How did I get here? I don't even remember. I blink my eyes heavily and quickly glance around, noticing the chair I'm tied to. Ah. I know what this is. I smile. To be honest, I have expected this for a long time.

"Sherlock?" I call loudly, in a sing-song voice. Oh yes. It was him. It has to be. So cliché that I'm kind of disappointed. Not that it bothers me too much, but the thought that he'd stoop so low… A door opens across from me, shedding fluorescent light across my face. My clench my eyes shut and draw back from the sudden brightness while I try to adjust. I ease my eyes open, and he's standing there in the doorframe. I smile again. So it has come down to this has it? Interesting. I would have expected more from Sherlock Holmes.

"Jim." His voice is low and husky. Oh. The poor thing. My smile widens. I remember now. Vaguely anyway. It has something to do with John's untimely death. Of course I planned it. Why else would Sherlock be so upset about it? He's really a child deep down. People don't matter. I wonder why he ever thought they did.

"Oh, sorry dear. Is this about John?" I ask happily enjoying his anger. I can feel it rolling off of him in waves. Oh, it feels fantastic that I caused that. And it isn't just anger, it's hurt. That's the best kind of anger.

"You know Jim." He steps into the room. I think he wants me to be scared.

"You really are a very interesting person. But Sherlock, listen, you're doing this wrong. If you want to make this count you have to do it right." He doesn't say anything, but stares me in the face instead, bending down onto his knees so our eyes are level. He studies me for a moment. Oh Sherlock, you poor pathetic boy. You're my masterpiece. It's sad that you don't realize how I've done this. I've turned you. I've turned you into me.

"How, Jim? How can you live with yourself?"

"Done what? Please be specific, you know I do so much in my life it gets kind of redundant."

"You've burned me. Are you happy now?" I chuckle. Predictable. Sherlock, please.

"OF course NOT. I won't be happy until you stab me. I know you have the knife I used. I know you do. I can see it Sherlock. I'm just like you. Only I'm better." This is part of the plan. And now I'm scared. I know I'm going to die. That was always the plan, but…. I never thought that I'd not want to leave. This world is so… empty. I have to act just to make it fun. And now I have to leave. What's after that? I even have to act up until the moment I die. "The question, Sherlock," I lean forward and whisper to his face, "Is this, how can you live with yourself? I manage just fine. Because you see Sherlock, I don't have a heart."

"You have to…"

"Oh no. I assure. I'm not even worried about dying Sherlock. It was part of the plan."

"Wha-?" Oh how quaint.

"I've confused you now haven't I? Let me put it simply… John, well…. John had to die. And so did Mycroft, and Molly, and your mother. And Mrs. Hudson, and Mike, and Detective Inspector Lestrade. And Sally and Anderson. You left me a trail to follow you know. At first it was easy, the less important people were easy to take you, but then things got personal, and I had to make my own moves. I didn't want to Sherlock. I really didn't, but you were just so difficult. You won't come and play. And so I had to bring the game to you. I even gave you a choice Sherlock." I frown, pushing my fear down as I always do. "I was very disappointed to be proved right. You have a heart."

"I.." Sherlock closes his eyes. Oh he's been upset, crying I would say. Quaint.

"Are you cross at me for killing John? For killing everyone else?"

"Obviously." He stands up and closes his eyes, taking a deep breath and pulling the knife from his coat pocket. I knew it.

"Are you going to be happy Sherlock?" I ask. He bends down to face me, he blinks and rams the blade into my stomach. I bite my lip against the pain. I can taste blood. He steadies himself on his knees. I smile and spit blood on his face.

"Welcome Sherlock. Welcome." Sherlock backs up, taking the knife with him and my head drops to my chest, but not before I see his look of surprise. My work is finished.

I sit up in my bed clutching my belly, smile still on my face. My sheets are soaked. And now I know.

"SEBASTIAN!" I scream. I'm scared to die. I can't let it end like that. So undignified. I need to change some plans. Something more spontaneous. Anything less than spectacular is ordinary. Anything less than extraordinary is boring. The door opens and Sebastian enters my room.

"Are you okay?"

"We need to make some changes." He nods and leaves. Yes. Make the changes fast. That's way too much work to burn Sherlock. I can burn him in one blow. Much easier that way. Less dirt, less cleanup. More fun. Ah yes. Not bored now. "Sebastian? What time is it?" I ask as I enter the study.

"Two in the morning." I smile. Perfect.