The address led her to an old abandoned building. She took a deep breath and pushed the heavy door in order to enter. She wandered around the building for a while, trying to find the right place. It was grey, everything about it was grey – the walls, the ceiling, the floor – and it felt like the worse place to die. Not that there was a good place to die.
She entered the right room at last. Three men waited there for her. Two strangers carrying guns, and the man she came here to save.
"Mycroft." she whispered in astonishment and pain, as she realized his suspicions were correct. This was a trap indeed.
Mycroft Holmes's look changed when she said his name. From a stern, immune look, to a softer one. His eyes reflected his feelings, like they always did when they were together. Only now she recognized how different was Mycroft's behaviour to other people from his behaviour towards her.
"He isn't supposed to be here. You said, that if I come here, you won't." she hissed.
"Oh, honey," said the man she used to love, "I've never said that. You see, I said that if you don't come, I will. I never said what'll happen if you do."
He smiled smugly at her agitated expression. Oh, she was so utterly ordinary. But as much as he hated ordinary people, playing with their lives was always fun. Playing with extraordinary people – that was the best game there is.
He turned to the extraordinary man in the room, which now looked completely ordinary. Yes, he had found his weak spot. His original plan was to use his job to destroy him, but this was much better.
"Do you want to go to her?" he asked teasingly, and the man glared at him. Nonetheless, the answer to his question was clearly a 'yes'. "Go ahead, then. Go to her."
Mycroft's furious gaze drifted to the woman standing in front of him, further than he'd like her to. He paced slowly towards her, trying to be as careful as possible.
After he managed to make only four steps towards her, the men that were standing behind him moved quickly and placed themselves behind her instead. The message was clear – I'm not threatening your life, I'm threatening hers. Emma's expression changed as she realized it as well. Mycroft froze, afraid that if he'll move, they'll hurt her.
Ian Thompson laughed loudly, obviously enjoying the situation.
"Oh, this is marvelous! The great Mycroft Holmes, the iceman, has truly fallen for a woman!" he laughed again.
"It's a shame, Mr. Holmes. I thought you were slightly different. Turns out I was wrong. You are just like everybody else." he spoke as he walked closer and closer to the paralyzed man. "Sentiment is a chemical defect found on the losing side. Oh, I do miss your little brother. You see, he was different. But in the end, sentiment was what killed him. You two are much more alike than you think, Mr. Holmes. You both pretend to be strong and cold-blooded. You both think people are pests, except for one special pet you keep next to you to keep you entertained. But then, people get so sentimental about their pets."
He was centimeters away from Mycroft's face now, and he could feel his breathes on his skin as he spoke.
"Let her go. This is between you and me. Let her leave and I'll do whatever you ask me to do." Mycroft said quietly, trying his best not to sound helpless.
"You'll do whatever I ask you to right now!" he exclaimed happily.
Without any warning, he slapped Mycroft. His hands clenched into fists, but he remained frozen. He couldn't compromise Emma's safety. He heard her gasp as the sound of the hit echoed in the room, but she didn't move as well. Moriarty laughed cheerily.
"Caring is not an advantage, Mycroft Holmes. I thought you knew it. Sherlock would be very disappointed. But don't worry, you'll see him soon."
His eyes were focused on Jim's, and for the first time he felt the consequences of his feelings. He was such a fool, to fall in love. And from all girls, he chose the most complicated and perhaps dangerous one. He was such an idiot.
But as his eyes moved to meet Emma's over Moriarty's shoulder, he couldn't be less sorry for his stupidity. When he looked at her, he didn't regret his actions. He didn't regret getting closer to her, he didn't regret falling in love with her, and he most certainly didn't regret sleeping with her. The only thing he regretted was that their time together, their little paradise, had to be so short. Whatever happens, they won't walk out of this room together. His rivalry with Moriarty won't allow him to let them walk out of here safe and sound.
"I love you." she said voicelessly.
Mycroft knew that love is chemical, that it is caused by hormones secreted from his brain, but it was his heart that started beating faster as she said those words, and his heart that hurt as he realized the first time she said those words might also be the last.
He knew that Moriarty is still there, watching, testing him. But at the moment, he couldn't care less.
"I love you too." he answered voicelessly back.
Moriarty put his hand on his chest and gasped theatrically, pretending to be touched, as if Mycroft was talking to him. Then, he turned and looked at Emma, who was weeping silently, and sulked sarcastically.
"And I thought you said you loved me." he said as if he was about to cry, but then he turn serious again. "Alright, I'm tired of playing games. It's not fun to play against someone who doesn't even try to win."
He walked away from Mycroft, and disappeared from his field of vision. Nonetheless, his gaze didn't move from Emma. He knew it was already too late to fight – so the least he could do was to use every single moment they had together. Emma did the same.
Suddenly, she breathed in sharply, clearly frightened. He heard Moriarty walking back to him.
"I've brought you a present." he whispered in the helpless man's ear.
Mycroft reluctantly looked at him. His hand, that was now held in front of him, held a gun. But of course it wasn't any gun. It was his personal gun, the one he kept in his office, in case he'll ever need it.
"Although shooting you is very tempting, I suppose that wasn't your purpose." he muttered.
Jim laughed humourlessly.
"No, this gun isn't for me."
"If you want me to kill myself, you should ask one of your little minions to shoot me, because I won't do it."
Moriarty remained silent and simply looked at him meaningfully.
As he realized, his eyes widened with true fear and terror.
"No. Never." he said coldly, trying to remain as calm as possible, even though he knew it was too late to make a tough impression.
"What's going on?" the woman with the partly American accent asked worriedly, as she failed to understand the situation.
"You see, darling, your lovely boyfriend is going to kill you in a few moments!" the consulting criminal exclaimed joyfully.
"What's the alternative?"
"Well, if you'll refuse to kill her, I'll take care of it." the consulting criminal said with a malicious smile. The meaning was clear – a very slow and painful death.
"Give me the gun." Mycroft's voice broke, and Jim Moriarty's smile grew even bigger.
"No, don't do this. Mycroft, please don't." she cried. Not because she was afraid of dying, she had accepted that fact a long time ago. The only thing she feared was what killing her would do to Mycroft.
"I can't let him torture you." he answered, as emotionlessly as he could, given the blizzard of thoughts that was going on in his head. A rain of pain washed away every hope, winds of fear blew away every courage he had left, and snow of loss covered every happiness.
"I'd rather suffer than make you suffer." she begged once more, hoping he would change his mind. She didn't fear the pain she would feel. She'd do anything to keep him as safe and as happy as possible. Why did it take her so long to realize that?
Mycroft cocked the pistol slowly.
"What happens if my shot doesn't kill her?" he asked without removing his gaze from the pistol.
"Then I will."
Mycroft nodded heavily. There was nothing else to do. He had let Jim Moriarty have an advantage over him, he had developed a pressure point.
He pointed the gun at her, trying to think as objectively as possible. As he saw her sobs, he felt a large aching lump in his throat.
"I love you." he said, this time aloud. He needed to say it one more time, before he won't be able to say it anymore.
"I love you too." she wanted to protest, to try and convince him not to do it, not to contaminate his conscience, but she didn't. She wanted this to be her last words to him. Her last words to the world.
A shot was fired.
Emma Carlton fell immediately down to the floor, lying still on it.
A single wound in her forehead was the only evidence to her death, except for her wide open eyes, that were now cold and vacant.
Mycroft Holmes dropped the gun on the floor. The only thing he wanted at that moment was to be there instead of her. To save her. To see her smile again, to hear her voice, her laughter. To feel her soft lips on his, her warm breath on his cheek. He wanted so much more. So much more that he could never have.
"Well, it's been a pleasure, but I've got to go now." Jim Moriarty called as he and his men walked towards the exit.
Everything was quiet, all but their footsteps.
They left the room.
As Mycroft finally let a single tear run down his cheek, and another one right after it, he heard Moriarty's voice.
"Tell your brother I expect to see him at the funeral."
Mycroft Holmes, the iceman, fell on his knees and started sobbing.