Author's Note: Just one more chapter after this, folks! Hope you enjoy! ;)

"Paolo!" Samantha screamed as her friend was dropped into the water. She moved to sprint after him but found herself looking down the barrel of her own gun.

"Sorry, love," Moriarty said, the malice in his eyes cutting through her, "You don't get to be the hero of this story."

There came a sudden and loud crack as Sherlock's fist went through Moriarty's jaw. The consulting criminal was knocked to his knees.

"Go!" Sherlock told her. Samantha responded automatically and dashed for the edge of the yacht. She dropped her coat, kicked off her shoes and swan-dived into the lake below. The initial shock of hitting the ice-cold water disorientated her for a moment and hundreds of tiny bubbles obscured her vision. Nevertheless she swam downward with all her strength, driven solely by Paolo's short minutes. Through the murkiness she could make out a large shape on the lake bed. Reaching out, she could feel chains. As she pulled herself closer, Paolo's head and shoulders became visible. He was struggling futilely within his restraints. Samantha pulled at the chains with both her feet planted on the lake bed. It was no use. The chains were too heavy. She would have to break them open or Paolo would drown. She searched frantically for a weak link. Paolo, having noticed her, seemed to be nodding his head towards something. There was a sharp rock imbedded in the mud next to them. Paolo then pointed his chin towards one shoulder indicating the padlock that clasped his chains together. Samantha reached for the rock, clawing with her fingers to free it from the mud. She tried to be calm and not panic but every second she spent under water was one second closer to losing Paolo. The rock remained stuck despite her efforts. She dug her fingers into the mud to try and leverage the rock from underneath. She scratched and pulled, dirt embedding painfully beneath her nails, until the rock came loose in her hands. She turned back to Paolo who seemed to be losing consciousness. Her efforts to remain calm had failed. Her friend was going to die if she didn't act now. She was running out of oxygen but didn't have the time to resurface for air. It was now or never. With one hand she clutched the padlock and with the other she struck it with the sharp end of the rock. The resistance of the water dampened her blow so she tried again, hitting harder and closer to her target. She hit again and again and again, her frustration knotting into a sob that was ready to burst from her chest. And just when all seemed hopeless, the padlock broke and gave way. Samantha pulled away the chains that seemed to fall apart easily under their own weight. She shook Paolo, hoping for his cooperation but he was barely with her. Having unbound his upper body she grabbed him underneath his arms and pulled. The rest of the chains were still weighing him down. She was by now exhausted and her lungs were burning for oxygen. Frantic, she pinched Paolo as hard as she could on the back of his arm. This seemed to arouse him somewhat and as she pulled again he helped this time by wriggling his legs out of the rest of the chains. And then he was free. With one final exertion fuelled by desperate hope, Samantha swam hard until she burst through the surface of the lake. She consumed a lung full of air as she pulled Paolo's head above the water. Her first thought was to check if he was breathing but she could barely catch her own breath to even gather her bearings. Before she knew it however, she and Paolo were being roughly pulled onto what seemed to be a raft. Paramedics fussed over her, propped her upright, shone a light in her eyes and shoved an oxygen mask on her face. It took a moment for her breathing to find rhythm again but her disorientation dissipated when it did. She glanced at Paolo who was also being tended to but she couldn't tell if he was ok. Her attempts to find out were interrupted by the paramedic who insisted she keep her oxygen mask on. She glanced back at Moriarty's yacht but couldn't see anything from where she was. In spite of this, she knew it was all over. She knew that she had won. This was the end of a long and gruelling chapter in her life and one she was eager to put behind her. This was it. This was her chance at a fresh start.

Paolo was fine, though rather lucky that Samantha had rescued him in time. He was still on oxygen however so she it best to leave him recuperate.

There was a van and a couple of cars parked on the lake shore. People that Samantha assumed were from the agency were to-ing and fro-ing. Just ahead she could see the Holmes brothers side by side. Mycroft noticed her just then and approached her.

"Not too much the worst for wear I hope," he said without so much as an ounce of genuine concern, but with more of a mere courtesy.

"I'll be fine," Samantha replied, hugging the insulating blanket around her.

"I commend your efforts today. Despite your previous endeavours with Moriarty you made sure we could have him in custody."

Samantha nodded, her gaze falling to the ground. She was in part responsible for this entire mess to begin with. Mycroft's praise felt undeserving.

"Any plans after all this is over?" he enquired.

"No," she replied solemnly, "Not yet."

"Well, if you can't make up your mind," Mycroft said as he turned to leave again, "do get in touch. I'm always on the look out for new talent."

At that moment, Samantha caught sight of Moriarty as he was being escorted towards the van by two agents. His fate was unknown to her and so she took this opportunity to get one last word in.

She approached the van.

"Can I have a moment, please?" she said, addressing the agents. The agents glanced at each other and agreed to give her two minutes. They stood aside out of earshot, but close enough to be able to react if necessary. Samantha gazed at Moriarty. The great consulting criminal looked pitiful battered and bound in cuffs. For a long moment she didn't know what to say. Moriarty's expression was unreadable but he wouldn't take his eyes off her for a second. Samantha looked back at Sherlock and noted his black eye and burst lip. There must have been a scuffle on the yacht while she was underwater.

"Good tango then?" she commented.

"It always is with Sherlock Holmes," Moriarty replied with a hint of amusement in his dark eyes.

There were a million more things she wanted to say just then.

Are you happy now?

Was it worth?

I hope you rot in hell.

Instead she found herself saying, "Paolo almost died."

"That was rather the point," Moriarty replied and the flippancy in his voice turned her expression hard.

"And what about me?" she said, "Was there any part of you that cared what happened to me?"

She instantly regretted her words and her mouth snapped shut as if to prevent her vulnerability from escaping any further. Moriarty stepped closer so that his face was a hair's breadth from hers. He stared at her mouth for a moment and then back up to her eyes. Samantha swallowed the lump in her throat. Despite the insulating blanket, she stood shivering.

"I saw your pain," Moriarty said, his tone peculiarly mixed between matter-of-factly and pitying. "I saw it in your eyes, I felt it on your lips, I felt it inside of you. And I used it. I used it to pull your strings and make you dance to my song."

Samantha's jaw clenched tightly. She knew all of this. She had even accepted it. But it still stung, probably because she felt so foolish for letting herself get in too deep in the first place.

"But did I care?" Moriarty continued as the agents pulled him away from her and sat him in the back of the van. "Maybe," he said, "In another universe."

The van doors slammed shut, and those were the last words Samantha would ever hear from James Moriarty.