First of all...

Guys, the reviews on the previous chapter; I cannot even. You were all so unbelievably nice. I was very worried about the last chapter and your comments were really helpful and just beautiful, like insanely beautiful. Thank you so so so much. You made my day, my week... my year! Honestly. You were so so so nice. Thanks to each and every person who has favourited, followed, reviewed and read this story it means a lot.

Writing in italics are text messages

Writing in both bold and italics is Sherlock's Mind Palace/Memory

Standard Disclaimer:

Sherlock's head was spinning; he could barely process what had just happened...

"Sometimes I think... well, sometimes I think I was better off when you were dead."

John's words played in Sherlock's head in a never-ending loop. John Watson, his best friend, John Watson, said he'd been better off when Sherlock was dead...

Sherlock could feel his chest tightening again at the memory. The tears in his eyes threatened to fall but he wouldn't allow that. He hadn't cried, well really cried in a long time and he wasn't starting again tonight.

It wasn't John's words that hurt, albeit it how harsh they may have sounded it was the fact that no matter how much Sherlock thought about it, was that he couldn't find fault in the words. John was better off when he was dead. When Sherlock was gone John had found love, new friends and hadn't once put his life on the line for a case...

Then Sherlock waltzed back in and...

Sherlock recoiled at this thought as his mind flashed back to the bonfire, the bomb in the underground, Mary shooting him...

And not being able to protect John's wife and his child... Putting the life of his godchild in danger...

Breaking his vow...

Sherlock leaned against a pillar outside of the hospital, suddenly unsure if he could keep standing. He rummaged through his pockets and pulled out a cigarette and his lighter. He needed something, anything...

His hands were shaking a lot and it took him a few attempts before he managed to light the cigarette. He lit up and took a long drag for the cigarette before leaning his head back against the pillar and billowing out a long stream of smoke into the air.

Part of him wanted to go back into the hospital, to explain himself to John but... What was there to explain? He'd let his friend down and paid the price. He didn't want to hurt John anymore. He couldn't hurt him anymore. He'd caused enough pain already...

Sherlock took another drag from his cigarette as a text came through on his phone. He groaned, he really didn't want to look at this but had he really a choice?

Tut, tut, Sherl... That wasn't very good, was it? For someone who cares so much about his friends, you've really got a talent for alienated them don't you?

JM

XOX

Sherlock bit his lip, he was angry but... A part of him was done, completely and utterly done. This wasn't a threat from Moriarty against England, it wasn't a threat against London, this was Moriarty trying to break him, trying to tear him down and obliterate him completely.

"I will burn you, I will burn the heart out of you."

And Moriarty was winning... Moriarty was rising like a phoenix, as Sherlock lay burnt to a crisp in the ashes.

Sherlock pulled himself away from the wall; he needed to clear his head. He needed... He needed John, but that wasn't going to happen; not now so he settled for going for a walk. He needed to think this through. He needed to figure out what he was going to do next.

He began to walk the streets of London without any real plan of where exactly he was going. He considered going home but then remembered Mrs Hudson would be there and he really wasn't in the mood to explain what had happened to Mary... He wasn't ready for that… Not yet. The thoughts of seeing Mrs Hudson's face as he explained he'd been unable to protect Mary sent a dagger of pain through his chest. The thought struck him to go to Molly's but then he remembered she was with Tom and that just made him feel worse than he was already feeling so he decided against that also. He couldn't look at them together, not yet… Mycroft popped into his mind but he dismissed that idea almost instantly.

Sherlock bowed his head and turned up his coat collar as it began to rain. He tried to ignore the fact that he had nobody he was willing to turn to... No... Friends… He was alone.

"Alone is what I have, alone protects me."

Sherlock's own words from that dark day replayed in his mind, how naive had he been? Had he really meant those words? Had he ever meant them? That was the same day he'd jumped from Bart's to protect John, Lestrade and Mrs Hudson…

"No. Friends protect people."

Sherlock felt his chest tighten again, he was sweating and it was becoming harder to breathe, his heart was pounding in his chest and he couldn't stop shaking. He was having a panic attack...

Sherlock crept into a dark alley and collapsed down against the wall, burying his head in his hands. Control... Control... Control...

Sherlock could feel himself falling apart. He needed to stop this; he needed to regain control. He couldn't let Janine and Moriarty's people beat him. He just couldn't. He'd survived two years, on his own, fighting Moriarty. He'd survived two years living rough, two years forming alliances with the people he was trying to bring down. Two years of never knowing if he'd see another morning… Two years of Hell... He wasn't going to allow himself to lose now. Not now.

Sherlock took a deep breath and entered his Mind Palace…

The rooms of his Mind Palace were dark, which wasn't surprising. It was always dark when he was afraid. Sherlock tried to mentally turn on lights but it didn't seem to have any effect…

Sherlock sighed, he needed to calm himself down if he was going to get through this. He needed to decide what to do next.

Sherlock entered a room, a family living room and took in his surroundings. Comfy furniture and a fireplace it was the perfect setting to try and calm his mind. He allowed himself to breathe and tried to think what he could do.

He could text Janine and say he was sick of her Games but he dismissed that almost instantly. That was just showing weakness and once he did that he'd be eating out of the palm of her hand. She'd own him.

Sherlock sighed; he honestly wasn't sure what to do, for once. There wasn't even anyone to speak too… He took in his surroundings in his Mind Palace and sighed. Trust his warped mind to calm him down by placing him in the same room Mary had been sho-

Suddenly Sherlock bolted awake. He'd never checked the safe. When Mary had been shot, he'd never checked the safe to see what was inside. He'd been so worried about her; he'd completely forgotten to look inside the safe. Whatever had been left in there for him could still be inside…

Sherlock lifted his head and ran his hands through his hair, he took some deep breaths and tried to calm himself down, he needed to get back to Irene's house. Now. Sherlock pulled himself up onto his feet and brushed himself down, he was sickened that he'd let his emotions overwhelm him but he couldn't help it. Sherlock always considered himself as someone who either never felt anything or felt things intensely. There was never an in-between. He intended to finish this now though, something was telling him whatever he'd find in the safe would be important and that whatever Janine had planned was coming to an end. It was now or never. Do or die.

Sherlock decided he didn't have time to hail a cab and instead ran, he ran down the streets of London towards the house of Irene Adler. He was going to finish this and nobody else was going to get hurt. He'd made a vow to always be there to protect John, Mary and their child and although he messed up, he wasn't going to fail them again. Not now.

Even if it meant he'd have to die to ensure their safety.

Sherlock reached Irene's house quicker than he had expected. He took a moment to catch his breath before looking around carefully. The police were long gone but the signs they'd been here were still present. The crime scene tape covered the perimeter of the house, not as if it'd stop Sherlock.

The detective casually lifted the tape and walked under it before making his way into the house, the door was still open and although it could have been the police, Sherlock doubted it. Janine knew he'd never checked the safe and that he'd come back. She was expecting him.

Sherlock felt his heart rate climb again; he was afraid of what was going to happen. He tried to control his breathing as he entered the living room. Again signs that the police had been here remained and sickeningly so was Mary's blood. A new wave of guilt hit Sherlock again as he seen her blood on the floor but he tried to ignore it and made his way over to the safe.

Sherlock tried to control his breathing as he approached the safe; he didn't have Mary to help control his nerves this time. What was he even becoming? Emotions were getting the better of him completely. Sherlock cursed himself as he reached for the door of the safe.

He stopped.

Last time, the safe had been booby-trapped, he remembered how he had ducked and the gun inside the safe had killed the American man who'd come to get information from Irene. Sherlock bit his lip. It could still be trapped. Sherlock grimaced before taking hold of the door of the safe and ducking down and opening it quickly.

Thankfully, nothing happened.

Sherlock sighed. At least that was one less thing to worry about. He stood up and readjusted his coat, regaining his composure and looked in the safe. It was bare apart from a paper envelope at the very back wall of the safe. Sherlock licked his lip and reached in and pulled out the envelope.

Sherlock sighed through his nose as he examined the envelope. It was the same kind as the one which had contained the cipher the night before, and the writing of which simply printed his name on the envelope's front was the same pen also.

Before Sherlock could think better of it, he tore open the envelope. Sherlock looked inside the envelope and furrowed his brow. It was empty.

"What the?" he breathed as he heard the sound of someone walking in high heeled shoes heading towards him. Janine.

"How is Mary, Sherl?" she sneered. "She wasn't looking too well last I seen her, funny how an assassin isn't keen of a gun being pointed at them, isn't it?"

"Stop it," said Sherlock through gritted teeth.

"Hit a nerve, did I?" asked Janine stalking forward. "You didn't really live up to that vow you made at the wedding now did you?"

Sherlock seen red and stepped forward closing the distance between himself and Janine. "It's me you want to hurt," he growled. "So, stop it. Okay? Leave them be, if it's me you want, take me on now. What good is it targeting my friends?"

Janine scoffed. "Because I know what kind of man you are Sherl, to break you I don't have to touch you. I only have to target your friends."

Sherlock stared Janine down. "Well I think you did pretty well in destroying my friendship with…" Sherlock paused suddenly finding it difficult to say his name. With emm… John, don't you? I'm alone, that's what you wanted. Right? So now what?"

Janine patted Sherlock on the arm. "Are you still doing drugs, Sherl?" she asked innocently.

Sherlock furrowed his brow. "No, why?"

"Because you're very strong, most people would've passed out by now."

At that moment Sherlock felt the sting as the needle broke the skin on his arm, Janine grinned as she pressed the plunger and released the drug into Sherlock's system. She pushed him back and Sherlock fell weakly against the mantelpiece, he struggled to keep himself upright as the drug already powered through his system. Sherlock highly doubted the fact he hadn't eaten or slept in a few days was helping him stay alert…

Sherlock's knees buckled and he fell, unable to hold himself up anymore. He was barely holding onto consciousness, the room was spinning and his head felt fuzzy. His breaths were coming in shaky pants. He tried to pull himself up but found he had no strength in his upper body anymore and fell back again.

"Oh, baby," said Janine running her foot along Sherlock's chest. "Don't get up, there's no need really. People prefer to die comfortably don't they? I wanted you to suffer before I killed you, Sherl. I wanted you to lose everyone you cared about before I finally finished you off. I wanted to break the bromance of the century before ended you Sherl. I wanted to do what my cousin never could, I wanted to burn the heart out of you."

Sherlock could feel himself getting weaker, losing consciousness. He was tired and the drug wasn't helping... He looked up blearily towards Janine and saw her take a handgun from her pocket. Sherlock sighed, so this was it then. He'd lost… As long as they didn't go after John, after his friends… As long as his death meant the end of this then what did it matter? There was a right time and place to die and Sherlock accepted that... If in dying, John would be safe then so be it. John had been better off when he was dead anyway…

He closed his eyes tiredly just before a shot rang out. For the second time that day Sherlock heard the gunshot but didn't feel the bite of the bullet. He managed to open his eyes once more and saw the body of Janine crash to the ground. She'd been shot, the back of her head was entirely gone. Sherlock furrowed his brow in confusion as he fought to hold onto consciousness. He raised his head at the sound of noise from the doorway and saw a curly haired figure standing at the door, he looked familiar but Sherlock's sight had deteriorated too much to make him out.

"Well Mr Holmes," said a voice that Sherlock recognised. "It's time for the game to really begin don't you think?"

Sherlock didn't have the energy to respond; instead he closed his eyes and allowed the darkness to consume him as he finally gave into the drugged induced sleep


Righteo, I'll see you in the next chapter. Reviews would be much appreciated. :)