Magnussen was waiting outside, where it was now becoming dark. As John joined him, Magnussen commented lightly: "They're taking their time, aren't they? Might be Victoire's efforts to slow them down; she'll have known exactly how this venture would turn out. She understands the psychopath mind too much."
"I still don't understand." John said flatly, and Magnussen commented dryly: "And there's the back of the T-shirt."
"You just know things. How does that work?" John asked in disbelief as he stared at Magnussen in horror.
Sherlock had just joined them outside, finished with his thinking, and Magnussen said derisively: "I just love your little soldier face."
John looked at him in a mix of incredulity and indignation, particularly when Magnussen added: "I'd like to punch it. Bring it over here a minute."
John looked at Sherlock skeptically, and Sherlock gave a tiny nod as Magnussen mocked: "Come on. For Mary. Bring me your face."
John stared at Magnussen in disbelief, before clearing his throat uncomfortably and walking over.
"Lean forward a bit and stick your face out." Magnussen ordered in his soft voice.
John cleared his throat, staring at Magnussen defiantly, but Magnussen asked with a raised brow: "Please?"
John's eyes had narrowed but he did as Magnussen said, staring right into the man's eyes. Magnussen also leaned forward slightly and he asked: "Now, can I flick it?"
John shook his head, more out of incredulity than anything else, and Sherlock's fist curled as he watched.
"Can I flick your face?" Magnussen repeated. John just stood, silently giving permission, and Magnussen slowly lifted his hand. He flicked John's cheek, making John twitch, but other than that John stood defiantly as Magnussen continued.
"I just love doing this." Magnussen murmured with a chuckle. "I could do it all day."
He chuckled as he looked over at Sherlock, who was standing by the door impassively. John's eyes had narrowed in anger, and Magnussen turned back to the shorter man.
"It works like this, John." Magnussen explained. "I know who Mary hurt and killed."
He flicked John's face again.
"I know where to find people who hate her."
Magnussen flicked John again, twice.
"I know where they live; I know their phone numbers."
He flicked John again, and then again, before he taunted: "All in my Mind Palace – all of it. I could phone them right now, and tear your whole life down."
John's eyes were filled with anger and hate as he stared at Magnussen, but the man wasn't done.
"I could do that to Mary, your unborn child… and Marie."
Sherlock's jaw clenched as John's eyes became flinty. Magnussen smiled and he went on: "And I will ... unless you let me flick your face."
He flicked John's face again, and again. John stood his ground, although he was starting to flinch more as the pain started to become unbearable. Sherlock's eyes had gone cold as he watched, while Magnussen mocked: "This is what I do to people. This is what I do to whole countries ... just because I know."
He finally leant back, spreading his arms at the world, but then he suddenly leant back down as he asked with a mocking smile: "Can I do your eye now?"
He flicked John's eye without waiting, making John close it with a small flinch. Magnussen taunted: "See if you can keep it open, hmm?"
He flicked John's eye again, and as John continued to flinch his eye shut, Magnussen mocked, smiling manically: "Come on. For Mary. Keep it open."
"Sherlock?" John bit out at last, but Sherlock murmured back: "Let him. I'm sorry. Just ... let him."
His voice had wavered slightly, which worried John more. Magnussen grinned and he jeered: "Come on. Eye open."
He flicked John's eye again, and again, as each time John flinched it shut. Magnussen began to laugh, almost like a lunatic as he mocked: "It's difficult, isn't it?"
John glared as Magnussen straightened up and taunted: "Janine managed it once. She makes the funniest noises." He chuckled.
"Although apparently Victoire is better; apparently she's quite the screamer." He looked at Sherlock pointedly, making the other man's eyes narrow in anger.
But they were interrupted as they heard a helicopter flying towards them. All three men glanced up as they watched a helicopter fly around the house, moving to hover before the front door. John glanced around as he saw several squads of Secret Service agents running towards the house, guns raised towards them as the helicopter shot a search light down at them.
Mycroft's voice called over the helicopter loud speakers: "Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. Stand away from that man."
"Here we go, Mr Holmes!" Magnussen called above the whirring helicopter blades, as he gestured for Sherlock to step forward.
"To clarify," Sherlock shouted back as he walked over, "Appledore's vaults only exist in your mind, nowhere else, just there."
"They're not real." Magnussen confirmed, not even looking over as he stared triumphantly at Mycroft in the helicopter cab. "They never have been."
Sherlock bowed his head slightly, glancing down at John, as Mycroft called again sharply: "Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. Step away."
"It's fine!" Magnussen shouted back, stepping towards the helicopter as he taunted Mycroft: "They're harmless!"
"Sherlock, what do we do?" John demanded anxiously, and Magnussen replied for the curly-haired detective: "Nothing! There's nothing to be done!"
He turned to John as he pointed out contemptuously: "Oh, I'm not a villain. I have no evil plan. I'm a businessman, acquiring assets. You happen to be one of them!"
He nodded at John before he turned to Sherlock and finished scathingly: "Sorry. No chance for you to be a hero this time, Mr Holmes."
"Sherlock Holmes and John Watson," Mycroft demanded, "stand away from that man. Do it now."
Magnussen turned back to the helicopter with a triumphant smile, and Sherlock shouted at last: "Oh, do your research."
He reached into John's pocket, and before John could react he walked forward towards Magnussen, saying: "I'm not a hero."
Magnussen smiled indulgently, but it turned into a frown as Sherlock finished: "I'm a high-functioning sociopath. Merry Christmas!"
With that, he lifted the gun he'd pulled from John's pocket and with his teeth grit in determination, he fired a bullet at Magnussen's head. The shot rang through the entire estate, and Sherlock dropped the gun as soon as Magnussen's body fell dead to the ground.
He turned to face the helicopter, raising his hands in surrender as he shouted at John: "Get away from me, John! Stay well back!"
"Christ, Sherlock!" John shouted, aghast as he stepped a little back, lifting his own hands in surrender as his eyes filled with tears of despair and he stared at Magnussen's prone body on the ground.
"Stand fire!" Mycroft shouted into his mic. "Do not fire on Sherlock Holmes! Do not fire!"
"Oh, Christ, Sherlock." John gasped as several Secret Service agents trained their guns on Sherlock, the red sniper lasers dancing all over Sherlock's body.
Sherlock turned slightly to his friend, and as John stared at him, gasping, Sherlock gave a small smile.
"Give my love to Mary." He said firmly, and John almost lowered his hands in anguish.
Sherlock paused, and seemed on the brink of saying something else, before he finished: "Tell her she's safe now."
John's face paled, and he cried: "What about-?"
But Sherlock turned back to the front, and John saw the look on Sherlock's face as he did. John's heart broke at the utter desolation on the detective's face, and all he could do was whisper: "Oh, Christ."
Inside the helicopter, Mycroft also caught the look on Sherlock's face as Sherlock sank to his knees, allowing the Secret Service agents to come up and pin him down. Mycroft removed his headset, staring in horror and he whispered brokenly as he stared down at his little brother: "Oh, Sherlock. What have you done?"
In his mind's eye, Mycroft saw the little boy Sherlock, crying silently as he held his hands up, facing the repercussions for his actions.
The next day
"You have ten minutes."
"She has fifteen." Mycroft's voice corrected without inflection.
Sherlock looked up as the door to his holding cell opened and Marie stepped inside. His heart clenched as he took in her state. She had clearly been crying, and heavily so by her red-rimmed eyes and the tear tracks on her face. She'd also clearly made no effort to clean herself up for the visit, letting Sherlock know she was also ticked off with him.
"I will come back to pick you up." Mycroft told Marie, and she nodded without looking back.
Mycroft levelled one look over Marie's shoulder at Sherlock before he closed the door, leaving the pair inside. Sherlock silently held out his arms and Marie stepped into them without a sound.
"I missed you." He whispered, and she almost snapped, although her voice cracked: "Then you shouldn't have done it."
Sherlock simply bowed his head, softly kissing the top of her head. She whispered, her voice trembling: "Sherlock, the verdict-"
"I know." He sighed, and she clutched him.
He could feel the baby bump and he swallowed before he murmured softly, pressing his mouth against the top of her head: "Do you remember when I proposed to you?"
"Of course." She whispered, her voice thick with tears.
Marie would never forget the night Sherlock had explained his plan to get to Magnussen, on the balcony outside of John's wedding venue. She'd unhappily agreed with his plan, before he'd suggested they leave early and spend their last night together in their flat.
She'd naturally agreed, but it turned out he'd had a surprise planned for her. When they'd returned to the safety of their flat, Sherlock had gently kissed her before getting on his knee before her. To say Marie had been surprised was probably the understatement of her life. Sherlock didn't have a ring, he couldn't, and she couldn't wear it anyway with his plan. But the fact that he'd asked had been enough.
"I told you I loved you, and I would always protect you." Sherlock murmured, and Marie chuckled slightly.
"Yeah, you broke your word to John and Mary about two hours after you made your promise to them. Never make another vow my arse." She muttered.
"It was worth it to make the most important vow to the most important woman in the world." Sherlock murmured.
Marie smiled slightly, and then she sighed. She leant her head against Sherlock's chest, breathing in deeply.
"You know I would go with you." Marie whispered at last and Sherlock shook his head.
"No, I couldn't bear it if you were to be harmed, especially if it was because of me." He said softly.
She gave a watery chuckle as she countered: "Yes, that's what got you in this mess in the first place."
They stayed in their embrace and Marie whispered brokenly: "I'm so sorry, Sherlock. If I'd just taken him down earlier-"
Sherlock cut her off quickly: "No, Marie. There's nothing for you to be sorry for."
She nodded as the tears began to slide down her cheeks. Sherlock felt the wetness on his shirt and the way her body trembled, and he pulled back, brushing the tears off her cheeks.
He leaned in, kissing her gently before bending to kneel before her and placing a gentle kiss on her stomach. He swallowed hard as he realized he would never be able to see his child born. He would never hold his child in his arms, never watch it grow up… never see Marie kiss it goodnight with him at her side.
Marie sobbed, clearly thinking the same thing and Sherlock stood, pulling her into his arms once more, letting her cry into his chest as tears of his own welled. He allowed one to slip out as he pressed a kiss to the top of her head. They stayed like that for the remainder of their time together, before Mycroft returned to escort Marie out.
When the door opened to let them know their time was up, Sherlock gave one last tight hug before he let go. Marie, however, refused to let him go that easily, leaning up to kiss him. Sherlock answered softly, both breaking off quickly as Mycroft cleared his throat.
"I love you." Marie whispered in his ear and Sherlock swallowed.
"As I love you." He answered quietly.
Marie turned sad green eyes on him, continuing to meet his eyes even as she slowly made her way out of the cell. Mycroft silently led her away, and both she and Sherlock's hearts shattered as the guard closed the door on Sherlock, separating the couple once more.
A few days later
John, Mary, and Marie drove in silence to the airport, the blonde couple watching the brunette woman worriedly. She was just staring out the window absently, not speaking or reacting in any way as they pulled up before the small charter plane.
John swallowed as he saw Sherlock standing by the foot of steps leading up to the plane, waiting patiently while Mycroft stood beside him. Taking a deep breath, John opened the door, turning to help Mary out as Marie got out on the other side.
Sherlock smiled a little as Mary gave Sherlock a sad smile, and as the blonde woman walked over to hug him, Sherlock murmured: "You will look after him for me, won't you?"
"Oh." Mary sighed and she kissed his cheek before hugging him.
"Don't worry." Mary promised as she held on tight. "I'll keep him in trouble. Him and Marie."
Sherlock smiled a little and as Mary let go, he murmured: "That's my girl."
"Don't let Marie hear you say that." Mary teased half-heartedly. Her smile was wavering just slightly, and Mary began: "Sherlock, I-"
"No, it was my own fault." Sherlock cut off her apology.
Mary smiled sadly once more, and Sherlock nodded at John over Mary's shoulder. Mary took the hint and after giving him one more apologetic pat, she walked back towards John. The man was still standing by the car door, watching them.
Sherlock's eyes flickered over to Marie, standing even further back as she too remained by her door beside the car, before he glanced back at John. John was standing determinedly waiting, and as Mary rubbed John's arm, Sherlock turned to Mycroft.
"Since this is likely to be the last conversation I'll have with John Watson," he asked his brother pointedly, "would you mind if we took a moment?"
Mycroft almost rolled his eyes, but simply nodded. He jerked his head at the guard beside Sherlock, and they left, heading off to give the other two men some privacy. Mary, also taking the hint, walked further away, joining Marie as they watched their husbands from a distance.
John finally stepped forward, and he commented as he strode up to Sherlock: "So, here we are."
"William Sherlock Scott Holmes." Sherlock said rather abruptly.
"Sorry?" John asked in surprise and confusion.
Sherlock explained quickly: "That's the whole of it – if you're looking for baby names. Although," he added hastily, "I think Scott is going to be taken if, if it comes down to that."
He faltered slightly. John's eyes flashed with pain but he just snorted, before he told Sherlock with forced levity: "Hm, well William can be taken as well. We've had a scan. We're pretty sure it's a girl."
"Oh. Okay." Sherlock smiled, and John grinned back. Both their smiles were strained however, and it dropped pretty quickly.
The pair shifted uncomfortably, and John admitted after a while: "Yeah. Actually, I can't think of a single thing to say."
"No, neither can I." Sherlock admitted.
They stood in silence for another moment, and John sighed.
"The game is over." He said at last, his brows working furiously as he tried to keep his emotions in check.
Sherlock corrected with a small sigh: "The game is never over, John ... but there may be some new players now."
His blue eyes flickered over to Marie once more. John saw the look and his face became grim, but before he could say anything, Sherlock added: "It's okay. 'The East Wind takes us all in the end'."
"What's that?" John asked in confusion.
Sherlock shrugged a little as he explained: "It's a story my brother told me when we were kids. 'The East Wind'- this terrifying force that lays waste to all in its path. It seeks out the unworthy, and plucks them from the Earth. That was generally me." He added.
"Nice." John muttered sarcastically.
Sherlock added, glancing towards Mycroft: "He was a rubbish big brother."
John smiled, knowing there was no bite in Sherlock's words. Sherlock answered it, and John scuffed his foot slightly, debating. He finally cleared his throat, asking quietly: "So what about you, then? Where are you actually going now?"
"Oh, some undercover work in Eastern Europe." Sherlock answered lightly. But John saw the way Sherlock's face became grim, and his eyes flickered to Marie once more.
"For how long?" John asked softly.
"Six months, my brother estimates." Sherlock replied.
John swallowed, but then he was winded as Sherlock added quietly: "Five by Marie's estimate. She's never wrong."
John swallowed, hard, nodding determinedly. But even though he tried to hide his pain, John couldn't and he quickly turned his head before he did something embarrassing like cry.
But John returned his attention to Sherlock as the taller man began softly: "John, there's something ... I should say."
John looked at him expectantly, and Sherlock's eyes were shifting uneasily as he continued: "I-I've meant to say always and then never have. Since it's unlikely we'll ever meet again, I might as well say it now."
John frowned slightly.
'Why does it feel like I'm at the receiving end of a confession?' He wondered briefly as he waited for Sherlock to finish his sentence.
Sherlock said at last: "Sherlock is actually a girl's name."
John began laughing, and Sherlock cracked a smile. John continued chuckling as he returned: "It's not."
"It was worth a try." Sherlock replied with a smile.
"We're not naming our daughter after you." John chuckled, and Sherlock shrugged as he answered: "I think it could work."
John snorted, and the pair fell silent once more. John glanced at Sherlock, his smile fading and his face becoming grim once more. Sherlock's lips twitched up into a smile and he held up his hand.
"To the very best of times, John." Sherlock said quietly. John hesitated, swallowing hard once more, before he firmly took Sherlock's hand. They shook hands just once, although their grasp lingered for a moment longer than necessary. But the time had come and John let go.
As he did, Sherlock's eyes slid behind John once more. John glanced back, and Marie and Mary walked over as John headed back. Mary stopped by the car, and John headed back to his wife as Marie walked on ahead alone. John nodded at her as she went past, and she just gave a short jerk of her head.
John joined Mary as Marie reached Sherlock, reaching up to hug him for the last time. Sherlock clung to her, feeling the baby bump once more, and he swallowed hard. He finally pulled back slightly, brushing his hands across Marie's cheeks as he gazed into her bright green eyes.
"I'll always love you." He murmured and she nodded.
Her eyes were shining with repressed tears as she promised him: "And you will always be in my heart."
Sherlock smiled and then nodded at her stomach.
"Take care of him or her. And let them know I am so sorry and that I love them." Sherlock murmured.
Marie nodded, swallowing hard. Sherlock leaned down, kissing her softly. She kissed back, a tear falling down her cheek even though she'd tried so hard not to cry.
The kiss deepened, becoming more desperate as Marie clutched Sherlock's upper arms and he hugged her as tightly as he dared. But everything had its time, and their time was up. Sherlock brushed his lips over Marie's one last time before he let go.
Marie let out one sob, clutching Mary's hand as the other woman walked up and wrapped a comforting arm around her friend. John stood beside them in a stoic show of support as the three watched Sherlock walk away, heading over to his brother.
Mycroft had been watching with raised brows, but he nodded once in farewell to his brother as Sherlock passed him. Sherlock returned the gesture before making his way up the steps, only looking back once. His blue eyes bore into Marie's for one second and she choked on a sob as he then turned and disappeared into the plane.
Mary hugged her friend tightly and John wrapped his arm around them both as Marie broke down into tears. Mycroft walked back to them as the plane took off, taking Sherlock away. Forever.
He sighed as he took in Marie's devastated state and John glanced back accusingly at Mycroft's cold demeanour. But Mycroft had long forgotten what it was like to comfort another person- if he'd ever known it at all- and he simply got back into his car. And at that moment his phone rang.
Sherlock had been gazing morosely out the window, thinking sadly about Marie, when one of the attendants called: "Sir?"
Sherlock glanced over, and the man held out a phone, explaining: "It's your brother."
Sherlock frowned slightly but took the phone, asking into it: "Mycroft?"
"Hello, little brother. How is the exile going?" Mycroft asked easily, and Sherlock pointed out a little irritated with his brother's lack of tact: "I've only been gone four minutes."
"Well, I certainly hope you've learned your lesson." Mycroft replied, and Sherlock frowned slightly, lifting his head in disbelief as Mycroft continued: "As it turns out, you're needed."
"Oh, for God's sake. Make up your mind." Sherlock snapped, but his voice held no real bitterness.
Hope returned to him as he questioned: "Who needs me this time?"
"England." Mycroft answered flatly.
Sherlock frowned, puzzled, wondering what that meant. But Mycroft was staring at the screen in his screen, showing an image of a beaming man with short brown hair and manic dark, almost black eyes. The same image that was playing across every screen all over England, playing the same message: "Did you miss me?"
Marie was clutching her stomach, her face white, while John was supporting the woman. He was honestly afraid she was going to pass out or worse in her current state.
Mary was protesting as she fluttered her hands about, trying to help as well: "But he's dead. I mean, you told me he was dead, Moriarty."
"Absolutely. He blew his own brains out." John muttered, trying to keep Marie up as Mary tried to help while keeping one hand on her own bulging stomach.
Mary demanded as she rubbed soothing circles on her ashen friend's back: "So how can he be back?"
Marie moaned and Mary fussed: "It's okay, just keep breathing."
Marie took deep breaths, while John paused, glancing off into the distance.
"Well, if he is," John said suddenly and both women looked over at him, "he'd better wrap up warm."
Marie turned to look and her eyes widened and her heart leapt. John sighed as Mary also turned to look, while John muttered dryly: "There's an East Wind coming."
The three watched as Sherlock's plane, having made a U-turn, came back down onto the runway. Marie smiled, suddenly feeling- despite everything and even Moriarty's supposed return- that everything was going to be okay. Sherlock.
*A/N Thank you to everyone who read and supported this story! I may or may not do 'Abominable Bride' depending on how many of you ask, so please let me know in the reviews if you would like more! Otherwise,I'm afraid a sequel will have to wait until BBC finally decides to grace us with the next season (2017!) but I wanted to thank each and every person once again for sticking with this book until its end. Until next time!