Chapter 10
Jameson Moran Moriarty gazed at his young charge with a certain contempt. "You had to decide to look like your father, didn't you?" He commented, watching with glee as Ian's jaw tensed violently.
"My parent's decided that, not me. What d'you want with dad, anyway? Revenge?" Ian asked, even though he already knew the answer.
Jameson smiled. "Sure…kid." He said softly, ruffling Ian's hair. "Did you know, that your dad was supposed to be dead, eighteen years ago? My dad, (rest his soul) blew his brains out to force yours to jump…off of the roof of this very building. Now, I'm just doing what my dad always dreamed. But I have no quarrel with you and your family. Once Sherlock dies, you can leave."
Ian flinched inwardly at Jameson's monologue, looking up from the toes of his shoes to see his father dragging himself out of the elevator, a look of rage in his eyes.
"Ah…Sherl! You were just a little late this time, weren't you? And just in time to save your son from blowing up the building! You didn't think your time would come, did you?" Jameson mocked, watching Sherlock's anger flare at the statement.
"You have me…let him go! He has no part in this…just leave my family alone!" Sherlock grabbed hold of his son's hand, and pushed him into the elevator. "Stay." He ordered, closing the doors in Ian's face.
"Don't worry, Sherl. I didn't care about your stupid off-spring anyway…sooooo boring! You, on the other hand, are something else. It's your turn, Mr. Holmes to pay your dues." Jameson reminded, sternly pushing his adversary closer to the edge of the building. He shrugged apologetically. "This is just what my father wanted…and he'll get to see it, from his window in hell."
Sherlock flipped up his coat collar, as he stepped onto the lip of the roof. His whole body tensed, ready for the fall. He glanced at his phone, ready to dial Mycroft's number.
Moriarty grinned evilly. "Oh, don't try texting your brother, Sherlock. He's under constant surveillance from my men. Any text from you, and he gets it. You savvy?"
Sherlock nodded comprehendingly, dialing John's number instead. "Just…let me talk to John….please." He pleaded, biting his lower lip in order to hide his emotions. "H-hello, John? Yes, it's me. This is my note….that's what people leave, isn't it? A note? Tell Molly to remember that she was loved by me, that she's made my life a very happy one and that there's no tragedy in that. I…I'm sorry, for all the pain I've caused you all." Sherlock quickly hung up, in order to stop John's confused babbling. He dropped his phone over the edge, and watched it crash to the concrete.
"You ready, Sherl? I mean, you know you can't take forever." Moriarty prodded, tapping Sherlock's shoulder impatiently with the barrel of his revolver. "I'm going to take my own life once this is all over. My father died up here, and I will too."
Sherlock shook his head, and stepped into the air, readying himself for the pain of hitting the pavement. "Dear God…into your hands I commend my spirit." He prayed anxiously, closing his eyes as the concrete met his head. Darkness enveloped him instantly.
Sorry, that I had to do this...but it was kind of necessary...:(