Hey all! I know it's been a while so hello I missed you guys! Time for some shoutouts huh?!
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What you've been waiting for:
Sherlock's POV
I had just received my next instruction from Moriarty and Moran. I walked another five blocks north and came to a door on the side of an unnamed building with graffiti that uttered so many ugly and disturbing things. I carelessly twisted the knob and walked to my death. If I actually made it out of here alive I'd look back and take pity on how ridiculous I had been acting. But at the moment this was the way I would be and it felt right. I'm not a hero so I shouldn't act like one. Some may consider dying for your friends, now twice, is heroic. But in all honesty, heroes just don't want anyone else to die when they could have prevented their demise. Why should another person die because of me? You could look back and name a hundred people that did just because I wasn't as quick to conclusions as the knife or the bullet or whatever the hell they died of was. I didn't care anymore. I just wanted this fucked up game to end. I wanted it to end with one fatality and one only; unless Satan decides he wants his demon spawn that comes in the form of Moriarty back in his lair. That would satisfy my dying wish. To have the shitty little bastard dead so he couldn't kill or even touch anyone ever again.
My anger grew more and more with every instruction I received. Walk this way, wait here, do this. It was all so tedious and boring and unnecessary. My last request came in.
You've arrived, Sherlock. Sorry there's no tea to welcome you like you did so kindly to me all those months ago. It's been so long. We need to catch up don't you think? Head up the stairs on your right and drop the weapon you are obviously caring on the top step. Go through the door on your left and we'll have a nice chat. All three of us. Poor Irene is a bit unconscious right now. –M&S
My hand clenched around the mobile tightly, the knuckles on my fingers whitening. I wished I could break it under the hard compression but I couldn't and pocketed the mobile. With long strides, I cleared the vast amount of stairs in a matter of seconds and set my pistol on the top stair. I had realized the urgency of the situation and burst through the door.
Irene lay slumped over on a ratty mattress. In the dim light I could make out the split in her lip and the cut on her eyebrow growing to her forehead. But what stood out the most was the large, deep gash across her thigh. I immediately raced to her side, kneeling down before her. I sat her back gently up against the wall and tended to her heavily bleeding leg. As I wrapped my scarf around her wound and tightened it she woke out of her unconsciousness and scrambled away from me with a fright.
"Irene no. It's me. Sherlock," I pleaded with her as I held her by her forearms. Her scared eyes looked up at me through her greasy, wet hair and they softened ever so slightly. Pain and suffering and fear still riddled beneath her blue irises. She suddenly came to the realization of her injury and gasped horrifically as she applied pressure to her thigh. Her hands shook and her teeth chattered together hurriedly and I stood and took off my coat and wrapped it around her small frame as I kneeled back down.
"Sherlock what are you doing here?" she asked through gritted teeth as she dealt with the searing pain and rested her head on the wall behind her.
"I came to take your place. Now let's get you out of here."
"Not so fast," A deep rumbling voice sounded throughout the room.
I stood up swiftly and turned around, standing in front of Irene defensively. In the corner of the room there were two pairs of polished black shoes. The figures, Moriarty and Moran stepped into the light.
Moran had spoken and continued, "We have agreed to let Irene live and we will stick by that-"
"But we aren't letting her leave without a show," Moriarty added as he finished the other man's sentence gleefully.
"That was never part of the deal," I hissed angrily, "She doesn't have to go this too. Let. Her. Go."
The two men looked at each other and laughed briefly.
"No," muttered Moran.
"You aren't the one to call shots here, Sherlock. You have no power here. You're defenseless, don't you understand? There's nothing you can do to stop the hell that will rain down on you and the people you care about," Moriarty added as he put his hands in his pockets.
"If you try anything, anything at all, We will kill the whore and your lovely little girl," Moran threatened.
A flash of a shadow passed across the window of the door I had entered through. I knew it was Molly and I knew she had my gun in her hands. She's never shot anyone and she doesn't want to ever kill anyone but hopefully her mind will change now.
"You two are so insufferably moronic," I said never looking to the door and giving Molly away, "I won't try anything. I won't let anyone else get hurt in my place. Clearly you don't know me as well as you thought me out to be. Doing this won't make me a hero or a victim. This is all my fault. If I wouldn't have chosen to make up my own profession, none of these people that I care about would even know me. That would be a hell of a lot better than what it is now. I'm so completely and utterly done with your bullshit, Moriarty. And Moran," I directed towards him, "You're the sniper that was set to kill John and from my deductions, you have met him before. Maybe he even patched you up before. Saved your life a couple of times too if I'm not mistaken which I never am."
Moran visibly swallowed, hard, realizing how deceiving and cold and calculating he had become.
"This disgusting cycle of death and suffering needs to end and it's going to end here and NOW!" I yelled.
In a flash Molly erupted through the door. Her gun trained on Moriarty, she stood for a moment both of the men standing motionless in confusion. She took a deep breath and fired the weapon.
Just as fast, Moran jumped in front of Moriarty the bullet lodging deep into his stomach. He stood for a moment holding his hand to his belly. He had been shot before and he welcomed the pain that came afterwards. Moran collapsed onto the ground and Moriarty caught his head before it could smash onto the hard ground. They didn't have any guns on their person; they wanted to torture him, not kill him quickly.
It was then that I turned my attention to Molly. She still held the gun trained in her hand on the men slumped on the floor. Fear and anger and disgust showed through her eyes and her expression. Tears stinged the corner of her eyes and her hands shook violently. I raised my hand and slowly took the gun out of her grasp. She turned to look at me and she wiped her tears hurriedly.
"Sherlock I-"
"I know, Molly. You did what you had to do."
I pulled her into a tight hug and she wrapped her arms around my waist just as tight. I smoothed her hair down with my hand and kissed the top of her head before whispering, "Thank you for saving my life."
"You'll never be alone, Sherlock," she breathed back.
"I know."
"You still have to be all lovey dovey over there? I'm bleeding you know!"
Molly immediately broke away from me and rushed to Irene's side. She may not have studied to be a doctor but she had the most experience so I left her to tend to Irene. I pointed the gun at Moriarty. He was still cradling Moran's large frame in his arms. He was whispering to him, their foreheads pressed up against each other. Blood sprayed across Moriarty's cheek as Moran coughed it up. In a minute he would be dead. They were clearly more than accomplices together. There was something else there. Love.
I hadn't realized that an evil man like Moriarty could love another human being. I felt a tang of sorrow for the man who was now quietly blubbering into his lover's chest. Moran's face was pale, his eyes glazed over with the cadaverous film that came with death. He was gone and so was Moriarty. He set Moran's head back onto the floor slowly and stood, head slumped forward. Tirelessly he lifted his head to look at Molly. She was staring back at him with fury and guilt in her eyes.
"You…" he said slowly. "You…stupid…bitch!" he yelled.
Out of nowhere he switched open a knife that was concealed in his hand and lurched forwards towards Molly. Before he could get to her, I grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back. He wasn't as quick as he used to be and the knife clattered to the floor. I was tempted to shoot him in the back of the head. Kill him now and everything will go back to normal. But then something came to mind.
"Where's Thomas?"
Moriarty chuckled weakly, "I killed that sissy. He was too weak and too independent. He didn't take my orders so I showed him what happens when people don't listen. Ordinary people are the worst kind of people. Just like you, Molly Hooper. You were so-"
I had heard enough. I hit him in the back of the head with the butt of the pistol and he fell to the floor, out cold.
Later I would get a call from Mycroft. Moran was confirmed dead and Moriarty was taken to prison without trial.
For now all I wanted was to go home.
"Come now, Molly," I said picking up Irene who had become unconscious once again, "Let's get her to the hospital and then we'll go back to London."
Molly simply smiled and we left as Mycroft had been coming up the stairs with his personal policemen. We didn't say anything to each other, only exchanged glances and nodded.
BOOM! This was such a fun chapter to write omg! I really like how it turned out and usually I don't. I hope all of this satisfied you guys! This no where near the end of this fic I've been working on for so long so don't freak out! We've still got a long way to go and I'm no where near done with this story I've created. When I was typing out the title of the chapter I almost accidentally entered "I Am No Herp" oh I laughed too hard at this xD Thanks to FreeSpiritSeeker for beta-ing! Thanks so much, hon! Also thanks to the abundance of favorites and follows I got over the week. Hopefully I'll get more reviews from you lovely newcomers! *hint hint*
~Mel