Sherlock felt the kind of rush he only got when he was close to solving a case (or was close to orgasm but he didn't allow himself to make the comparison). All the information Mycroft had given him was fitting together nicely, the puzzle pieces falling into place. It wouldn't be long now.
Sherlock had watched the CCTV footage repeatedly and then used it to plot out Moriarty's most likely course. He had to have some base of operations; he couldn't do what he did from a car. He'd narrowed the possibilities down based on the other information he was given. Now there was just one place left.
Sherlock gathered all the information and headed downstairs. He wasn't about to make the same mistake twice. If he was going to confront Moriarty, this time he was going with the entire police force with him. This meant he had to change his plan somewhat. There wasn't even a slight possibility that Lestrade would allow Sherlock the kill Moriarty. But he would rather go with backup and make sure Moriarty didn't escape than go by himself and risk the chance he might get away.
When he got to the station, he passed all the insignificant officers and went straight into Lestrade's office. Lestrade barely looked up when Sherlock walked in, busy on the phone. Sherlock impatiently paced in Lestrade's office before getting fed up and reaching over to disconnect the call.
"What the hell!" Lestrade exclaimed in irritation.
"This can't wait." Sherlock said not wanting to get into an argument. They had to act fast if they wanted to catch Moriarty.
"No matter what you may think, this outfit does not run on your schedule." Lestrade said picking up the phone and dialing again.
"I found Moriarty." Sherlock said dropping the file onto Lestrade's desk.
"Oh." Lestrade hung up the phone and looked somewhat embarrassed. "Maybe you should have led with that."
"Battersea Power Station." Sherlock said before Lestrade even had time to open the file.
"Yes, I'm aware of the place." Lestrade said putting his hands on his hips.
"That's where he is, I'm sure of it."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"When am I ever ridiculous?" Sherlock didn't like the accusation.
"More times than you realize." Lestrade retorted. Sherlock opened his mouth to say something nasty but stopped himself. He needed to move things along and bickering with Lestrade would be counterproductive.
"Moriarty is there. I guarantee it."
"He's running his operations from a national landmark?" Lestrade asked giving Sherlock a dubious look. "Did he move there after Big Ben proved unsatisfactory?"
"Don't you see, that's why it's so brilliant? It's been abandoned for years. It's right on the Thames so easy water access."
"For God's sake Sherlock, they're planning on renovating it."
"Yes, which was conveniently pushed back till next year, giving Moriarty time to find a new place. Look, we don't have time for this."
"Yes and what do you expect me to do about it? I'm not going to immobilize my men based on a hunch you have."
"I don't go by hunches, I deal with facts. It doesn't matter, if you won't help, I'll go by myself."
"Yourself?" Lestrade asked looking surprised by this information. "You're not going to call—"
"No." Sherlock cut him off, knowing exactly whom he was going to say. Sherlock hadn't gone to such length to keep John safe just to put him back in the line of fire now. "So are you coming or not?"
"Fine." Lestrade caved. "But you have to work with me on this Sherlock. I don't want to see you off on your own, being reckless."
"Wouldn't dream of it." The corner of Sherlock's mouth twitched up into a smile.
XXXX
Sherlock sat in the back of the cab feeling almost giddy. Jim would be at the power station. Sherlock had no doubt in his mind. The moment he'd seen it in one of the routes he had drawn on his map, he'd known that was where Moriarty had gone. It was brilliant and high profile enough to be Jim's style. No one would ever think of looking for him there but allowed him a chance to show off.
This was the final stretch. Moriarty would be behind bars and everyone could rest easy. Sherlock couldn't help wondering what his life would be like without the consulting criminal. Jim wasn't the only criminal in the world but he was an intriguing one. Sherlock worried about what he would do to fill his time after Moriarty was gone.
John. The thought came to him instantly and filled him. After all, that was what all of this had been about. John, who was always surprising even after all this time. John, who could make him feel things he'd never even thought he was capable of. The man who was always at his side no matter how bad things got. The man he wished was there now.
When he pulled up to the power station, most of the police cars were already there. At least Lestrade had the forethought to keep the lights and sirens off. Sherlock only hoped the arrival of ten police cars had gone unnoticed by Moriarty. He quickly paid the driver and went to join Lestrade.
"Some officers are checking the perimeter to make sure we're not walking into an ambush." Lestrade informed him.
"Good." Sherlock said stepping forward. Lestrade's hand reached forward and jerked him back by his coat. "Remember that thing I said in my office about you not going off on your own?"
"Vaguely." Sherlock waved it off to busy thinking about Moriarty to answer him properly.
Lestrade shook his head. "If you don't behave, I'll make you wait out here and have Anderson keep an eye on you."
"Fine." Sherlock snarled, unhappy with being threatened. "When do we go in?"
"When I know I'm not sending twenty officers in to get killed." Lestrade countered.
Sherlock clenched his jaw. His whole body was practically shaking with anticipation. Still he waited as grueling a task as it was. When the two men returned, they claimed they hadn't seen anything, as far as they could tell there was no one inside. Sherlock and Lestrade exchanged glances and Sherlock headed off for the door, this time Lestrade didn't stop him.
The police broke off into groups, Lestrade staying with Sherlock. As all the officers pulled out their guns, Sherlock felt somewhat vulnerable and exposed without one. He let Lestrade lead, containing his overzealousness, staying behind the man with the gun. He mentally chastised himself for telling John where the gun was He could have used it now.
They walked along the walls, the old structure crumbling a bit when their bodies accidentally grazed it. The air had a faint musty smell mixed with the smell of the water. Sherlock tapped Lestrade on the shoulder to get his attention.
"Footprints. Only a few hours old. At least five different people, probably male going by their shoe size." Sherlock kept his voice hushed.
"Yeah, but where are they now?"
Sherlock frowned knowing what he meant. He hadn't exactly been expecting the place to be crawling with people but he was expecting more than this. The only sound was the other officer's footsteps shuffling as they searched the powerhouse.
Sherlock worried the other police officers had made too much noise and had tipped Moriarty off. He had a strange sort of innate feeling that Moriarty had been there. He was so sure that this was the place, maybe he had just waited too long to act.
They reached the main part of the power station and the whole place was empty. If there had been anyone there, they were long gone now. Unable to stop himself, Sherlock rushed forward and stood in the center of the room. He turned in circles, not sure what he was searching for. A clue, evidence, anything that could prove Moriarty had been there.
There was a worktable and Sherlock's gaze focused on it for a moment. There was a piece of paper flapping in the breeze, a brick positioned on top of it to keep it in place. Sherlock's steps were hesitant as he walked over, checking to make sure there were no little red dots going to appear as he got closer. He put his hand down on the paper to steady it while he read what was written on it.
Maybe next time, Darling!
Sherlock pounded his fist against the table, his blood boiling in anger and frustration. Of course Moriarty wasn't there. As usual, he was two steps ahead. It had been foolish to assume they would just walk in and arrest him. Moriarty would never make it that simple. Still Sherlock had allowed himself to hope. He'd put too much stock into it, thinking this would solve all his problems. Now he was going to have to start all over again
"What is it?" Lestrade asked hurrying over. "What's wrong?"
"We're too late." Sherlock didn't bother to hide the disappointment, the defeat, in his voice. "He's gone."
Sherlock handed over the not Jim had left to Lestrade and turned away from him. Lestrade read it and then radioed the rest of the officers to pack it in. Sherlock closed his eyes, knowing this was it. Another round had gone to Moriarty. He felt Lestrade's hand on his shoulder. "Sorry Sherlock."
'It's of no consequence, we know he was here. It is more of a lead than we've had in months." Sherlock made his voice icy and indifferent. He didn't need anyone's pity, people feeling sorry for him because once again he'd lost.
Lestrade dropped his hand and headed out to meet up with the other officers. Sherlock was about to join them when the pink phone dinged. He seriously considered smashing the phone into a million pieces like he had Moriarty's cameras. He didn't though because now the phone was his only real like to Moriarty.
He grabbed the phone from his pocket and prepared himself for more of Moriarty's gloating.
Leaving so soon?
Sherlock stared at the message and wondered what Moriarty meant by it. His hand's hovered over the keys, wondering what to write back. Why would he stay if Jim wasn't there? Had Jim left him something else to find? Something he had missed? Or was Jim telling him that he was in fact there and just hiding?
Sherlock spun around, looking for where the consulting criminal could be. It dawned on him and he scolded himself for not thinking of it straight away. There was only one place the police hadn't looked.
As he stepped outside, the cold air rushed to meet him. The water made the air ten degrees colder, forcing Sherlock to pull his coat tighter around him. Approaching, he saw three figures outlined by the backdrop of the Thames. He recognized one of the figures as the ape that had used his face as a punching bag. The small figure was unmistakably Moriarty.
The third person Sherlock couldn't identify until he got closer. He would have recognized him sooner except he never expected to see him there. "John." Sherlock whispered, his body filling with dread. It was only when he was on the dock that the scene before him became clear.
John's hands were behind his back, most likely in handcuffs. Sebastian had a gun on John that he turned on Sherlock the moment he drew near. Jim was standing between them, a grin already plastered on his face.
"That's quite close enough." Jim said and Sherlock stopped walking forward. "I already apologized to John for the handcuffs but then again, you seem to like him in handcuffs."
"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked John, ignoring Moriarty's obvious attempt to get him flustered.
"Yes." John nodded. His jaw was clenched, he was trying to look brave but the terror in his eyes showed.
"I thought Johnny should be present for this, get the old gang back together, as it were."
"Let him go." Sherlock growled in a threatening manner, though he had nothing to back it up with.
"Yeah well, I would but I can't. See you've forced my hand Sherlock. You pushed me to this."
"He's not a part of this anymore." Sherlock yelled, clenching his fists
"Oh come on, you can do better than that." Jim teased, making a clicking noise with his tongue. "You think I would fall for your silly charade? I'm not as thick as John over there."
"What?" John asked clearly confused by what he had just heard. He quickly closed his mouth, realizing this was not the time to go into it.
"Aww, that's adorable." Jim clapped his hands together with fake saccharine. "You thought it was real? You honestly believed he went from shagging your brains out to loathing you in the course of one day? You never realized his actions were based solely on the threats I'd made against you?"
"What threats?" John blurted out
"Oh." Jim said, his eyes and grin widening "So Sherlock didn't tell you about the messages we exchanged?"
"No." John said, his eyes on Sherlock. Sherlock had to lower his gaze; unable to stand the way John was looking at him. Still, he could feel the weight of John's stare, waiting for an explanation.
"I was trying to keep you safe." It was all Sherlock could say in reply.
"Well you did a hell of a job of it." John answered sarcastically.
"It's not my fault you managed to get yourself capture, yet again." Sherlock snapped back.
"It's not like I let myself get captured." John said indignantly. "Just a hazard of knowing you."
"Alright, the touching moment of this program is over. Time to get to the killing." Moriarty said interrupting their argument.
Sherlock looked around, did a quick calculation in his head and made a split decision. He lunged forward, tackling Sebastian just as he pulled the trigger. They fell backwards, Sebastian's head smacking against a block of concrete. A pool of blood was already forming around his head. Sherlock grabbed the gun and turned it on Moriarty.
Except Moriarty had moved, positioning himself behind John, using him as a human shield. Sherlock tried to get a good shot but the tiny man was practically invisible behind John. When he did come into view, it was to put a gun against John's temple.
"I thought you didn't like to get your hands dirty." Sherlock recalled Moriarty's earlier words.
"I don't, doesn't mean I won't though."
"Just let John go, this is between you and me." He had no idea if he would survive this but he could at least try to keep John safe.
"Of course it isn't." Jim yelled, pressing the gun harder against John's skin. "Don't you see how much he's weakened you? He's made you pathetic, full of feelings."
"What bothers you more, finding out I'm capable of having emotions or learning that I'm less like you than you thought?"
"Your feelings have made you half the man you were." Moriarty spat. "I want your head in the game, not lusting after John like some schoolboy."
"You just want my full attention." Sherlock scoffed. "A petulant little child who can't bare to have something else occupying my time."
"Bit of the pot calling the kettle black, don't you think?"
"Perhaps, but when I want attention, I don't kill people."
"Not yet, but give me time." Moriarty's face curled back into a smile.
"You don't have time." Sherlock said, a smile spreading on his own face with the knowledge Moriarty didn't possess. "The thing is, I've got Lestrade on speed dial. All I had to do was reach into my pocket and press one little button. He heard everything; he knows you're here. He will have turned all those cop cars around and undoubtedly they will be here momentarily."
"Then what?" Moriarty asked, his eyes flashing with something sinister. "What do you think will happen if I get put in prison? I have endless accomplices. You think I can't do what I do from prison? If anything it will make it easier, easier to get to you. And I would get to you Sherlock. You'd never be safe. This dance of ours will never end as long as we're both alive. The music will keep playing and we'll both keep spinning around each other. It'll never end Sherlock, never."
Sherlock ignored Moriarty and focused his attention on John to share the moment of triumph. It was short lived as John fell to his knees. Moriarty had hit him over the head with the butt of his gun, knocking John out. Jim kicked John's limp body off the dock and into the Thames.
"Make your choice Sherlock. You can either save John or keep me from escaping. You can't do both."
"You forgot the third option." Sherlock said and without hesitation his finger squeezed the trigger. The bullet went straight through Moriarty's skull and the consulting criminal crumpled to the ground.
Sherlock quickly stripped off his coat and scarf before diving into the water where John had fallen in. The water was murky and opening his eyes while submerged was awkward but he forced himself to do so anyway. He swam as deep as he could in an attempt to find any sign of John, knowing he couldn't have gone far. He stayed under until his lungs were burning for more air. He broke the surface and inhaled deeply. He treaded water, turning in circles to find John.
His suit was soaked and slowing him down and the water was freezing. The surge of adrenaline was helping as he franticly searched. He descended under the water again, keeping his eyes open despite the pain. It was dark, making his current task almost impossible and yet he couldn't give up.
Not him. Sherlock thought as he continued his search in vain. He can't be allowed to die. Not John. Anyone but John.
Then by some miracle, he saw the faint outline of a figure in the distance. He swam towards it and felt such relief when it was John. He grabbed him and swam quickly and awkwardly towards the shore. When he could stand, he slipped his hands under John's arms and carried him. He laid him on the sand and put his head against his heart. It was beating faintly but he wasn't breathing.
Sherlock lowered his lips to John's and began performing CPR. A strange, overwhelming feeling was spreading as he continued the motions over and over. He felt almost hysterical as he tried desperately to revive John. He was well aware that he was crying, unable to stop. The moment John coughed, the water leaving his lungs, Sherlock wrapped his arms around him and held him close, rocking slightly.
He couldn't help the feeling that there was something else wrong. He pulled away from John and looked him over. John was bleeding from the leg. The bullet Sebastian had fired must have hit John after all. Sherlock clutched John to him again. There were sirens in the background that Sherlock hadn't bothered to notice. He began yelling for help, hoping Lestrade or someone would hear him.