Irene hailed the first cab she saw and threw money at him forcing him to go as fast as possible. After what felt like an age, she arrived and ran into the abandoned warehouse. "Moran?! Sherlock?!" She called, sounding broken.

"We're in here, Miss Adler!" Moran called gleefully.

She ran to the sound of his voice and froze as she saw Sherlock, unconscious and bloody tied to a chair. She glared at Moran with a look of pure hatred.

"Nice of you to join us." Moran said, turning towards her. "Your boyfriend put up a good fight. My fist was stronger, however. You were right though, his cheekbones are quite sharp."

She felt sick at his words, her eyes raking over Sherlock's beautiful face. It looked broken, void of life. Not just because of what Moran had done. His face looked thinner, his cheekbones even more prominent. He looked...lifeless and she couldn't help but think that she was the cause of that. "What do you want from me, Moran?" She asked, barely audible.

"Amusement?" He said with a smile, his boss's sense of humour had rubbed off on him. "No, but in all seriousness, after you screwed me over I thought I'd do the same to you. Tell me, Miss Adler, have you ever seen anyone die?"

"Yes. I have. Many times. If you did your research on me, you'd know that. I really don't see what Jim ever saw in you. You lack the intelligence." She spat back at him, pacing a little.

"You are a firecracker aren't you?" He said, his eyes raking over her form. "Still, have you ever seen someone you love, die?"

Irene hated the way he looked at her, almost as if she was a possession. something he could own. Well he obviously did not know Irene Adler. "I've never loved anyone." She hissed.

Moran smirked and nodded to Sherlock, "Not even the great Sherlock Holmes? Your presence here states otherwise."

She shrugged. "He saved my life once, felt like I owed him."

Moran chuckled, "So then you won't mind of I did this?" He asked, holding a pistol up to Sherlock's temple, his finger flirting with the trigger.

Irene's eyes widened in fear and she held up her hands. "Alright, alright! Just, lower the gun." She pleaded.

Moran studied her, "And why should I?" He asked evilly.

"Because you're right, I love him." She murmured. "Now, please. Lower the gun."

Moran grinned, "That wasn't too hard, was it? Tell me, would you rather me shoot him or beat him to death? Your choice."

She glared at him. "You can't honestly expect me to make a decision like that."

"Oh, I don't expect it, I insure it." He replied, taking the gun off safety.

She eyed the gun in his hands with wide eyed fear but knew which death she would want. "The gun. I'd rather you used the gun" She whispered.

He nodded. "I'll give you a moment to say...'goodbye.'" He smirked before walking outside.

Irene sighed and gulped, readying herself for everything that was about to happen. She walked over to Sherlock and kneeled in front of him, she placed her hands on either side of his face. "Sherlock?" She murmured softly.

Sherlock heard a voice in the distance; her voice. He opened his eyes, groggily. "Ire-Irene?" He slurred.

She smiled softly. "Hello, dear. Seem to have gotten yourself in quite the pickle this time." She murmured, tears trailing down her face.

He smiled weakly at her comment. "Wh-why are you here?"

"I came here because I stupidly thought I could save you." She murmured. "Still, I had to try." She closed her eyes for a moment before opening them again, a watery smile on her face.

Sherlock tried to look up at her, the pain caused his head to bob and falter, however, He closed his eyes tight, his head foggy and confused.

"That was an incredibly stupid thing for you to do. Get out, now." He mumbled slowly.

"Not likely." She murmured, brushing some of the dried blood off his face. "Face it. I'm not going anywhere" She half whispered, pain echoing in her voice.

Part of Sherlock wanted to smile and thank the universe, but a larger, more dominant part refused to believe she really meant it. What she had done, no matter if she had changed her mind in the process, had been one betrayal too many. Especially after he had given himself to her so completely. No, this was another game, another plan, still, he loved her and would not allow her to risk her own life for his.

"Leave, Now It's not an option, Miss Adler." He slurred.

Irene sighed, frustration coming through even now. "Oh, and I suppose you're going to make me?" She sat down on the floor in front of him. "I told you, Mr Holmes. I am not going anywhere. Call it doing the right thing, belatedly." She murmured.

"You're going to get us both killed." He hissed between clenched teeth. "GO!"

She looked at him in disbelief and she smiled without it touching her eyes. "You really think that I'm just going to leave you to get killed? You really think I'd want to live if you weren't alive?" She spat at him.

Sherlock's face softened somewhat, her words hitting a chord he had permanently shut down upon reading those fateful texts. He swallowed adjusting his mask.

"I still cannot forgive you for what you did. This changes nothing, do you understand?" He asked, lowly.

She nodded slowly. "I do. Completely. I never expected you to forgive me. Hell, I'd never even ask." She smiled slightly. "But I promise you this, even if you can't forgive me, even if you stop caring. I never will. You're permanently etched into my heart, Sherlock Holmes."

He locked eyes with her, his eyes full. He gulped back words he no longer wanted to feel for her and looked away; self-preservation.

"What do you suggest we do?" He asked quietly.

She smiled slightly, "I don't know. For once I don't have a plan. When...when he comes back, he's going to shoot you." Her voice was full of pain, she sounded tortured.

Sherlock nodded slowly, the realisation hitting him.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye then." He began slowly. "Ironic how I was at your execution and now you'll be at mine..." He trailed off.

Irene half jumped up and wrapped her arms around him. Even if he hated her in that moment, she didn't care. She needed to feel him in her arms. Tears slid from her cheeks and into his curls as she buried her face in them.

He couldn't have held her to him even if he had wanted to...though he did want to...the ropes around his wrists were preventing him. He closed his eyes as he felt her cheek next to his, his heart swelling and breaking like the tides.

She placed a small tearful kiss on his cheek before slipping a small knife from her sleeve. "Keep hold on the ropes and act like you are still tied up." She breathed as she started to hack at the rope binding his wrists.

He nodded, "Follow my lead." He whispered, feigning unconsciousness.

She placed another kiss to his cheek before continuing to hack at the rope until it came apart. She slipped the knife back up her sleeve and stepped away from Sherlock, still tearful. There was still a large chance that he would die.

Moran stepped back into the room, catching her kiss him, "Aww, the lovebirds. Having a nice final goodbye, are we?" He mocked.

Irene glared at him. "You keep trying, Moran but you will never be him. There was only ever one Jim Moriarty and you can never replace him." She spat at him.

Moran smiled sardonically at her. "Insult me all you like, that'll only make me want to kill him more." He replied, nodding towards Sherlock's slumped figure.

"Well, as you pointed out, there's nothing I can do to stop you anyway." She moved so that she was standing next to Sherlock's chair, keeping close.

"Tell me Miss Adler, how was a woman of your stature so easily tricked by her heart? The curiosity is killing me." He asked, stepping closer.

She followed his movements with her eyes. "I blame films. Giving people unrealistic views on love." She joked sardonically. There was no way she was going to reveal her heart to him.

"Come now, you're not one to fall for such sappy portrayals. And neither is he." Moran replied sweetly.

"Small talk doesn't suit you." She hissed.

"Then I can carry on to the good bit." He replied, unlocking the gun and pointing it at Sherlock firmly.