The Reichenbach Fall, a painting that he helped find. The case that apparently made his name.
The case that made Sherlock Holmes famous.
It was easy. It barley took John and he a few day to figure it out and find the painting.
But now he was known by most of England and is now a man who was wanted to help with other cases, a Banker who was kidnapped and capturing Ricolette. A man who had been on the most wanted list since 1982. It was easy to find and capture him.
Lestrade and the officers got him the hat that he had worn once before when he was just an 'Internet Phenomenon' it had become the 'Sherlock Holmes hat' according to John.
"Boffin Sherlock Holmes solves another"
Boffin? Why the hell was he Boffin? Evie would probably be giggling like crazy if she was reading these papers.
He wondered if she was reading about him.
Or would she ignore the media and just listen to what Mycroft and Lestrade have to tell her about him?
John was worried for him.
He was worried about what people think, worried that the press would turn on him.
Sherlock couldn't understand why it upset John, it should upset him. Not John.
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He was back.
Jim Moriarty is back.
He broke into the Tower of London, the Bank of England and Pentonville Prison all at the same time on the same day. He was caught; he waited at the Tower of London for the police.
Sherlock was a key witness against him. John tried to tell him to not be himself. He ignored John of course.
But apparently he was too much of a 'smart-ass' as both John and Evie would call him and was thrown in overnight prison.
In the cell next to Moriarty.
John was annoyed with him but posted his bail.
Sherlock knew that Moriarty wanted to get caught because he chose to be there. He tried to explain it to John, the problem being, he couldn't work out why.
Not guilty.
Jim Moriarty was found not guilty.
He didn't give any evidence and was found at the scene of the crime.
But was found innocent.
He would be on his way to see Sherlock now.
Tea.
He decided to make tea.
And then wait.
Moriarty let himself in whilst Sherlock played a tune on Inara, he knew Moriarty was there.
"Most people knock." Sherlock stated gruffly as the door opened. "But then you're not most people I suppose. Kettles just boiled."
He entered the room and took an apple and took a seat in Sherlock's chair. He spoke about a man who finished a boy's piano piece despite the fact that he was dying, whilst Sherlock made the tea.
Moriarty had scared the jury by threatening with someone or something that they love using the cable network.
He tapped on his knee a movement that, to Sherlock, felt too specific to just be him tapping.
Sherlock knew why he had done it, broken into all those places but he didn't take anything, he didn't need to because nothing could match the value of the key that got him in to all three.
A few tiny lines of computer code.
Binary.
"The man with the key is king, and honey you should see me in a crown." Moriarty told him. Telling him that he is the king, he is powerful and Sherlock believed him. He was showing the world exactly what he could do during the trail so that everyone knew. Knew Jim Moriarty. "They all want me. Suddenly, I'm Mr Sex."
Why was he doing this? That was one thing Sherlock could not figure out.
He wanted to solve a problem apparently. The fall, something or someone is going to fall.
"I've never liked riddles." Sherlock started standing up, the conversation was finished.
They both knew that.
"Learn to, because I owe you a fall. Sherlock." Moriarty told him standing up and although Sherlock was a few inches taller he felt that they were level. He had never felt that, at least not in this way. Moriarty was on his level and that terrified him. "I. Owe. You."
With that Moriarty left, leaving behind his knife dug into the un-eaten apple that had 'I O U' engraved on to it.
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It was quiet for the next two months. Nothing much happened, Sherlock took Johns earlier advice and took small cases for those months.
He tried to stay out of the press.
Which Mycroft was very glad for.
He brought John to the house in which he did all of his work in, he had to speak with him. John seemed surprised that he had read the newspaper. A Kitty Riley had gotten information about Sherlock from a man apparently called 'Richard Brooke'
"School friend maybe?" John asked.
Mycroft couldn't help a laugh, "Of Sherlock's?" He did have a friend, a best friend. But she wouldn't tell anyone anything about Sherlock, especially not for the newspaper, no matter what. A thought that brought guilt once more on Mycroft's thoughts. He left Evie out of it; he would not allow her to be in danger. "But that's not why I asked you here." Mycroft changed the subject.
The people living near 221B Baker Street was the reason John was brought there. Mycroft was worried for his brother, and found that he was also worried for John but he would not admit that.
"Why don't you talk to Sherlock if you're so concerned about him?" John had to know. Mycroft looked away, he couldn't. Sherlock wouldn't listen. He would insist that it was safe. That he would be ok. "Oh God, don't tell me." John knew.
Siblings.
"Too much history between us John. Old scores, resentments." He hates me for allowing Evie to go. For seeing Evie so often, when Sherlock hadn't seen her in over 3 years.
"Nicked all his Smurfs?" John asked sarcastically, "Broke his action man."
No, Evie did that...
Mycroft just frowned at him and John decided to leave. Mycroft hoped he would look after Sherlock.
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The ambassador of the U.S' two children had vanished from their school down in Surry. But it didn't take Sherlock long to figure it out, Grimm fairy tales, the book was found in the draw. It felt significant to Sherlock; it was in a paper bag with a seal on it.
Footprints were found on the floor, thanks to the boy that was taken; he left Linseed oil to track them.
Thank God for spy books.
Sherlock took tiny bits of the footprints to examine later.
He knew how the kidnapper got in; it was while parents collected their children.
Easy.
It took him a few hours to figure out everywhere the kidnapper had been, i.e. Moriarty, by the chemical traces on his shoe.
Chalk
Asphalt
Brick dust
Vegetation
Fifth?
He could not figure out the last molecule.
"You're a bit like my dad." Molly told him, she was helping him with the chemicals. "He's dead. No, sorry"
"Molly. Please don't feel the need to make conversation." He liked silence when he worked. "It's really not your area."
"When...when he was dying he was always really cheerful. He was lovely." Molly pressed. "Except when he thought no one could see." Sherlock knew what she was getting at. He gritted his teeth but chose to stay silent, "I saw him once. He looked...sad."
"Molly." Sherlock warned. He wanted her to stop talking.
She was correct and he wanted her to stop.
To stop being right.
To stop talking.
"You look sad." Molly continued. "When you think he can't see you."
He didn't need to ask who he is.
Sherlock knew it; he allowed his mask to drop. Rarely. But it happened. Not in front of John.
His friend.
Sherlock glanced up at John who was staring intently at something.
"Are you ok?" Molly asked as Sherlock looked at her, "And don't just say you are because I know what that means...looking sad when you think no one can see you."
"But you can see me." When did he ever allow his mask to drop in front of her? In front of anyone expect perhaps Mycroft?
As strange as it seemed Sherlock would allow his mask to drop in front of Mycroft because Mycroft had seen him at his worse.
Knew him better than anyone else.
"I don't count." Molly answered immediately.
Did she really think that? That she was so low in his eyes.
She was something.
Yes her crush on him was annoying, but he cared for her did he not?
"What I'm trying to say is," Molly pressed on, "If there's anything, I can do, anything you need. Anything at all. You can have me." Molly looked annoyed at herself, "No, I just mean...I mean if there's anything you need...it's fine."
"But...what can I need from you?" Sherlock asked curtly.
"Nothing." Molly answered and shrugged, "I don't know...you could probably say thank you actually."
"Thank you." Sherlock was slightly confused but touched. Molly was willing to be there for him.
To help him if need be.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
It turned out the Grimm fairy tales book was specific.
Hansel and Gretel.
PGPR
The fifth substance.
Chocolate.
The witch house, the children were there and they would die if he didn't help them soon.
Thanks to his homeless network he found the old warehouse the Children would be.
Addlestone.
They found them. The children, just in time.
The girl was terrified of him. She screamed when she saw him.
Why?
He didn't get along with kids but nothing to that extent.
Something of him reminded her of the kidnapper.
What did Moriarty do?
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
"This is the story of Sir Boast-a-lot." A TV in the Taxi was turned on and Moriarty was on the screen telling a story. "Sir Boast-a-lot was the bravest and cleverest knight of the round table but soon the other knights begun to grow tired of his stories of how brave he was and how many dragons he'd slayed." Sherlock knew what he saw saying. Sherlock was Sir Boast-a-lot and the other knights were the police officers. "And so they began to wonder are Sir Boast-a-lot's stories even true? Oh, no." The other officers didn't trust him. "So what if the knights went to King Arthur," Lestrade, chief of the police, "And said 'I don't believe Sir Boast-a-lot's stories, he's just a big old liar who makes things up to make himself up, to make himself look good.' And then...even the King began to wonder..." No, Lestrade…he wouldn't doubt him? Would he? Lestrade knew him. Lestrade wouldn't doubt him. Would he? "But that wasn't the end of Sir Boast-a-lot's problem. No." Moriarty shook his head to add effect, "That wasn't the final problem. The End." The TV switched off. Sherlock had to get out. He felt trapped. As soon as he was out, he went to the driver.
"WHAT WAS THAT?" Sherlock shouted to the driver.
It was Moriarty driving.
Sherlock tried to run after the cab but he couldn't and was almost run over, a man saved his life and was shot.
He was shot because he shook Sherlock's hand.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
There was someone watching them.
Once the police and ambulance were sorted, Sherlock run up to his flat in Bakers Street and it didn't take him long to find the camera. It wasn't long after that when Lestrade walked into the flat, "No, inspector." He didn't want to go to prison or be questioned.
He was busy.
"What?" Lestrade asked.
"The answers no."
"You haven't heard the question?"
"You're here to take me to the station. I'm just saving you the trouble of asking."
Lestrade sighed lightly, "Sherlock-"
"Scream?" They think he did it all because the little girl screamed when she saw him.
"Yeah." Lestrade admitted looking distressed.
"Was it Donavon? I bet it was Donavon." She had never liked him from the moment he stepped in the station to help them. To her, he was a 'Freak' he hated that word. "Am I somehow responsible for the kidnapping? Oh, Moriarty is smart. He planted that doubt in her head. That little nagging sensation, you're gonna have to be strong to resist. You can't kill an idea, can you?" Lestrade looked sheepish and upset but Sherlock wasn't angry. He understood, Lestrade had to do it. He was an officer of the law. "Not once it's made its home. Right there." Sherlock reached forward and gently poked Lestrade's forehead.
Moriarty wanted a picture of him being arrested.
Sherlock wouldn't let him get it.
But Lestrade will have to come back. He'll have to, with other police officers.
"Sherlock…" John stated as he watched them drive off, "I don't want the world believing you're..." John cut himself off but Sherlock knew exactly what he was going to say. A kidnapper? A murder? An Idiot? A Fraud?
"That I am what?"
"A fraud."
"You're worried they're right." Sherlock could read John like a book and John was terrified that they were right. That he is a fraud.
Sherlock had never wanted to talk to Evie anymore than he did at that moment. She would never believe anything anyone said about him. She knew him for real.
"What?"
"You're worried they're right about me." Sherlock repeated.
"No." John immediately denied.
"That's why you're so upset you can't even to entertain the possibility that they might be right. You're afraid that you've been taken in as well."
"No I'm not." John wasn't looking at him.
"Moriarty is playing with your mind too. Can't you SEE what's going on?" Sherlock hit the table in anger.
He was angry.
He didn't care what people thought about him.
He didn't care if they thought he was a fraud.
He did care what John thought about him.
If he thought Sherlock is a fraud.
"Now, I know you for real." John commented.
"100 percent." Sherlock murmured feeling guilty for shouting.
"And nobody could fake being such an annoying dick all the time." John commented and Sherlock looked up at him. John believed him.
Relief took over him and Sherlock couldn't help smiling.
Yes, he will be arrested. People will believe that he is a fraud.
But John believed him.
It wasn't long before they came back. Lestrade warned them that they were on their way and Sherlock got ready.
They arrested him.
Lestrade warned them just before they came.
John was arrested as well after punching the chief superintendent.
Sherlock managed to distract the police and took John as a 'hostage', while always taking a gun and forcing all the police officers on their knees.
Lestrade looked at him and he saw disappointment and doubt in Sherlock.
He was disappointed in Sherlock, and Sherlock hated it.
Lestrade doubted whether or not he was a fraud. Lestrade wasn't sure, but this didn't help.
So they ran. Became fugitives.
They purposely jumped in front of a bus and got another man, who saved them, shot and killed. After the man told him that Moriarty left the key code in Sherlock's flat.
Moriarty was pretending to be a Richard Brooke who had all the information about Sherlock Holmes.
Where and how did he get the information?
He knew things that only two people could tell him some of the things he knew that nobody else knew.
Evie and Mycroft.
Evie wouldn't have done it. She would have no reason to…unless she was being tortured for the information.
No.
If anything had happened to her Mycroft would have told him.
Mycroft.
Why?
To get information from Moriarty?
He wasn't sure.
Moriarty tried to convince John that he was really Richard Brooke. Sherlock hoped John didn't believe him.
He got away.
Moriarty got away.
As they tried to chase him, realization came to Sherlock.
He knew what was going on.
He was going to die.
He needed Molly.
Sherlock made his way to the hospital, telling John he had something he needed to do.
He caught Molly before she left.
"You're wrong you know." He told her just as she was about to leave the lab, causing her to physically jump in shock. "You do count. You've always counted and I've always trusted you." He told her the truth. He may never show it but he trusts her. "But you were right. I'm not ok." He wasn't. He was going to die and he wanted to see Evie one last time.
But he had a plan.
"Tell me what's wrong?"
"Molly, I think I'm going to die." He admitted careful. Pain shining through his eyes.
"What do you need?"
"If I wasn't everything that you think I am...everything that I think I am...would you still want to help me?"
"What do you need?" Molly repeated, sounding certain.
"You." Sherlock told her honestly.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
John had worked it out.
Mycroft hated himself for it, but he needed the information from Moriarty, and he was only willing if he got information about Sherlock in return.
He kept Evie out of it.
He kept her safe but he betrayed his brother.
He never dreamt that Moriarty would do this.
Sherlock worked out the code. The tapping, it was binary.
He knew what he was going to do and he was ready.
John got a phone call, Mrs Hudson had been shot, but Sherlock knew she was ok. After all he had planned it.
Sherlock let John go, John was angry at Sherlock. He didn't understand why Sherlock didn't want to make sure Mrs Hudson was alive.
Sherlock was ready 'I'm waiting...JM'
Sherlock stood and left the laboratory to climb the stairs, as he climbed he allowed his mind to wander.
He thought back to a time, when he and Evie were 16 years old.
"Hey!" Evie said as she let herself into his house. They had decided to swap keys a couple of years back.
"Hello." Sherlock glanced over at her, he had been reading a book but the moment he saw her face he knew something was wrong so he closed the book and stayed silent waiting for the explosion.
"Mum is being so bloody annoying this morning!" Ah there it is, "Ranting about…God knows what. I stopped listening and told her I was going out."
"Ah, of course. Have you ever thought about actually listening to these rants?"
"They always end up making me angry at her." Sherlock opened his mouth to make another comment but he was quickly shut up by Evie. "It's just so annoying! She does it so much, if it's not about my weight it's about how much time I spend here," She did spend more time at his house than her own, but she rationalized that by saying it was quiet and away from her family at his house. "Or she even rants about my dad, or my brother, or my sister! It's like, why do I give a crap? I don't! And if I try tell her that she just gets annoyed. She probably rants about me to Amy or Scott! I wouldn't be surprised." Evie had been pacing back and forth in front of Sherlock but she finally stopped and sat down heavily besides Sherlock and laid her head against his shoulder, "It's just so...Uhhhh!" Evie flung her hands out trying to explain her emotions. Sherlock understood what she was trying to say.
Instead of replying, Sherlock got an idea, he twitched his shoulder until Evie moved her head and he stood up and held out a hand. Evie frowned at him in confusion but she took his offered hand and he pulled her up. "Close your eyes." She did as she was told without question and Sherlock grabbed the throw blanket that was on the back of the sofa before leading Evie upstairs.
Up onto the roof.
He released her hand but didn't let her open her eyes yet. He laid the blanket on the ground before turning back to Evie. "Open." Evie opened her eyes and looked around.
"Where are we?"
"On the roof? Yes. I finally got someone to clear all the stones away."
"Wow."
Sherlock took her hand again and led her to the blanket before sitting down and pulling her with him. Evie leaned her head against his shoulder and somehow the two friends ended up lying down, Evie's head resting on Sherlock's chest with Sherlock's arm protectively around her shoulders.
They discussed the night's sky, the stars, as they did often during the summer, but it was different seeing them from the roof rather than the back garden.
Some point during all the talking they had managed to fall asleep. Sherlock was the first to wake up. Evie and he had somehow managed to tangle themselves together. Evie's head still resting on his chest, one of her arms was heavy but a comfortable weight on his waist. Her legs had somehow wiggled into his and tangled themselves together. His arm was still around her shoulders but it was starting to feel numb.
There was a different blanket covering them to the one that they were laying on. He sniffed it delicately.
Mycroft.
He had found them asleep and thought to cover them.
Sherlock didn't always get along with his brother but he couldn't help a small smile at that thought.
He tried to flex his numb arm without waking Evie, but he was unsuccessful.
"Sherly?" Evie looked confused until the night before came back to her, "We fell asleep?"
"Apparently so."
Sherlock wished he could wake up again, making the past few years all a dream.
He wished instead of ascending these stairs it was the ones at his old home where he was once more leading Evie upstairs.
But it wasn't. He reached the top and pushed the door open.
Moriarty.
He was playing Stayin' Alive.
"Well, here we are at last." Moriarty was sat at the edge listening to music, "You and me, Sherlock, and our problem. The final problem." He opened his arms wide. "Staying alive! It's so boring, isn't it! It's just..." He moved his hand forward in a steady line, "Staying! All my life I've been searching for distractions," Sherlock knew that feeling well, most of his life Evie was a perfect distraction until he got older and he couldn't find one. Drugs became his distraction and now solving cases. "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. And now I've got to go back playing with the ordinary people, but it turns out your ordinary just like all of them." During Moriarty's speech Sherlock was walking back and forth but now he stopped and looked at Moriarty, "Oh, well." Moriarty stood from his place and joined Sherlock standing face to face. "Did you almost start to wonder if I was real?" No. "Did I nearly get ya?" Moriarty began pacing around Sherlock.
"Richard Brooke." Sherlock spoke for the first time since coming on the rooftop. He found his voice was rough but he didn't care.
"Nobody seemed to get the joke. But you do." Richard Brooke in German was Reichenbach, the case which made his name. Apparently Moriarty just wanted 'some fun'.
"Good, you got that too." Moriarty commented after noticing that Sherlock was tapping the correct binary code.
"Every beat is a one. Every rest is a zero." Sherlock explained to prove that he knew it. "Binary code. That's why the assassins try 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."
"I told all my clients. Last one to Sherlock Holmes is a sissy." Moriarty sounded calm. Too calm. It struck Sherlock's nerves but he didn't show it.
"But now that it's up here," Sherlock motioned towards his head, "I can use it to alter all the records. I can kill Rich Brooke and bring back Jim Moriarty."
"No, no, no." Moriarty turned around and put his head in his heads, "This is too easy. This is too easy. There is no key, DUFUS!" Moriarty yelled right in his face and Sherlock found that he didn't understand. He hated not understanding, "Those digits are meaningless. They're utterly meaningless." Moriarty looked disappointed in him and Sherlock hated the disappointed gaze. He hated himself for hating the gaze. He shouldn't care that Moriarty is disappointed in him. "You really thought at a couple of lines of computer code are gonna crash the world around you; I'm disappointed…I'm disappointed in you, ordinary Sherlock."
He managed to break into all those places because he had 'willing participants'.
People who helped him to do it.
"Now shall we finish the game? One final act. Glad you chose a tall building. Nice way to do it." Moriarty commented as he walked to the side of the building.
"Do it? Do-do what?" Oh, he gets it. "Yes of course. My Suicide." He briefly wondered what Evie would think of him committing suicide.
He joined Moriarty at the side.
He was ready.
"Genius detective proven to be a fraud. I read it in the papers so it must be true. I love newspapers. Fairy tales. And pretty grim ones too."
Sherlock lent over the side; he knew Moriarty wouldn't push him.
It wasn't his way.
"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, pleeeaaassee."
Sherlock suddenly spun around and grabbed Moriarty by the coat and held him by the edge. "You're insane." Sherlock growled.
"You're just getting that now?" Sherlock held him further over the edge and Moriarty made a high pitched noise of protest. "Okay. Let me give you a little extra incentive." Sherlock looked at him curiously. "Your friends will die if you don't."
Evie? Her name hung at his lips but he didn't say it. Not immediately.
"John?"
"Not just John. Everyone."
Sherlock had to be sure, "Mrs Hudson?"
"Everyone."
"Lestrade?" Did he count Lestrade as a friend? Yes. He did.
"Three bullets. Three gunmen. Three victims." Three...Evie was safe. He didn't know about Evie. Mycroft had kept her safe. "There's no stopping them now. Unless my people see you jump."
His 3 friends would die unless he jumped. They would be shot.
Evie would survive.
But the other three would die.
Unless he died.
He would die in disgrace.
He was ready.
He would not allow his friends to die.
Sherlock stepped up onto the edge of the building.
"Your death is the only thing that's gonna call off the killers. I'm certainly not going to do it."
Sherlock took a deep breath, "Could you give me one moment please? One moment of privacy." Moriarty didn't move and Sherlock glanced down at him, "Please?"
Hold on...he wasn't going to do it? So he could do it.
Sherlock started laughing as he figured this out.
"What? What is it? What did I miss?"
"You're not going to do it." Sherlock stepped back onto the roof and joined Moriarty to pace around him, "So the killers can be called off then? There's a re-call code? Or a word, or a number? I don't have to die." Sherlock stopped in front of Moriarty. "If I've got you." He sang lightly before pacing around the man.
"Oh, you think you can make me the stop the order. You think you can make me do that?"
"Yes. So do you."
"Sherlock, you're big brother and all the kings' horses couldn't make me do a thing I didn't want to."
Sherlock stopped in front of Moriarty looking him in the eye, "Yes, but I'm not my brother remember." He was different. "I am you. Prepared to do anything. Prepared to burn." And he was. He was ready to die. "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." Moriarty shook his head, "Nah. You talk big, but nah… you're ordinary. You're ordinary; you're on the side of the Angels."
"Oh, I might be on the side of the Angels, but don't think for one second that I am one of them." He wasn't.
He wasn't ordinary.
He is a freak.
Moriarty's eyes opened wide with realization. He could see it. See that he is not ordinary. "No. You're not." He agreed before smiling widely, "I see. You're not ordinary. No. You're me. You're me!" Moriarty seemed overjoyed about this fact, "Thank you, Sherlock Holmes." Moriarty held out his hand to shake and Sherlock warily took it. "Thank you. Bless you." Moriarty nodded, "As long as I'm alive you can save your friends. You've got a way out." He swallowed, "Well, good luck with that."
He opened his mouth impossibly wide and pulled out a gun before shooting his own brains out. He fell on the ground dead.
Blood pouring out the back of his head.
Sherlock had to die. He had no way out.
Moriarty was dead.
He was dead.
Oh God...Moriarty was dead.
He had to do it.
He walked slowly to the edge and looked down.
It was time.
He saw a taxi pull up and John climb out. He pulled out his phone and rung him.
"Hello?"
"John?" Sherlock's voice was rough, he wondered if anyone heard the gun shot.
"Hey Sherlock, you ok?" John was running towards the building. He couldn't come up.
"Turn around and walk back to where you came from." He ordered. John had to go back, he couldn't...
"No, I'm coming in."
"Just do as I ask." Sherlock begged. John must have heard the desperation in his voice as he did slow his pace and eventually stop. "Please."
"Where?" John started walking back. He got to a good place.
"Stop there."
"Sherlock?" John didn't understand what was happening.
"Okay, look up. I'm on the rooftop." John did as he was told and even from this distance, Sherlock could see the horror on his face. He wondered what Evie would think of him now.
"Oh God."
"I...I can't come down so we'll have to do it like this." He wanted to tell John about Evie but there was no point now. He had to make John believe in him.
"Wha-What's going on?"
"An apology." Sherlock thought of how he could say this, and wondered if John would believe him. Wondered if Evie would believe it when she found out. "It's all true." He explained eventually.
"What?"
"Everything they said about me. I...invented Moriarty." Sherlock turned to see his dead body, gun still in his hand and eyes wide open staring at the sky.
John took a step back and then forward, trying to keep himself on his own feet, "Why are you saying this?"
"I'm a fake." Sherlock choked out.
"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."
"You can shut up Sherlock." John didn't want to believe him and for that Sherlock was mostly glad for, but not at that moment, "Just 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." Sherlock felt pride at John's obvious loyalty to him.
Sherlock laughed lightly, humourlessly, but he could see the distress on Johns face. "I researched you." He told him eventually. "Before we met I discovered everything that I could to impress you. It's a trick. It's just a magic trick."
"No. Stop it now." John started walking forwards, towards the building once more.
"No, stay exactly where you are." John took a few steps back, "Don't move." John's hand was in the air and Sherlock reached out towards him. He had never wanted to feel anyone's touch more than he did at that moment.
"Alright." John stood still.
"Keep your eyes fixed on me. Please, would you do this for me?"
"Do what?" John still didn't understand.
"This phone call...it's...uh, it's my note. That's what people do don't they? Leave a note." Sherlock couldn't help but notice the irony. The first case with John, A study in pink, he was called upon because the 4th murder was different. Because there was a note. John looked as if he was about to fall over. He moved the phone from his ear before replacing it.
"Leave a note when?" John knew but he didn't seem to want to believe.
"Goodbye John."
"No, don't..."
Sherlock stayed on the line for another few seconds before cutting off.
He didn't want to do it, but he had to.
It was time.
He dropped his phone. He calmed his thoughts but decided to let one stay on his mind before jumping.
Evie.