I NOW HAVE A LAPTOP, WOO! It's a netbook and I can take it to college with me, so at break I can edit my fanfictions!

Sorry, I'm just really happy, it's so cute and small.

It was cold so Sherlock pulled his coat tighter around himself, feeling the eyes of Moriarty on him, roaming over his body with the dark look in his eyes.

"I don't like sharing," Moriarty began, his Irish accent thick with venom, "and for you to choose Johnny over me- I'm disappointed, I'm disappointed!" He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

"You said you would leave if I said it was over, you said-"

"It doesn't matter what I said." Moriarty spat, "it doesn't matter what either of us said, Sherly, because the fact is, I don't share my toys."

Sherlock averted his gaze to the other rooftops surrounding them, not wanting to see the evil in those eyes. He regretted this – everything. He regretted the day he kissed Moriarty, he regretted giving in to temptation and he regretted letting it carry on.

This was nothing but a game. Nothing but a game and he was losing.

Now here he was, facing his nemesis on the rooftop of Bart's.

He'd received a text after the kidnapping case – it had lasted a few days until Sherlock finally found the two children in an abandoned sweet factory. One of them was half dead – mercury smothered sweet wrappers, how subtle yet brilliant.

After the case, he had been accused of being behind the kidnappings, Lestrade claimed that there was a witness statement assuring the police that Sherlock was seen with two children the night before the children were discovered missing from their bedrooms.

Then, after a long twenty hours of questioning and denying any sort of contact with the children, Sherlock was released. John was waiting for him outside then proceeded to question him on what the hell are they playing at, why would you set up a crime!?

Sherlock didn't feel like speaking about it, he was tired of talking and was too exhausted to care about acceptable things to do in public, snatching a packet of cigarettes from a woman outside of a corner shop, taking one out of the packet and lighting it up with the lighter she was holding. Her expression was priceless and Sherlock would have laughed if he could have been bothered, but instead he just walked on as John apologised profusely to the woman and followed after Sherlock.

"What-"

"I don't care." Sherlock said suddenly, "I just don't care."

"Don't care about what?"

"Everything, John," Sherlock shook his head and took a drag from the cigarette, slowly breathing out the smoke afterwards, "I just want to go home."

John was silent as they walked for a few minutes before replying, "Okay," he said quietly.

Sherlock just didn't care. He had been accused of making up his own crimes, each had a witness statement and he was sure he knew who it was. Who else would it be? Who else had an excuse and who else was clever enough to cause him this much annoyance?

Moriarty.

So when he saw the main headline on the news, 'Fake detective to be revealed' and a picture of Moriarty next to it, he wasn't very surprised. He had quickly changed the channel over as John came back into the room, two teas in his hands.

Sherlock's phone had chimed later that evening, a text from Moriarty – he didn't have the number on his phone but of course he'd memorised it.

Bart's rooftop, 16 hours. Come and play.

P.s. Don't be late.

-M xxx

Sherlock had gripped the phone tighter in his fist, feeling anxiety smother him. It was an odd feeling, but he knew what it was and he hadn't felt it for a very long time. He opened a new message, hoping she would reply soon.

When she did, Sherlock grabbed his coat and shot a goodbye over his shoulder to John as he left for the morgue.

Now he was facing Moriarty after leaving a note for John, telling him he would be a Bart's and would be back later. He knew how this would be played out; he knew exactly what was going to happen. Moriarty was a criminal mastermind, but he wasn't as smart as he thought.

"So," Moriarty turned to Sherlock with a slanted grin, "instead of giving you a long speech, I'm just going to say, if I can't have you, my dear, nobody can."

"How are we going to play this out, I die and you live on, alone and craving my existence?" Sherlock watched as Moriarty circled him like a starved lion.

"No," Moriarty grimaced, "God no. You see, I can't live without you, pet. So when I pull the trigger to my own head, you're going to have to die."

"Oh, will I?" Sherlock felt the hands of realization pull him down from his cockiness when Jim smiled widely at him,

"Yes, or else Johnny-boy is going to die."

Sherlock's breath stopped, his heart leaping into his throat at those words.

'I would do anything for you.' Sherlock remembers his words to John and he looked down, breathing deeply.

Moriarty slipped the gun out from under his coat, staring at Sherlock the entire time as he placed it to his head. "You can stop all of this."

Sherlock felt panic saw through him, he could feel Moriarty's hands over him again, the feeling of Moriarty inside of him just made him want to recoil, made him want to forget. "What we had," he said after a few moments, "it wasn't anything."

He wished he could believe his own words.

The safety clicked off the gun and Moriarty's eyes grew dark. He looked down for a brief moment, Sherlock looked at his hand holding the gun – it was still.

"See you on the other side." Moriarty chuckled quietly.

Sherlock wanted to rush forward and snatch the gun from his hands, it shouldn't end like this; he wished he could say he wouldn't care if Moriarty died but he did.

So as Moriarty's bleeding corpse laid out on the top of Bart's and Sherlock looked down at the traffic below, as he heard John's voice on his phone and as he put on an act, he realised that he wouldn't be seeing John for a long time.

Longer than he would hope, but he would do anything for John.

Anything.

I really hope that wasn't ridiculously cheesy or just really stupid, I had the idea in my head and I just thought 'yes. God yes I need to make that the ending.' So I went through with it.

I thought about linking TRF with this fanfiction because, well, it was based around TRF so...you know.

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it! ~