"Nighty, night, Sherrrly! Time to say… goodbye," Moriarty smiled, but his eyes were deadened.
"I don't think so," Sherlock replied, immovably.
They stood atop the Reichenbach building, still, gazes locked, waiting.
Waiting.
The traffic continued on below, colourful lights in the dark, but above it was silent.
"The Game beginsssss,"
The hiss was low, quiet, barely discernible.
"Life…or death…you…or me,"
Still.
Silent.
A finger twitch.
A blink.
They lunged.
Jim's hand at Sherlock's throat. Sherlock retaliated, a jab in the side. Jim doubles, counterattack. Sherlock dodges.
Never do they lose that precious eye contact. The next move is everything.
Sherlock's back is to the rooftops edge. There is no countermove, when Jim lunges again.
"Nighty, night, Sherrrly! Time to say… goodbye," Moriarty smiled, but his eyes were deadened.
"I don't think so," Sherlock replied, immovably.
And as the toppling sensation began, he reached out, thin fingers grasping the lapel of Moriarty's coat. There was a hint of surprise in Jim's eyes.
The Fall was silent.
Moriarty no longer was Sherlock's concern.
John.
Mycroft. Mummy. Irene.
Irene and Nero.
He shut his eyes.
And there was nothing.
He had run. He had run and called the police at the same time. The damn elevators weren't working. He took the stairs.
"The Reichenbach building. Moriarty. Come right now,"
Fragments. They would have to do.
Mycroft.
"Reichenbach, Moriarty, Sherlock. Come. Now,"
They had been on the roof.
The god damned roof.
He shoved the door open.
The force of the shock hit John like a brick wall. He stood at the doorway, watching.
Sherlock was Falling.
He saw the hand, barely, and then Moriarty was falling too.
He was running again.
He couldn't hear himself screaming.
Irene,
That was how the letter began. No special introduction, just her name.
Know that if you turn on the news this week, you will not be pleased.
There isn't much else to say.
Take care of John.
It goes without saying, but take care of Nero as well.
I've become… fond…of you both.
Love is a petty word.
Yours,
Sherlock.
p.s. Montenegro is nice this time of year.
She didn't turn on the news.
She took Nero, packed, bought plane tickets, and left.
Mycroft didn't run. He walked. There was a deadening to his stride.
Two dead men lay on the ground before him.
A brother.
His brother.
He dreaded the call to Mother.
As he surveyed the scene, Mycroft spotted John, slumped up against the brick wall, defeated. Blood on his hands, on his clothes.
Tear stains down his cheeks.
The ambulance crew was just rushing in. He could hear it now. Two. Dead on arrival.
What he didn't expect was a dead woman.
"Ms. Adler,"
"Mr. Holmes,"
"You got here awfully fast from wherever you were hiding, yes?"
"America. You can thank your brother for that, when next you meet him,"
"He saved you then?"'
"Of course," Neither spoke. "He wrote me a letter. A week ago. Told me not to watch the news. Now they're calling him a fraud. He was not a fraud! Her previously calm voice broke slightly with the utterance.
"What else did it say?"
"I'm to take care of Doctor Watson…"
"And?" She turned to him suddenly, and Mycroft noticed the rim of gloss to her eyes.
"He loved me. He was no fraud," She stated simply, and pushed past him.
"Something has gotten to you. What is it? What!" Mycroft hastily turned back towards her, grasping her arm.
"If you protect me, I'll testify on his behalf, but only if you protect me. Then I leave. I go away. You never see me again. Understood?" There was a frigid air to her statement.
"Are where would you go away to?"
"Montenegro is nice this time of year,"
Mycroft let his hand fall from her arm, and they both turned back to look at John, still sitting in shock, alone unmoving.
"So he told you then?"
"Of course he did. I'm his Woman,"
Sorry it's a little late, but I still haven't seen all of Reichenbach. I'd only seen from the fall to the end at first, and then i put off watching it until today. I just got to Sally being a total bitch and falling for Jim's plan. Anyways, I've got the next part in my head, but I want to watch the rest of the episode first, to see if I can see what Moffat claims we've all been missing.
I was very tempted to simply kill Sherlock and be done with it.
I promise, Mycroft will have that apoplectic fit when he finds out about Nero. Eventually.
Next up, Martin - the rage of Freeman.
Oh, wrote the 'fall' before I saw anything, so that was my interpretation of it. But you can still take the episode with this, I hope. I liked it better at night.
