Just warning all of you that there will be a small cliff-hanger at the end of this chapter :)
Enjoy!
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When Mycroft got back to his office he was fuming. Memories of trying to stop Irene Adler from winning surfaced, and Mycroft grimaced as he sat down in his chair.
Two years.
For two years she had been alive and thriving, living in the world undetected.
He remembered all the tedious but necessary steps he had taken in his investigation to make sure she really had been beheaded, and his uncomfortableness at having to (however indirectly) break the news to Sherlock. And all the while his little brother had known that she was actually alive, having ensured her safety.
And now she was back, a domineering presence in Sherlock's life. Sherlock, it seemed, was right back under her spell where she wanted him.
With Irene being back, it raised the question of Moriarty. She had worked for him before, what if she was doing it again?
Mycroft knew that Moriarty was after Sherlock, and that it was only a matter of time before he endangered those close to him. Irene, it seemed, was currently very central to the goings on in John and Sherlock's life, and served the purpose of the surveillance camera. She could be passing all sorts of information along to Moriarty.
Mycroft called Anthea to his office. A couple of years ago, Sherlock and he had had a row about security cameras at 221B and Mycroft had finally decided to take all of the surveillance systems away. Sherlock was right, he was an adult now, and with the help of John he could look after himself. He was still reckless of course, but Mycroft was relying on the army doctor and on Mrs Hudson to keep him in line.
But now, with the threats Moriarty was making, it seemed best to activate surveillance again. Especially now that Irene Adler was also somehow involved.
The cameras and sound systems were already installed, but Mycroft had not activated them yet. He now wondered whether or not he had made a mistake.
It was too late for that now though. The second Anthea appeared, he told her to activate all surveillance systems. She looked surprised, but did not object.
That was all Mycroft could do for now. He leant back in his chair and sighed.
It took him some time to understand that he was rather worried for his little brother. They had grown a little closer after everything that had happened with Ms Adler, because Mycroft felt responsible for the mess she had caused and for pushing Sherlock into her path. He had seen that Sherlock had not recovered well from the jumbo jet fiasco – the signs of a bitter, hurt and manipulated man, seemingly defeated even after he had won, had all been present in Sherlock.
And who knew what Irene Adler was up to this time. Sherlock might have saved her life, but knowing her demanding personality, she would probably see it as repayment for the fact that he had sold her out earlier. In her mind then, she had no debt to repay, and there was nothing to stop her from manipulating Sherlock again.
He leaned back in his chair, wondering what the best course of action now would be. He was very worried about Irene's part in all of this. He knew as well as Sherlock that an encounter with Moriarty was imminent; and that this would be the final act of their deadly game.
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Sherlock groaned as his phone beeped again. He picked it up anyways, and read another one of Moriarty's childish messages. The consulting criminal wanted him to play.
It had been almost two hours since Irene had left. Nero and Mrs Hudson had gotten back an hour ago. Mrs Hudson had decided to have a short rest, while Sherlock took Nero, fed him and burped him, and eventually carried him around the flat until he fell asleep. However, the little boy had had plenty of sleep in the morning and had woken up an hour later, whimpering. Sherlock had read to him until Mrs Hudson came up and asked to take him. She very much adored the little boy.
John had gone out to do some shopping, and right now, Sherlock was alone. Of course, Nero and Mrs Hudson were downstairs, and he could hear their laughter, but he still felt isolated.
He hoped John would be able to take Nero out of the country the next morning, and if that wasn't possible, then he could at least take him somewhere to the country, until Sherlock had a clearer idea of what Moriarty was planning. Mrs Hudson could go too, if she wished, seeing John had little experience with children.
Sherlock sat down in his chair, and ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. He didn't know what to do.
It unnerved him that Irene still hadn't called. She had sent him a text, telling him she had a flight and that she was fine, but other than that she mentioned nothing. It surprised him a little that she wasn't already enquiring about Nero, even after being apart from him for only a few hours. Possibly she didn't want to seem too attached, but Sherlock knew that she loved her son very dearly, and thought it was slightly strange that she hadn't asked about him.
He wanted Irene to call though, because he didn't trust a text. He knew that Moriarty didn't know about Irene, but with the way Moriarty was acting, Sherlock was worried.
He wanted to be distracted, he wanted to play, but Sherlock knew that this would be the final game. Moriarty had already let him slip through his hands once; he wasn't going to let it happen again.
Sherlock had promised Irene that he would look after Nero, and that he wouldn't put himself into danger. He wanted very badly to be able to keep that promise.
But Moriarty wanted him, and only him; he didn't know about Nero or Irene yet, which meant that they were safe, for now. But if Moriarty found out, which was more than likely then he would definitely use them against him. And Sherlock knew that that would be his breaking point. These were the two people who he would do absolutely anything for, who he would protect with his life.
Protecting them with his life currently seemed to be his only option.
There was no knowing what Moriarty would do to Irene and Nero. He would be furious to know that Irene was alive and that he had been tricked. He didn't forget about people who left his service. Irene has seemingly died, which was the only excuse. But if he discovered that she was alive and well, thriving even…
This meant that the best course of action would be to find Moriarty himself and finish what the two of them had started.
It would partially break his promise to Irene, but he had also said that he would keep Nero safe, and this was the only way. The possibility that he would die in the process was there, but he could bring down Moriarty too.
He sighed to himself again. That decision would have been so easy a few years ago, when he hadn't let sentiment get the better of him. Before he had let people like Mrs Hudson, John, Lestrade and Irene into his life. Hell, even Mycroft was someone important to Sherlock now.
But what other option was there?
Sherlock got up and put on his coat. He needed to get outside and just think. There was a time when he used to be able to do that in the flat, but now he could see Nero's toys scattered over the floor, John's laptop on the table, and could hear Mrs Hudson's laughter. The flat was too filled with memories and it wasn't a place Sherlock could think clearly.
He left a note for John, telling him that he had gone out for a walk, and went into the hallway. The door to 221A was open and he could see Mrs Hudson and Nero sitting together on the floor. Mrs Hudson was reading a picture book to the little boy, while he giggled and looked at the pictures with interest.
Sherlock observed his son. It was in these moments that he was both glad that he had an emotional bond with him, and furious that he had let it be so. Without sentiment, life was so much easier.
But that couldn't be changed now.
He sighed, and quietly walked away, out the front door and into the cool air.
He tightened his coat around him and felt his gun nudge his hip slightly. He had brought it with him, simply as a form of defence, though he doubted a situation like that would arise. Nevertheless, he felt better when he had his gun with him.
He walked the streets, thinking about his current situation, and not paying a lot of attention to where he was going. He knew London better than any other person, so he couldn't get lost.
He was so immersed in his thoughts that he didn't realise the way he was going until he was almost there.
The pool.
The pool where John had appeared all those years ago, strapped to a bomb, courtesy of Moriarty. He hadn't wanted to come here intentionally, but now that he was here he observed the building in thoughtful silence.
He realised that he didn't want to do this.
Of course Moriarty needed to be stopped, but Sherlock didn't want to stop him. Not because of the selfish reason that he wanted the cases that Moriarty provided as a distraction, but because he liked the life he led. Irene, John, Nero, Mrs Hudson – these were people who had a big place in his heart. Others too: Lestrade, Molly, Mycroft. They were all people that mattered, people that Sherlock didn't want to leave behind.
Moriarty needed to be stopped, but Sherlock wished he didn't have to be the one to do it.
There had to be another way.
With this thought in mind, Sherlock decided to go back to Baker Street. It was nearing Nero's bedtime, and Nero would need a parent there, seeing Irene was gone.
Just as he was about to turn around, two things happened at once.
His phone vibrated, signalling a new text.
A red dot appeared out of nowhere, and suddenly trained itself onto Sherlock's chest.
Sherlock closed his eyes. He pulled out his phone.
The pool. Come and play. I have a very special surprise for you.
Jim xxx
Moriarty.
Sherlock looked down again; the laser dot was still trained on him. Suddenly it disappeared.
Sherlock groaned slightly. He understood the message. Moriarty wanted him to come into the pool, where they could have their final game, and finish everything off. The sniper was there to make sure that Sherlock came, but he was letting him go on his own accord.
Sherlock looked around, but knew there was no way out. If he went away, the sniper would probably fire, and then he would have achieved absolutely nothing. But if he went in, he could still take down Moriarty.
He took a deep breath and entered, one hand in his pocket, holding his gun.
The area was as he remembered it. Dark, slightly eerie and ghostly, with the water lapping gently and the edges of the pool. The main lights were on, but the room was empty. Moriarty had decided not to make an appearance yet then.
Sherlock swallowed. "I'm here" he said loudly, blocking out all images of Irene and Nero from his head. Those would distract him, and he needed to think clearly and objectively. "I thought you would have more of a welcoming party".
He heard Moriarty's laugh come somewhere from the shadows, and turned towards the sound, squinting.
"Don't worry Sherlock" he heard him say. "I've brought along someone very special to see you".
Sherlock frowned, his thoughts flying immediately to John. Clearly, Moriarty wanted to recreate the pool scene from two years ago, and Sherlock was suddenly scared that John would appear in front of him again, strapped to a bomb and completely helpless.
"I'm delighted" Sherlock responded dryly, desperately hoping that John was alright. He looked around carefully, looking for any signs or clues Moriarty might have directed at him, but found none.
"So what do you think of my clever idea?" Moriarty said suddenly, his voice coming from a different place than before. Sherlock turned around, trying to place his position.
"Should I be surprised?" he asked coldly and slightly sarcastically, focusing on the situation. Nero and Irene were forgotten. This was only about him and Moriarty.
Moriarty laughed. "I do hate to repeat myself" he admitted. "But this opportunity was just to fuuun to resist. Especially since I finally found a way to break you."
Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"
"Who would ever have thought that the detective would fall in loooove" Moriarty teased, and Sherlock suddenly stiffened. No…
"I have to admit, I am rather disappointed Sherlock" Moriarty continued. "I thought you were above that. Above that sort of manipulation".
Sherlock frowned. All attempts at blocking out Irene had been for nothing then, because now she was the only thing on his mind. He was terrified that Moriarty had found her.
But Moriarty had said manipulation – what was he suggesting by that?
"To think that one woman could wind you around her little finger so easily, could make you do everything she asked without any questions, and pass it all on to me…when did you get so frightfully oblivious?"
Sherlock stared at where Moriarty's voice was coming from, his whole body stiff. Was Moriarty suggesting that Irene had been manipulating him the whole time? No, that wasn't possible.
'She's done this before' a little voice in the back of his head said. Sherlock tried to block it out.
"Are you going to talk to me from the shadows all day?" he called out instead, trying to keep his voice level. Moriarty laughed.
"I suppose we should finally make an appearance then" he said, and Sherlock's eyes grew wide. We?
Moriarty stepped out from the shadows, looking as he usually did. Black suit, expensive tie, Italian shoes, hair combed back and a leering grin on his face. But none of that interested Sherlock. He was too busy staring at the woman next to him.
Standing there in a red backless dress, blue eyes sharp and cold, with a leering and mocking expression on her face, leaning onto Moriarty's arm with her hair combed back in the style it had been when he had first met her, was Irene Adler.
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Oh dear. Poor Sherlock.
I hope you enjoyed!
Once again, please, please do review. I'm not going to blackmail you (though I suppose I can head in that direction by hinting that there will definitely be more cliff-hangers) but I really would love to hear from you. I know that there are a lot of people that read this story judging by the alerts I get, and I would love to hear your opinions in this.
Thanks!
Laura x
