So here he was, at the pool. He knew he would soon be face to face with the genius behind the game he had been playing. He heard footsteps behind him so he turned.
"Evening." John was standing there, with a solemn look on his face. "This is a turn up, isn't it Sherlock?" His voice was broken, and fearful.
"John… what the hell?" He didn't understand, he was supposed to be at Sarah's, safe.
"Bet you never saw this coming." John opened up his coat. Underneath was enough semtex to blow this building and the ones either side of it to shreds. And there was a red dot dancing on his chest – sniper. "What would you like me to make him say next? Gottle geer, gottle geer, gottle geer."
"Stop it." Whoever was playing this trick was cruel. John continued.
"Nice touch this, the pool, where little Carl died. I stopped him," John took a sharp intake of breath. "I can stop John Watson too, stop his heart." Sherlock's heart skipped a beat. He would not lose his John twice.
"Who are you?" he called. A soft, Irish voice came from the back door. It sent shivers down Sherlock's spine.
"I gave you my number I thought you might call." He walked forward into view. "Is that a British army browning L9A1 in your pocket? Or are you just pleased to see me?" A sly grin grew on his face.
"Both." Sherlock stood in awe of this young, flouncey man, amazed that he was able to do everything that had happened in the past few days.
"Jim Moriarty, hi. Jim? Jim from school?" Sherlock's eyes narrowed. It had been years! He still couldn't quite believe Jim had hated him for this long. Sherlock glanced at John. "Don't be silly someone else is holding the rifle, I don't like getting hands dirty. I've given you a glimpse Sherlock, just a tinsy glimpse of what I've got going on out there in the big bad world. I'm a specialist, you see, like you."
"Dear Jim, please will you fix it for me? To get rid of my lover's nasty sister. Dear Jim, please will you fix it for me? To make me disappear to South America." Sherlock spoke in both disgust and amazement.
"Just so," Jim said in a mock English accent. Jim always used to do that at school, to try and fit in.
"Consulting criminal, brilliant." Sherlock truly found this man inspiring, if only he hadn't become a criminal, he could have been a genius. He could have been a Sherlock. Or Sherlock could have been him.
"Isn't it? No one ever gets to me. And no one ever will."
"I did," said Sherlock, filled with his own importance, knowing that he was the one with the gun. Jim shrugged, considering.
"You've come the closest, now you're in my way."
"Thank you," he replied in a smile.
"I didn't mean it as a compliment."
"Yes you did."
"Yeah okay I did," Jim said in a very cutesy way. "But the flirting's over Sherlock daddy's had enough now." His voice rose as he got to the end of the sentence. "I've shown you what I can do. I cut loose all those people, all those little problems, even 30 million quid just to get you to come out and play. So take this as a friendly warning, my dear, back off." His face kept changing between hatred, disgust , and flirty. "Although I have loved this, this little game of ours, playing Jim from IT, playing gay. Did you like the little touch with the underwear?" Sherlock smiled inside, it was clever. Who knew the mayor's nasty son could become a master criminal, one to Sherlock's level of intelligence. But the awe turned to disgust again as Sherlock saw John out of the corner of his eye.
"People have died."
"That's what people do!" He screamed the last word and it echoed through the pool room. In that face he could see the face of Jim Moriarty when he had pushed John in the pond that day, the day of him and John's 'wedding'. That was a day he hadn't thought of for a long time.
"I will stop you," he stated.
"No you wont." Both of them seemed very sure of themselves.

Sherlock couldn't wait any longer; he needed to know John was okay.
"You alright?" he asked. John didn't move, for fear of the red dot dancing on his chest. Jim walked over to John and spoke in his ear.
"You can talk Johnny boy, go ahead." John nodded at Sherlock. It killed Sherlock; he had to save his John.
"Take this." He offered Jim the memory stick. Surely this was what he wanted.
"Oh, that, the missile plans." He placed his delicate lips onto it in a kiss. "Boring! I could have got them anywhere." And with that he threw it into the pool without a second thought. In that same second, John jumped on him from behind and held him at his throat.
"Sherlock run," he ordered. Sherlock stood still. He was not leaving here without his John. Jim laughed.
"Oh good! Very good." Pulling tight at his neck John said,
"If your sniper pulls that trigger Mr. Moriarty then we both go up." Jim continued to laugh, whilst struggling against John's army-taught strength.
"Isn't he sweet? I can see why you like having him around. But then people do get so sentimental about their pets. So touchingly loyal. But oops, you've rather shown your hand there Dr Watson." The red dot on John's chest jumped from him to Sherlock. Sherlock sighed and shook his head at John to tell him it's not worth it. "Gotcha." Jim brushed himself down in disapproval. "Westwood." Jim turned to Sherlock in a very menacing way and said, "do you know what happens if you don't leave me alone Sherlock? To you?"
"Oh let me guess I get killed." Sherlock was not impressed by this unimaginative threat. How many times had he been threatened before?
"Kill you?" He looked disappointed at this plain suggestion. "No don't be obvious, I mean I'm going to kill you anyway someday, I don't want to rush it though, I'm saving it for something special. No, no, no, if you don't stop prying I will burn you;" his face changed dramatically, it really was quite scary. "I will burn the heart out of you."
"I have been reliably informed that I don't have one," Sherlock snarled.
"But we both know that's not quite true." The heart that Sherlock had denied shattered. It took all of his might to not look at John as he said this. "Well, I'd better be off. It was so nice to have a proper chat."
"What I was to shoot you now, right now?" Sherlock raised the gun in his hand higher, so Jim could see the threat.
"You could cherish the look of surprise on my face," to which he showed Sherlock a very exaggerated, gaping look. "Because I'd be surprised Sherlock really I would. And just a tinsy bit disappointed." He shrugged. "And of course you wouldn't be able to cherish it for very long." Jim looked between John and Sherlock and then said with disgust, "ciao, Sherlock Holmes." As he watched Jim leave Sherlock said very slowly,
"Catch. You. Later." A high pitched call came from the other side of the door.
"No you won't."

Sherlock waited for a few minutes, still holding the gun to the door that Jim had just walked through until he eventually lowered the gun and dived at John, desperately trying to get the bomb off of him.
"Alright, are you alright?" he asked.
"Yeah, yeah I'm fine, Sherlock I'm fine." John said breathlessly as his legs buckled and he collapsed to the floor. "You okay?" Sherlock was pacing back and forth, stupidly scratching the back of his head with the gun.
"Me, hmm, yep I'm fine." He paused and then said, "That, that thing that you did, that you offered to do, that was good." He desperately wanted to tell John how he loved him, how he was so sorry that he had put his life in danger, but he knew that John would leave him now and he wanted to keep as much dignity as he had left.
"Well I'm glad no one saw that."
"Hmm," was all Sherlock could say in reply, filling up with emotions he could not control.
"You ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool, people might talk."
"People do little else." Sherlock smiled. John had made a joke; maybe he wouldn't lose his John after all.

"Sorry boys, I'm so changeable." Jim re-entered the room. The grin on his face was even more threatening than it had been before. "It is a weakness in me but to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness. You can't be allowed to continue. You just can't. I would try to convince you but everything I have to say has already crossed your mind." The way he talked was spoken like a true madman. Sherlock looked at John, who nodded in return. They understood each other. That understanding that had lasted from the age of 10 years old. Sherlock took one last look at his one true love and then turned to Jim.
"And probably my answer has crossed yours." Slowly he lowered the gun, so that the barrel was pointing directly at the bomb.
"I loved you, Sherlock Holmes." Jim whispered with a curl of his lips as Sherlock squeezed the trigger.

3 things happened simultaneously.
1. The jacket that John had been wearing only minutes earlier exploded into a mass of bright white light, smoke, force and silence. The energy it released destroyed anything and everything in it's past, forcing it away from itself.
2. John ran at Sherlock, pushing him into the pool so that he was engulfed completely by water. The explosion caused a fierce rippling effect in the pool, the force of it pushing Sherlock to the end and slamming him against the side.
3. As he pushed Sherlock into the pool, the explosion lifted John off of his feet and sent him flying into the back wall where he came crashing down, unconscious. Shrapnel was flying everywhere and parts of the ceiling and walls fell down on top of him.