Eleven Hours Later
Sherlock's eyes ripped open at the sound of a man's subdued voice. He frantically pushed himself up and looked around in confusion. It was quite dark in the chapel, what time was it? Seven in the morning, maybe? The voice was still incoherent to him and the fact that it needed to penetrate a stone wall to get to him surely wasn't helping.
"John, wake up." He gently shook his friend awake.
"Hmm?" said John while rubbing his eyes. Suddenly he heard the voice as well, and quickly John sat up. The two of them concentrated on the voice to see if they could understand it. Clearly, it was being spoken through a megaphone, but it still took them a while to make out what they were saying:
"...Surrender or we will enter the building. Repeat: Surrender or we will enter the building. Resistance is useless, Mister Holmes. We know you're in there."
Sherlock and John both stared at each other, trying to comprehend what had happened. John was just about to open his mouth to give a witty remark back but Sherlock placed his finger over his mouth.
"Stay quiet," he whispered, "If they don't know we heard them we can still surprise them."
"What are we going to do, Sherlock? By the looks of it, they've got the entire chapel surrounded," John whispered back.
"I don't know..." Sherlock looked down.
"We have to come up with something. There isn't much time until they-" There was a bang on the door. The two of them turned their heads to it. The men on the other side were already trying to tear it down.
"Get up!" Sherlock commanded while pulling John into a standing position. He took him by the hand and the two of them stood in front of the door.
Another bang hit the door and Sherlock could tell not many more would be needed to break it down.
The man on the other end's foot hit the door once more, and John was sure he heard a crack. Just before the last push, Sherlock bent over to John and whispered:
"Once the door opens, make a run for it."
"What about the bag?"
"Leave it."
"And the gun?"
"Leave it." John wasn't certain that was a good idea, but Sherlock seemed so confident about it all he simply decided to trust him. He nodded and turned his head back, staring at the door again. The man hit the door one more time and it slammed open.
"Now!" Sherlock yelled and the two of them ran for the door, not letting go of each other's hands. The man holding the rifle was so surprised that they basically just needed to run past him. In front of the small chapel waited six more armed men and the man holding the megaphone. They all pointed their weapons at them but instead of standing still, Sherlock just ran even faster than before, practically tearing John with him. He took a sharp turn to the right and ran through a small garden, which was in front of the chapel.
"After them!" he heard a man yell behind them. The two men headed for the main road, which led them up a small hill. A gunshot scared the two but didn't hit either. Sherlock took a shuddered breath as he tightened his hand around John and they curved with the road. Once they reached the top of the hill, they came to an intersection where Sherlock turned right on a long, straight and flat street. The two of them looked back, completely out of breath but still running, to see whether their chasers were still right behind them. They had gotten farther behind but were still very keen to catch them. Another gunshot rang out and Sherlock and John automatically ducked their heads.
"Run in a slalom! They won't be able to shoot like that!"
John could hardly see how that would help.
"I could easily shoot someone who was running in a slalom. Oh Jesus..." He closed his eyes for a moment when for the third time he heard a gunshot.
"Don't compare yourself to them, John, it makes them look too bad." John smiled at him. Was that an actual compliment coming from Sherlock Holmes? Actually, when John thought about it, it was closer to being an insult.
Good old Sherlock.
"Okay, fine!" He started running left then right, left then right, hoping it wouldn't slow his pace too much. They ran over a bridge that passed a small river and as they continued to run along the road, they noticed how a small creek was flowing to the river in parallel to it. John turned his head back again to see where their pursuers were.
"Dammit, Sherlock! They're getting closer!"
"I know, John," Sherlock breathed through gritted teeth.
They arrived at a small building with a roof that covered funicular tracks at the end of the road. Sherlock quickly stopped running and looked around, searching for somewhere possible to go. Just then, a funicular slowly came down the tracks and into what turned out to be a station for it. An idea growing in Sherlock's mind, he grabbed John by his hand again and pulled him under the roof and up the steps. He opened the door to the front of the small train and pushed out the driver who then cursed at them in Swiss German. It wasn't hard to deduce which lever would start the train again, so quickly Sherlock pulled it and the wagon started climbing up the hill. John looked back and saw as the police were just arriving at the station when they took off. They took aim and at once all of them started shooting at the train.
"Sherlock, duck!" Sherlock turned his head, his eyes widening at the sight, just before John pulled him down and they were crouching on the part of the train that was surrounded by metal as it didn't have any windows.
"So is that it, did we lose them?" John asked while trying to catch his breath again once the bullets stopped.
"Hardly, there's another train coming our way, they'll be at the top soon." John pursed his lips and nodded as he slowly pushed himself up again. The funicular was next to a strong torrent, which seemed to be going at quite the speed. Wait, they were going up a hill and following a steep creek? John turned his head and looked above him. His eyes widened as he turned his head and found himself staring at the Reichenbach Falls themselves. He could smell the humidity in the air as the falls roared in the distance.
"I didn't realize we were actually going to the Reichenbach Falls."
Sherlock looked up at him then stood upright as well, just when the second funicular crossed their path.
"Yeah, well I decided that quite quickly too so..."
John let out a misplaced giggle and he looked up to the falls. "I didn't know they were that big."
"You don't know a lot of things, John."
"You can talk!" Just then the funicular arrived at the station. Sherlock hopped off the train and quickly looked around. John followed him out of the station and shielded his face when suddenly a great amount of water splashed onto him. A buzzing noise of water hitting sharp rocks was in his ears and finally he managed to take his arm away from his eyes. Immediately drops fell onto him and started wetting his forehead. He looked around as the train behind him started to descend; they were on their way then.
Beside the house that was actually just a small train station was a roof of glass and a path leading to and then alongside a cliff . Beside the gravel way stood a wall, maybe two inches thick, and then nothing but water for fifteen feet down at least.
Sherlock was standing on the path, his hair already soaked in water, looking around. There was only one way, and that was that small path along the cliff, and there was no telling where that was going unless...
"John, get on the edge of that wall."
John turned around frantically.
"What?!" He walked over to the edge, carefully examining the wall. Sherlock couldn't possibly be serious.
"That's an order, John!" Sherlock growled, water pouring down his face. John stared at him for a second, bit his lip, then nodded. He made his way to the glass roof and as it was only a little over six feet high, he could easily use it as something to hold onto while climbing onto the stone wall. He placed his left hand on the roof, the other on the wall and put his right foot onto it. John tried not to look down at the sharp rocks under him, took a deep breath and pushed himself up. He placed his left leg onto the wall and let go of the roof so he could turn around but lost balance while doing so. John's eyes widened as he leaned backwards over the edge flapping his arms frantically. Just before falling, he felt Sherlock's hand holding onto his collar. John opened an eye and let out a sigh of relief.
Now it was Sherlock's turn to get onto the wall. After John had carefully moved a little to the side, he found himself in the same position as John was before: left hand on roof, right foot on wall, right hand on wall. He closed his eyes for a second and concentrated on his plan, waiting for the right moment to get on.
For just a few seconds, he couldn't hear any of his thoughts anymore, not even the constant rustling of the Reichenbach Falls.
"There they are! Stop them!" Sherlock turned his head and saw that the police's train was just arriving at the station. His eyes widened, he looked back in front of him and pushed himself up. With great balance he turned himself around at record speed, took John's hand again for extra balance and shot the falls behind him one last look. All the policemen came running out from the wagon station, all already aiming their guns at Sherlock. He took a deep breath and put a hand in front of himself.
"Don't take a step closer!" he warned. All the men stopped at about a ten-foot distance from him. The leader of them, the one that before had been speaking in the megaphone, stepped forward to them. He narrowed his eyes and gave the two of them a poisonous look.
"Or what?" he practically spat out the words.
Sherlock swallowed and looked back once more.
"Or... I will jump." John took a shuddered breath at that and there was a short pause.
The officer then started laughing.
"Mister Holmes, you can't threaten me with suicide. We have permission to shoot you if you don't cooperate."
Sherlock's face fell. Of course! They shot at him in Paris! How could he be so stupid?! His wrist felt like it was being hammered again but he couldn't let it hurt him. Sherlock simply kept holding onto John trying to ignore it as much as possible.
The man stopped laughing and looked back to the others.
"Take aim." John looked over to Sherlock, and watched in horror as seven red dots were on his friend's face now. Sherlock looked back at him and with one look they exchanged a thousand words. John nodded and Sherlock ripped his head back at the others.
"Open fire!" Just before the men started shooting, Sherlock pulled John in front of him and held him there, John not visibly fighting back.
"Cease fire!" the man yelled once he saw that the red dots were now all over John. Everyone looked up from their guns and stared at him threateningly.
"You may have permission to shoot me, but I'm sure you'll be in a lot of trouble for shooting him!"
"Sir, I am allowed to shoot only the criminal," a man explained to the hesitant commander of the seven.
"But even if you do, I'll fall down and pull him down with me," said Sherlock, struggling to keep his balance with a man in front of him. John tried his hardest to be in a helpful position but it was difficult to A) stay in balance B) shield Sherlock enough and C) have enough space for the two of them.
Sherlock smiled as the officer seemed to be running out of options.
Come on... Just let me explain myself.
The colour seemed to vanish from the policeman's face, when suddenly he whispered something to the man who was kneeling closest to him. He nodded at him, got up, walked up to the two men, then with a swift move grabbed John and pulled him down. Sherlock looked into John's dark blue eyes as he saw his guardian angel being pulled away from him.
"No!" John screamed as the man's strong arms restrained him from doing anything. He tried to kick him but the officer wasn't so bad after all. Would his face not already be wet from the falls, Sherlock would have seen the single tear escape his eye. He was alone now. Him against eight officers pointing a weapon at him.
"One last warning, Mister Holmes." The officer said once he was sure John was taken care of.
"I will count to three and if you aren't off that wall by then..." Sherlock looked at him with tightly closed mouth. He turned his head over to John who was watching helplessly, still trying to free himself and mouthed him a "Sorry".
"Take aim. One..."
Sherlock swallowed hard as he weighed out his options. He bit his lip as he saw scarcely few: Go back to Pentonville, let them shoot him, or jump down. He looked down at the falls and knew that even if he did decide to jump he wouldn't be able to find the courage quickly enough to do so.
"Two..."
So this was it. He was going to die a fraud, shot in Switzerland, his best friend forced to watch. The only comfort he could find was that it would finally be over. Sherlock's feet felt light as if he was standing on a cloud. He closed his eyes and relaxed all his muscles.
"Three. Open fire."
Hello death. Nice to meet you
"Sherlock!" John cried out helplessly, like he had only once before in his life. The one other time he knew exactly what was going to happen but just didn't want to believe it; Sherlock was going to die.
Someone cried out to him. The only person left in the world who still believed in him. It was just like when he was in that lonely cell in Pentonville, blaming himself for everything that had happened. The last time this happened, hearing that voice, being reminded that there was still someone there had been the thing that helped him get out of there. And now, he was going to let the second time kill him.
"Wait!" he said waving his arms in front of him and almost losing balance from it. All the men rolled their eyes and looked up from their weapons.
"What is it now?!" they asked clearly frustrated.
"Mister Holmes, my patience is wearing very thin." John looked straight up at him curiously, wondering what the great detective had to offer this time.
"What is the name of this place, officer could you remind me please?" Sherlock asked. The man's mouth dropped open angrily.
"Mister Holmes, if you think this is some kind of game-"
"Oh no no no, of course not Sir! Just remind me of the name of this place."
The man sighed. "Meiringen."
"No, I mean the water falls here. What was their name again?" Sherlock asked in a seemingly innocent tone. The man rolled his eyes.
"The Reichenbach Falls. Any more questions?"
"Yes, one more. Could you please translate the word 'Reichenbach' to English?" The man looked back at him furiously having no idea where this was going. John looked up to him as he finally understood.
"Uh... Rich... Rich brook, I guess." The officer said, though suddenly his eyes widened as he caught on as well. Sherlock's lips curled into a wide smile.
"Exactly, officer."
"But... How is that relevant?"
"It's relevant as I first became known for recovering a painting of a waterfall, this waterfall to be precise. Shortly after that, a man named James Moriarty turned out to be called Richard or Rich Brook. I supposedly invented Moriarty-"
"You didn't supposedly do it! You were proven to have!"
"Please don't interrupt me. I do not like that at all."
The man closed his mouth, a little intimidated by the man on the wall.
"Now, can you tell me how it is possible to have such a coincidence in the 'real' world, but it is not possible that I know you're sleeping with his wife just because I saw you both have the same lipstick and perfume on you but he's the one wearing the wedding ring which has traces of the same nail polish that is next to your left ear, Officer, from a source that is no other than my own eyes?"
The officer's mouth opened in shock.
"You're what?" the other man yelled in burning fury and turned his gun, aiming it at the officer. John tried to hide his smile as he watched the fight Sherlock created blossom. One of the other men stopped just watching and took the weapon out of the angry man's hand.
"We can take care of this later, guys." Everyone looked back to Sherlock who had clearly made his point and was still standing on the wall.
"What do you want, Holmes?"
"I ask one thing of you: give me a second chance. Let me go on trial again so I can prove my innocence."
The officer looked around as he weighed out his options.
"Fine, Holmes. But if this doesn't work out for you and you break out of prison again I will find you, even if it's the last thing I do." Sherlock smiled again.
"Understood."
"Yield weapons," the man commanded and turned around, heading back for the train. John was released from the clutches of the policeman and he ran straight to Sherlock, quickly pulling him down the wall. He hugged him tightly the moment Sherlock was safe back on the ground, not caring how wet he was from the splashing of the falls.
"We made it, Sherlock," he whispered softly. As much as Sherlock wished that was true he couldn't help but say:
"We haven't made it yet."
"You were going to let them shoot you and fall down if they hadn't said yes, weren't you?"
"That was the price I was ready to pay to never have to go back to Pentonville again."
"...I hate you sometimes."
"I know."