I'm going to try to wrap this story up soon so here it goes.
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock.
"John?" Sherlock warily reached out to touch his stunned friend's shoulder, glaring over at Bailey who stood behind the hunched over doctor as he looked into the palms of his hands. Sherlock quickly withdrew his hand before he even made contact.
With a sigh he turned on his heel and began to walk to the other side of the room, motioning with a wave of his hand for Bailey to follow.
With a glance at the disgruntled John, Bailey did so, a frown etched on his face.
"Why on Earth did you bring him here!" Sherlock's abrupt, whispered shout pounced on Bailey, causing him to step back in surprise. After getting over the initial shock and closing his mouth he retorted in the same tone of voice.
"You told me you wanted to see him!" Bailey said throwing his hands up.
"Yes I did," Sherlock admitted exasperatedly, pinching the bridge of his nose in between his thumb and pointer, "but I thought you would have enough commonsense to ease him into it. He's not like us, Bailey. This is going to take time to get through to him. I didn't think you were that big of an idiot!"
"Well I didn't think you were that dense either, Sherlock!" an obviously high, fake voice rang through the air. The two men looked over to find John looking just as surprised as they were.
All three of their eyes widened and looked around frantically, if it wasn't John who was it?
Suddenly the question, at least to Sherlock and John, was answered when the voice changed to the owner's actual tendency.
"Hello boys!" the voice cheerily called out.
Sherlock's eyes narrowed as he searched the room and finally found him.
Leaning against a blue transport box, Moriarty smiled in the darkness.
"How?" was the word that came from John's mouth, standing up and moving positions so the box he had been sitting on was in between him and the villain.
Sherlock only walked stiffly over to stand diagonally in front of his friend, Bailey following almost like a dog waiting to attack.
A moment of warlike silence fell over the group as the stalemate of glares held.
"Awww, come on aren't you a little surprised Sherly," Moriarty giggled out, taking a few steps forward so he was standing completely into the light, his hands now lazily held in his suit pocket.
"H-how are you alive? We- they found your body?" John stuttered out from the back of the group.
Moriarty's smile turned into a deadpan line as he sharply snapped his neck so he was looking directly into John's eyes.
"Bodies can be faked, boy," he said quickly, jutting his opened, lower jaw out in an intimating manor. Slowly his smile returned as he moved his eyes to rest on Sherlock's, "Just ask your best buddy over here."
John looked towards the back of Sherlock's head, expecting him to respond, but he only stood staring at his archenemy.
How did he pull it off?
"How did you find us?" Bailey asked.
"Please, the adults are talking," Moriarty snapped not taking his eyes off his main prey. "How have you been?"
"What took you so long?" Sherlock asked with a humorless smile, acid lacing his voice as ignored the question.
Moriarty laughed and responded with a tilt of his head as he said, "You know I underestimated you, Sherlock."
Sherlock made no response as he just watched the other man continue to speak, and Moriarty began to pace in front of him.
"I really thought you would have shown your face to your little pet there far sooner," he said pointing towards John, causing Sherlock's eyes to narrow and John's breath to hitch. He only laughed and stopped pacing to look down at the ground with his evil grin on his face.
"I wanted to wait until your boyfriend knew you were alive before I really destroyed you," Moriarty spoke with the excitement of a small child.
"What do you want?" Bailey growled out, his brow furrowing in anger.
Moriarty only looked over at him with a feigned dumbfounded look.
"Really? How stupid are you?" he asked. Suddenly his look turned into that of a mad dog as he yelled, "I just told you, you twit!"
"But how are you here?" John asked, his confidence returning.
"Why don't we ask our little detective here," Moriarty said, grin returning.
Sherlock stared without expression for a few more moments before a small, determined smile appeared on his face and he began to speak as if he had just seen it occurred a few minutes ago.
"The gun was full of blanks," he stated matter-of-factly.
"Really? Then where did the blood come from?" Moriarty asked faking astonishment, causing Bailey and John to look in between the two men as the exchanged words.
"A blood packet hidden on the back of your head. All you had to do was squeeze the tube at the right time and it would have looked as if you had blown your head off. Then your crew only had to place a duplicate, probably some homeless man they killed and altered to look like you, and the world would have believed you were dead."
"Very good," Moriarty said with a nod and pursing his lips together, then shrugging. "I mean I would have been more impressed if you would have gotten it sooner, since it was so obvious, but for you very good."
John didn't miss the way his friend's fists tightened at his sides.
"Did you figure out how I pulled my little trick?" Sherlock asked sarcastically.
Moriarty only rolled his eyes and frowned.
"Come now let's not bore the party with such boring, utterly obvious topics," Moriarty said exasperatedly. Sherlock's eyes even narrowed more.
John didn't like where this was heading as Moriarty's smile returned.
"I have surprise for you…a little game you might say," he said giddily.
Without the others moving Moriarty dashed into the darkness, behind the large box he was hiding behind and dragged out a chair.
John's mouth widened when he realized what he was seeing. Bailey's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he turned to Sherlock, searching for answers, but Sherlock only stood like a solider waiting for an onslaught by the enemy.
Tied to the chair was an unplayable, unconscious pawn which made little sense to anyone who was in the room.
Tied the chair was an unconscious Lestrade.