't blow up with you friend, so, this time I made it different. He shot him. I killed him." Jim laughed, with his hysterical laugh.

Sherlock ran towards Jim and punched him in the stomach.

"I hate you, Moriarty, I hate you and I will make you pay!"

Jim turned to laugh.

"I only wanted to see you resistance to fear and danger, come on! I like you, you are my enemy… you're not as good as me."

John was moaning higher. Sherlock left Moriarty and staggered to his friend. He held his face on his hands.

"John, John… look at me." John gazed into his friend's eyes. His vision was kind of clouded.

Sherlock unbuttoned John's shirt and saw the wound, between the heart and the stomach. The blood was draining faster; John was feverish and almost senseless. He took his scarf and tried to transform it in a compress.

John cried, moaning:

"Don't…don't…let me…die…plea…se"

Sherlock started to cry. He was not so convinced like he was sooner.

Moriarty sighed.

"Oh Sherlock, Sherlock… now I know you cry. I'm not like you. Now I know it. I don't cry. I'm stronger, Sherlock. I won."

"You won nothing!"

"I won because I saw you sad and miserable. I dreamt with this picture for a long time, Sherlock. Thank you for giving it to me."

And he left the room, leaving Sherlock and John behind.

Sherlock didn't know what to do, he was lost. I searched for his mobile phone and called an ambulance.

" My friend is dying, he got shot. Come fast!"

And then he took the rope that was blinding John's wrists and sat by his side, holding his wrist, checking his pulse.

"Please, please, John… don't die…" Sherlock said, crying.

"Save…me…" John moaned, sizzling.