A/N: Hi all, welcome to my entry for this year's Halloween at 221B. Hope you enjoy it!
"Sherlock, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, if I'd known, I'd never have -"
"Molly?" Sherlock cupped his mobile closer to his ear, the distant sounds of London traffic and the slight breeze both conspiring to reduce his ability to hear Molly's voice. Her panicky, apologetic voice - what had she done, why did she have to unburden herself now, when he was poised on the literal edge of the roof awaiting Moriarty and the end - or beginning - of the Long Game they'd been playing?
"Sherlock, he's got snipers, assassins, and they're going to kill John and Greg and Mrs. Hudson if you don't...I'm sorry, I tried to make him change his mind but he wouldn't no matter what I tried!"
"Molly!" he said again, more sharply this time as her words penetrated his mile-a-minute thoughts. "How do you know all this? How do you know what Moriarty has planned?"
He heard her gulp down a sob, but as always Molly came through. Pulled herself together. "Sherlock, Ji- uh, Moriarty. He's dead." She rushed on before those words had time to sink into his consciousness. "And if you don't jump off the roof and k-kill yourself, his men will kill John, Mrs. Hudson and Greg. Lestrade," she added, a helpful clarification. "I think they're watching you, watching you all. I'm sorry." She was repeating herself again, but at least now he knew why.
Of course, that begged the further question of just how the hell Molly Hooper had killed Jim Moriarty - unless she meant he'd met with some kind of accident? (That would be too much of a coincidence, he didn't believe in coincidences.) Or did she mean he'd killed himself? Impossible, he scoffed silently, the man was far too enamored of the chaos he could cause whilst living to surrender himself willingly to death.
But whether by accident or design, Moriarty was dead. He accepted the truth of it, hearing it in Molly's voice, recognizing by some mechanism he refused to identify that she wasn't under any sort of external duress. She wasn't being forced to say those words; they were the plain and simple truth.
Moriarty was dead, and John, Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson would die unless he jumped.
So be it.
"All right," he said tersely. "Good-bye, Molly." And he pressed his thumb firmly to the phone before opening a text chat to Mycroft.
Lazarus is a go.
Two minutes later, Sherlock Holmes was "dead", John Watson was a grieving, furious mess, and Molly Hooper...had vanished.
End note: Thank you to mouse9 and gettingovergreta who read this over for me. You guys rock!