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Chapter 28

John met Mycroft right where he was asked to at 5:30. Mycroft told him that he was to stay here no matter what. They were currently trying to figure out what kind of explosive Moriarty was using so they could map out a minimum safe distance.

Mycroft didn't talk to John for long because he was busy trying to figure out how to keep his little brother safe, so John moved over to sit by another building to watch the scene. Currently, Moriarty and Moran (or so Molly had told him earlier) were sitting in the middle of Piccadilly Square, waiting. John looked down at his watch and took note of the time: 5:44, before looking back. He looked just in time to see Sherlock slowly approach the psychopath and his sidekick.

He signaled to Mycroft, who hushed his crew. They all watched as Sherlock began talking with the two men.

'Glad you could make it, Sherlock.' Moriarty said. He was perched on the steps in front of the statue of Eros. Moran was standing close by. Sherlock kept his distance, but approached the two men, still breathing heavily from the run. He snuck a look at his watch. 5:44. He watched Moriarty closely and Moran even closer. He didn't trust either, but Moran did the dirty work for Moriarty.

'I'll admit, I doubted you would get here on time. You seemed quite tired this morning after a night of no sleep.' He smirked. Moran snickered. Sherlock glared. 'Yet, here you are.'

'I am smarter than quite a few people give me credit for.' Sherlock retorted.

'I realize that. Now, let me ask you, what is your purpose in solving that riddle? Why are you here?' Moriarty squinted as he raised his gaze to Sherlock.

'What do you mean? I'm here to save innocent lives.' Sherlock said incredulously. That's why I do anything.'

'Liar.' Moriarty stood at that, stepping down to ground level. 'You do everything else because you'd get bored without it.' He shook his head for emphasis, 'Not this. Why did you come here?'

Sherlock looked down in confusion. 'Do I need a reason?'

Moriarty laughed. 'Yes, Sherlock, you need a reason. And you weren't bored this time. You were just getting accustomed to a life without cases every day. You were just getting settled down with Molly. I think she is why you're here.'

'What?' There was an attempt to hide the truth in Sherlock's voice.

Moriarty hissed. 'You know that if you fail, you die. That means you have to leave her. You know she loves you, even more now than ever before, and if you die, you'll leave her devastated. However, if you succeed, you have to – excuse me, you get to work for me. You recognize that while I have no soul to send to Hell, I am not completely heartless and will let you visit her and bring her gifts. If you succeed, which you are determined to do, you can keep her safe and happy.'

Sherlock wanted to say something. He wanted to assure Moriarty he was wrong, that he was only doing this for himself, to prove that he could do this, but he couldn't get any sound out.

Moriarty cut in when Sherlock didn't respond. 'Sherlock, no matter what you try to tell yourself, you are completely human. You are not extraordinary. You are in love. With Molly Hooper.'

Sherlock shook his head, but Moran cleared his throat, attracting the attention of both geniuses.

'We have to proceed, sir.'

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. Moriarty nodded and stepped back. He sat down again and pointed to a duffel bag not fifteen yards away. 'See that?' Sherlock looked and nodded. 'That's the bomb. Very destructive. If you don't figure it out, we will all die.'

'And you're taking that risk with someone you doubted would be here?' Sherlock laughed.

'Yes, actually, I am. I may have doubted your code-solving skills, but I trust you in hand-to-hand combat, and you are very good at cheating.'

'Cheating?' Sherlock was really confused now. 'How am I cheating? And I never agreed to hand-to-hand.'

'I know.' Moriarty took another step back and smirked. 'Good luck disarming that bomb.'

Sherlock checked his watch again. 5:54. Where was Lestrade?

When he looked up, he barely had any time to prepare before Moran lunged, slamming his fist into the side of Sherlock's face.

Molly checked her watch 5:44. She stood outside of a store just next to Piccadilly and watched Sherlock approach the two awaiting men. She watched them talk, she watched from afar, John react to the discussion. She watched Sherlock take the first hit, and every one after that. She watched Mycroft try and stop John from jumping to Sherlock's rescue. She watched Lestrade approach the same Square and look around before trying to sneak into the square.

'Detective Inspector!' Moriarty greeted Lestrade, who didn't know he was there and jumped. 'How nice of you to show up! Sherlock, this is cheating.' He called over to Sherlock, who was being strangled by Moran, who obviously had the upper hand. Moran was buff, though shorter than Sherlock, but he definitely had more muscle. Sherlock was skinny, skinnier than before his fall, due to lack of appetite and lots more exercise recently.

John was trying to get out to Sherlock when he saw Lestrade in the square. He shrank back into his corner, just thankful there was someone there who could help Sherlock. He was hurt that it wasn't him, though. He should be taking care of Sherlock. He should be stopping bad guys with him. He watched, feeling helpless.

Lestrade was focused on Moriarty, making sure the criminal didn't attack him, but he spoke to Sherlock. 'What do you need me to do?' He called. 'I didn't actually know we would be fighting crime, so I have no backup.' He took a short glance over at Sherlock who was still struggling against Moran to get the upper hand.

'No, that's fine!' Sherlock choked out. 'I need you to start on that bomb over there!' He tried to point, but failed when the absence of his hand gave Moran the chance to wrap his arm around Sherlock's torso and throw him to the ground.

Lestrade looked around and saw the duffel bag. He dashed toward it, still aware of Moriarty's location. He unzipped the bag.

'Careful, Detective Inspector, you don't want to set it off accidentally.' Moriarty taunted. Lestrade took more care as he lifted the top away to reveal a surprisingly small explosive device. There was a timer set on top, ticking down. The current time left was three minutes and fourteen seconds. He inhaled sharply and looked around the outside of the device for any wires or traps.

He was so focused on the bomb that he didn't see Moriarty walk around to stand behind him, facing Sherlock.

'Sherlock! I warned you I couldn't have you being helped. This is what happens when you don't follow my rules!' He sang. Sherlock looked up from the ground, and Moran stopped punching him long enough to see Moriarty pull a gun from his pocket and point it behind him at Lestrade's head.

'Greg!' Sherlock, Lestrade, and Moriarty all turned to see Molly standing in between two buildings, looking intense and shocked. Moriarty smiled. Molly screamed. Sherlock shouted, 'NO!' Lestrade fell to the ground, a small bullet hole in his back beginning to weep.

From the other side of the square, John's mind was whirling. Sherlock knew he couldn't beat Moran. John watched Lestrade get shot by a horrible, evil man, but he was the most surprised to see Molly, standing so close to it all. She slowly walked toward the duffel bag. He knew what she was doing. She was going to shut off the bomb, or at least attempt to. He ignored Mycroft's second attempt to stop him and stood from his position, reaching behind him to pull his own gun from his belt. He stepped into the arena and pointed his gun directly at Moriarty's head.

'Stop.' He ordered. Moriarty laughed.

'Sherlock, you have failed in many ways! You have two minutes to get rid of the most obvious danger, and you claimed you could do it alone. Yet here we are…all five of us. Well, six, if you'd count dead men.'

Sherlock saw that Moran was still holding him down, but not paying attention to him, and took the opportunity to bring his fist up under Moran's chin. The man groaned and stumbled back, giving Sherlock the chance to grab his arm and wrap it around his back, breaking it. Moran screamed in pain.

Moriarty smiled. He took his gun and pointed it toward Sherlock, who was surprised himself by Moran pulling a knife and twisting Sherlock to hold it against his throat. 'Go ahead, John, shoot me. But you know in the time it takes for that bullet to reach me, I have time to pull this trigger. Good luck keeping Sherlock alive.'

John watched as Sherlock struggled against Moran and sputtered, 'John, it's okay. Kill him! The world would be so much better without us both!'

John shook his head. 'I can't.'

'You are so weak!' Sherlock shouted. He could feel the blade pressed firmly up against his throat. 'I don't matter! Kill his and spare the world the lost lives he has caused! Think of Lestrade!'

John lowered his gun, shaking his head, and approaching the psychopath directly in front of him. He stood so that their faces were equal, just inches apart, noticing Moriarty drop his own gun hand. He glared into the man's eyes. 'You may be a criminal and completely insane, but I won't kill you if it means risking that man's life. He is greater than you could ever be. He is smarter and stronger, and taller, both physically and morally. You are a pathetic piece of shit. Have fun in Hell.'

For the first time, John saw Moriarty confused. He smiled his own deviant smile and pulled the trigger.

Moriarty stumbled back, surprised. His eyes widened and he dropped his gun and brought both hands to his stomach, where his Westwood suit was becoming drenched with blood. His hands pressed against the wound, causing more blood to gush out. He dropped to his knees, unwilling to look John in the eye as he withered away. He did, however, look over at Sherlock, who was watching in just as much shock, as his nemesis fell before him.

Moriarty uttered one last word as he fell, face-first, into the asphalt. 'Sentiment.'

John stared at the body on the ground, unmoving, eyes unseeing. Moran was frozen where he stood, arms becoming slack, knife no longer intent on Sherlock's neck. When Sherlock felt his attacker weaken, he stepped back on Moran's instep and brought his arms back behind his back, paralyzing the hit man.

'Sherlock! I can't do this!' Molly cried from in front of the bag. She was watching the timer count: 30, 29, 28, 27, pleading with God, with anyone to show her how to disarm it. Sherlock was too busy trying to keep the assassin, who was aware of the situation again, from stuggling and gaining the upper hand again, and John was still frozen, speechless above Moriarty.

When there was no answer, Molly studied the bomb. On the outer shell there were three noticeable things. There was the timer, of course (23, 22, 21), there was a panel of wires, and there was a red button. It was a small red button, and Molly was conflicted over whether that would automatically set it off, or if it would shut it off.

14, 13, 12…

She was panicking, her hands becoming shaky, her breath increasing.

8, 7, 6…

'What do I do?!' She screamed.

4, 3, 2…

She jammed her hand into the panel of wires and ripped them out, bracing herself for an explosion, but instead hearing the beeping of the timer stop.

Sherlock whispered, loud enough for her to hear, 'Amazing…'

Immediately, Mycroft and his posse of elite British soldiers and whatnot gathered around the smaller group, cuffing Moran, retrieving Moriarty's body, and carefully picking up the bomb.

Molly turned her attention to Lestrade, who was coughing quietly, eyes glazed over, but still alive. She placed her hands on his cheeks and pointed his face toward her own. 'Stay with me, Greg!' She used one hand to brush the tear creeping out of his eye away, and the other was placed on his chest. She was trying to lift his head to place it on her lap, but paramedics came to fetch his body away before she could say or do anything else.

She stayed crouched on the ground, crying, sobbing, bawling salty tears into the small puddle of Lestrade's blood. She felt something fall around her shoulders and looked up to see Sherlock drape an orange blanket over her back before he knelt in front of her. She threw her arms around his neck, startling him, but soon enough, he returned the comfort and wrapped his own arms around her. This whole idea of going back to 'pre-death Sherlock' was not working out well.

'You saved the day, Molly.' He whispered into her hair.

She sobbed harder.

Okay, don't hate me. All will be explained. But in 2 weeks...

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