36.

Even in her Mind Palace, Moriarty terrified Elspeth.

The room was bare and dark, and all she could see was him and his sharp features and eyes that shone with mocking humour. She made a quick glance over her shoulder but the stairs were gone and she was trapped in the room with Moriarty, forced to face her fear. I'm going to make you proud, she repeated in her head. I'm going to make you proud.

But the determination and courage and decision to finally face him drained from Elspeth the moment she saw Moriarty because she was petrified. She could barely move from the spot, swallowing against the lump forming in her throat and willing herself to say something – do something.

"This is it," Elspeth finally said. Her voice shook.

"This is it," Moriarty repeated, taunting her. He took a step towards her and Elspeth took a step back. "Oh Ellie, how do you expect to face your fears if you can't even confront me?"

He was right. Elspeth found it a struggle to maintain eye contact with him, so how was she going to face her fear. She was pathetic. Magnussen was right; Sherlock and John would've been better off without her.

"It's a real shame if you think about it," Moriarty continued, strolling towards Elspeth. He didn't touch her. Instead, he began to circle her in slow, deliberate movements, his voice soft in her ear. "Little Ellie Holmes, daughter of the great detective – can't even face a dead body without having a panic attack! It's laughable." As if to prove a point, Moriarty let out a loud laugh that bordered on manic and sent a shiver down Elspeth's spine. "And you came down here expecting to confront your fears. How sweet."

Where was she? Elspeth didn't recognise this cold, dark room – so dark that all she could see were the shadows. No furniture, no windows, no indication of where she might be. She'd always associated Moriarty with darkness and all that was wrong in the world. Perhaps that was why she couldn't see anything.

"I can do this," Elspeth whispered to herself. "I can do this."

"Can you?" Moriarty asked from behind her. "Can you really? Or is that something you tell yourself so you can sleep at night?"

Elspeth flinched, closing her eyes. It didn't stop Moriarty though.

"You know, I don't think Daddy Holmes and John Watson and lovely Mary would be very disappointed if you just died. You would love being dead – I should know, I played it for two years. It's so quiet, no one ever bothers you . . . then again, no one bothers with you anyway, do they, Ellie? I mean, if they really cared, you would've been rescued by now."

"They're looking for me," Elspeth insisted weakly. "Dad wouldn't just leave me –"

"That's what you think. But why aren't they here yet?"

Elspeth opened her mouth, then shut it again. It wasn't true – was it? Sherlock called her an idiot sometimes, and she knew that she got on his nerves, but who didn't fall out with their parents? He wouldn't ever leave her in Moriarty's clutches, not intentionally . . . would he? No, no, he wouldn't; Moriarty was playing mind games with her because that was what he did. He'd always done it. And yet, Elspeth couldn't shake the feeling that perhaps he was right, perhaps she was useless and no help to Sherlock and John. Tears sprung to her eyes at the thought.

"You have no idea what I've been doing to you, do you?" Moriarty murmured. He stood in front of her, so close she could feel his breath on her face, and tilted his head to the side as he gave her that grin she hated so much. "You've no idea how I've wormed myself into this –" Moriarty tapped her forehead. "– and how I've slowly ruined it, do you?"

"I have nightmares," Elspeth choked out. "And – and – panic attacks, and therapy –"

"And that's not what I meant. You really are an idiot, aren't you?" Moriarty scoffed.

"No."

"No?" he repeated. "No?"

"No," Elspeth said with more force, more conviction. She looked up and met Moriarty's eyes without difficulty. "No. I am not an idiot."

"Don't try to kid yourself, Ellie –"

"Shut up," Elspeth interrupted fiercely. "Shut up. You have ruined my life – I've been through therapy and I've lost count of how many nightmares and panic attacks I've had because of you, not to mention all the friggin' crap you put my family through, but this is it. You are not going to rule my life anymore and I am not afraid of you anymore! You might be a monster but you are still just a man and I hate you – I hate you more than anyone I've ever met before." Growing angrier and more confident, Elspeth felt herself walking towards Moriarty, who seemed to be backing away from her. "My friends and family love me and when they find me, we are going to kick your arse. I'm not afraid of you anymore, Moriarty."

Whirling around, Elspeth grinned when she saw the stairs and a light piercing through the darkness. She walked towards it.

"What are you doing?" Moriarty demanded. "You can't leave, not like that!"

"I can do whatever I like. This is my Mind Palace, remember? And I'm not afraid of you."

Elspeth grabbed hold of the banister, keeping herself steady, and started to walk up the stairs, feeling so proud of herself that her heart raced. She wasn't afraid anymore. She wasn't afraid anymore.

"ELSPETH!" Moriarty yelled after her. It didn't scare Elspeth, nor did it stop her as she continued up the stairs, finally reaching the corridor. She paused then, looking up and down. It was completely empty and yet Elspeth didn't feel alone.

"I did it," Elspeth said to herself. "I did it! I DID IT!" She laughed and screamed and whooped triumphantly, racing down the corridor, leaping into the air, spinning around so much that she felt dizzy, all because she had done it. She had faced Moriarty. And that was the best feeling in the world.

"For God's sake, get up."

Elspeth's eyes flickered opened, staring up at Seb uncertainly. He'd been trying to wake her up for a while, fearful that she might've slipped into a coma, or worse – died. But she'd been breathing despite and woke up after several attempts on Seb's part, struggling to keep her eyes on him, obviously in that strange place between being awake and being asleep.

". . . what?"

"Get up," Seb ordered. Elspeth struggled to sit up and Seb scowled, impatient. "Hurry up, we don't have all day." Her limbs feeling heavy and her head spinning, Elspeth groped the wall in an attempt to steady herself, only for Seb to grab her by the arm and haul her to her feet. If it wasn't for Seb's hand on her arm, Elspeth would've fallen flat on her face. "Come on."

She put one foot in front of the other, swaying unsteadily, and Seb rolled his eyes.

"Hurry up."

"'m trying," Elspeth murmured, breathless. It was hard to breathe even though she wasn't doing anything strenuous and she felt like she might fall over.

The room was spinning and Elspeth couldn't breathe and suddenly she felt herself falling, but Seb caught her before she could hit the ground, lifting her into his arms with ease. He held her close to his chest, Elspeth's eyelashes fluttering as she buried her face into the rough texture of his jacket, and Seb carried her to the ground floor.

"There she is," Moriarty cried, opening his arms when he saw Seb and smirking. "Our gorgeous leading lady. What's the matter, Ellie? Couldn't walk on your own?"

"She can barely stand," Seb said gruffly. At Moriarty's instruction, he put Elspeth down on her feet, the men watching as she swayed. Through her blurry vision, she could see those dark eyes.

Elspeth wasn't afraid. Not anymore.

"Oh Ellie, I've got something very special planned for you," Moriarty told her.

Elspeth didn't say anything, unable to form a coherent thought, but she gave Moriarty a hard stare. She hated him. She wasn't afraid anymore and she hated him so much, stiffening when he reached out, brushing her long hair behind her shoulders. With a wide grin, Moriarty cradled her face and stroked Elspeth's cheeks with his thumbs.

"Now," Moriarty murmured. "You're going to be a good girl and do everything we tell you to, aren't you, Ellie?" God, she hated the way he said her name. "You've got a very special role to play and you've got to do it properly."

"You won't win."

Moriarty laughed. "You keep telling yourself that." He patted her cheek and Elspeth couldn't help but smirk back at him. She wasn't afraid. "Now, unfortunately, you're not going to be awake for most of the action – Seb, would you mind doing the honours?"

Elspeth felt a hard hit to the back of her head, and then everything went black.

"I came as soon as I could," John said, panting and standing with one hand against the doorway for support, utterly exhausted from his journey. As soon as he got Sherlock's text, he'd kissed Mary and Abby and ran for the nearest cab, then down a few streets when the taxi got stuck at road diversions. The driver hadn't been particularly impressed when John threw some money at him and jumped out. "What's happened?"

"Have you got your gun?" Sherlock asked him. John frowned.

"My – my gun?" he repeated. "Sherlock, I just got back from the hospital – my wife had my baby, remember? Why would I have my gun?"

"Have you got it or not?"

"No. Sherlock, what's going on?" All John knew was that Sherlock needed his help, and that was enough to tear him from his wife's bedside. He didn't want to leave her, or Abby, but Sherlock had been so irritatingly cryptic that Mary urged him to go; their daughter was asleep, and Mary really wanted some rest.

"Never mind, I've got it," Sherlock said, patting his coat pocket as he continued to pace back and forth, clutching – what appeared to be – sweet wrappers in his hand and whirling around to face John with an excited gleam in his eyes. It was the most animated John had seen him since Elspeth disappeared.

"This is clever, oh, this is very clever," Sherlock said. He dropped the sweet wrappers on the ground but didn't seem to notice. "This is so clever."

John felt lost. "What is?"

"I know where she is, John, I know where Ellie is!"

It took John a second to comprehend what Sherlock had said to him, and when he did, he felt ecstatic, excited, amazed that Sherlock had finally figured it out. "What?" he spluttered. "How? Why is she? How?"

Sherlock picked up Elspeth's hoodie, brandishing it at John. "Five traces, all of which we've seen before."

"Wait, is that . . . is that Ellie's blood?"

"Yes, I tested it at the lab," Sherlock said dismissively, as it was completely normal. John stared at him. "Five traces of substances – chalk, asphalt, brick dust, vegetation – and these!" Sherlock snatched a couple of the sweet wrappers from the floor and John felt completely lost, wondering if he should be able to keep up with his friend's rambling. "Don't you remember, John? Don't you see what's happening?"

"No, no I really don't," John said. "You're going to have to explain it to me."

"The last case before my death was the one with the missing children."

"Oh yeah, the ones you found in the sweet factory," John interjected.

"That was the case that ruined my reputation," Sherlock said. The young girl screaming whenever she saw Sherlock, the accusations that he had kidnapped them, Kitty Riley's articles. "Moriarty orchestrated the entire thing so it would lead to my downfall."

John nodded, beginning to catch on and work out what Sherlock was getting at. "So he's making you go back to the sweet factory to . . .?"

"Kill me. Most likely."

Nodding, John tried not to let Sherlock know how the idea got to him. John could understand. He was a father now, and he would rather die than let anyone hurt his daughter, but it was still a terrifying prospect and the thought of Sherlock dying sent a chill down his spine, especially when he considered it would be at the hands of Moriarty. If Sherlock was dead, Moriarty would've won, and who knew what would happen after that.

There were other options. Stop Sherlock from going. Let Mycroft intervene. But it wasn't just Sherlock's life in danger, John realised. Elspeth's was too, and if the bloody hoodie was an indicator of what Moriarty was willing to do, John didn't know if either of them would make it out alive.

"Don't go," John pleaded, his eyes fixed on Sherlock's. It was pointless but John was desperate. "Let me call Mycroft, he'll know what to do."

Sherlock gave John a sad half smile. "No," he said. "It has to be this way. It has to be just Moriarty and I, the way he always planned it." He took in a deep breath and pressed his lips together, looking to the side momentarily as he gathered his thoughts. "John, if anything should happen to me –"

"Nothing's going to happen to you." John didn't sound like he believed that.

"If anything should happen to me," Sherlock repeated. "I know it's a lot to ask, considering the arrival of your own daughter, but I would like you and Mary to take care of Ellie again. She's no longer a child so I can't give you legal rights but you took care of her before and I know that I wouldn't trust anyone else with her –"

"Of course we will," John interrupted, incredulous that Sherlock would even have to ask. He and Mary loved Elspeth. "But nothing is going to happen," he insisted with more conviction.

Sherlock had always admired John for many things. His sense of honour, his loyalty, his conviction, all the things that Sherlock lacked or struggled with. John Watson was his best friend and he kept Sherlock right, and for that, Sherlock would always be grateful.

There were many things Sherlock supposed he should say to John, considering it was likely to be the last time they'd see each other if Moriarty had anything to do with it. Though Sherlock was good with words, he was less so with the emotion behind them, which seemed to fuel many of John's sentences. He didn't want to come across as emotionless, even if John knew him better than that.

So Sherlock simply gave John one last smile and said, "thank you, John. Give Mary my love and . . . take care of them, won't you? Make sure they stay out of trouble."

"We both know what Ellie's like," John said with a teary grin. "She'll go out of her way to get into trouble."

Sherlock laughed and John treasured the moment. That was how he wanted to remember his friend. Laughing, smiling, happy. Not cold and grim and accepting his inevitable death.

Sherlock walked past John without another word, not wanting to drag it out for much longer. It would only hurt more then. John waited, listening to his footsteps and the sound of the door closing, and wandered to the window so he could watch his friend hail a taxi and climb in. It was so strange how readily Sherlock accepted death if it meant sparing his daughter. Sherlock Holmes truly was a good man.

Frowning, John looked around the flat. He thought back to the conversation he'd had with Mycroft.

Maybe his friend didn't have to die after all.

He remembered the sweet factory perfectly.

Dark, cold, and spacious; the perfect place to keep someone captive. Glancing up the stairs as he passed them, Sherlock supposed Moriarty would've kept Elspeth in a room in the floor above, just to add more confusion to her already addled state of mind. She'd gone without her antidepressants for a prolonged amount of time now.

His footsteps echoing, Sherlock walked further into the sweet factory. His sharp eyes swept the floor. Elspeth was here, she had to be . . .

Remembering how the children had been hidden, Sherlock crouched by some of the old machinery, looking underneath. Nothing. He moved on, checking every nook and cranny for a sign of his daughter, but it was nearly impossible in the shadows. He listened for any indications – breathing, her voice, anything. Sherlock had never felt more desperate in his life. He was certain he'd worked out Moriarty's plan but he was beginning to doubt himself.

There was a soft groan. Sherlock froze.

"Ellie?"

Another groan, followed by Elspeth's weak reply. ". . . Dad?"

"Ellie, where are you?" Sherlock asked. She was close, he could tell. Elspeth tried to reply but he sensed it was hard for her; her voice was hoarse, lacking its usual strength, and she slurred like she'd been bashed over the head. "It's alright, I'll find you. Stay with me, Ellie."

"Dad . . ." she said again. She sounded closer.

Then he saw her. She was curled up on the ground, barely moving but breathing – only just. Sherlock could tell that each breath was a strain for her and he dropped to his knees next to his daughter, relieved to see her. Elspeth was pale and sweaty, her eyes bloodshot and her lips chapped, but when she saw him, she gave him a weak grin.

"Dad," Elspeth repeated. Sherlock grinned back, letting out a long breathe he hadn't realised he was holding, and cradled her face between his hands, stroking her hair behind her ears.

"It's alright," he assured her. "I'm here now. Can you sit up?"

Elspeth nodded hesitantly, and Sherlock put one hand on the back of her head and the other around her waist so he could support her as he helped Elspeth sit up. She was far lighter than she had been before. Calm and relieved to see Sherlock, Elspeth reached out with heavy arms and clung to him, burying her face into his chest so she could inhale that musky scent that always lingered on his coat. She was trembling.

"We're going to get out of here," Sherlock told her, holding his daughter close and kissing the top of her head. He was never going to let her out of his sight again. God, he loved her so much. "Come on, we're going to stand up now."

Sherlock helped Elspeth stand as well, her hands clutching his sleeves as she stood on unsteady legs. Her eyes suddenly widened, filled with an intense fear that sent her hurtling forwards, holding Sherlock like her life depended on it.

"Dad – Dad – Moriarty –" she stammered incoherently.

"It's alright," Sherlock said. "Ellie, breathe – like this." He slowed his breathing down so Elspeth could copy it, like he'd seen John do when Elspeth was having a panic attack. She was boiling hot but shaking uncontrollably and Sherlock quickly stripped off his coat, wrapping it around his daughter. She slid her arms down the sleeves and pulled it close, letting Sherlock untuck her hair from the collar. When Elspeth was really young, Sherlock remembered, she had a bright red rain coat that she wore all the time because she loved it so much. She'd been so disappointed when she outgrew it.

Wrapping a strong arm around his daughter, Sherlock guided her towards the entrance. It was easy. Too easy. What was Moriarty up to?

"I'm sorry," Elspeth whispered. Her voice wavered and she shuffled even closer to Sherlock, practically leaning on him. "I'm so sorry." She felt pathetic and guilty that she'd dragged him into this mess, unaware of Sherlock's guilt.

"Don't be," Sherlock said. "None of this is your fault."

He continued to guide her to the entrance. They could get a taxi down the road – to the hospital, because Elspeth was displaying signs of a fever and concussion. Her pupils were unnaturally large, Sherlock had realised, and he wondered if Moriarty had anything to do with that.

It was all too easy.

The lights snapped on suddenly, both Sherlock and Elspeth blinking as their eyesight had to adjust. They should've known it wouldn't be that easy.

"Ellie, go," Sherlock said in a low voice.

". . . what?"

"Go, now." With more force than necessary, Sherlock pushed Elspeth towards the door and she stumbled, almost falling over. Before she could take another step, a sniper's laser landed directly on her and Elspeth felt herself freeze when Moriarty strolled into view, grinning so widely that she could see all his teeth.

"Sherlock, how nice to see you again," Moriarty said. "I almost thought you weren't going to turn up but – hey." He smirked. "You'd never miss the chance to complete our story once and for all, would you?"

Thank you EICochrane, LittleGee, Helena, xoxoChairGossipxoxo, Kayla, bellechat, WerewolfHybrid31, ElizabethCullen08, tardislover1, Adrillian1497, kie1993, ScissorLuv143, Deductions-of-Sherlolly, Meganstevens and Spencer Reid fan for reviewing!