"Where is she, Mr. Holmes?" A voice said from behind Sherlock. The dimly lit corridor beneath the hospital cast shadows across the man's face as Sherlock slowly turned. "The longer I have to wait, the more painful your death is going to be."
"Really?" Sherlock said, chuckling as the man drew a step closer, holding a revolver aimed at Sherlock's forehead. "I find that hard to believe."
"And you're so sure?"
"Yes."
"Why?" The man said, smiling as he lowered the gun to his side. "I think you're afraid."
"Am I?"
"Clearly."
"I think you're the one who's afraid, Mr. Novikov." Sherlock watched as the man stepped from beneath a shadow, revealing a well-worn face and dark eyes. His smile faltered.
"You're quick, Mr. Holmes," he said, tucking the gun inside his coat. He looked up at Sherlock, raising an eyebrow. "At least, that's what I've been told."
"Perhaps it's time you decided for yourself," Sherlock said, gazing back at him.
"When did you figure out that we were tracking your phone?"
"When we found Grace's dead body."
"Almost dead," Novikov said, eyeing Sherlock. "Not yet, at least."
"Creative plan. Almost worked," Sherlock said, smirking.
"You think I don't know that you're trying to distract me while Grace and your little lab friend escape?"
"Obviously," Sherlock said. "But I think what you don't know is how this is all going to end."
"Enlighten me."
"The first two explosions. You were trying to kill Grace, but she managed to avoid them. To avoid the police getting suspicious, you faked your own death."
"And why would I do that?"
"Because you couldn't bear the thought of your daughter knowing that her own father was the one who killed her," Sherlock said, stepping closer. "You got Anokhin to take the blame."
"Who would take the responsibility for someone else's murders, Mr. Holmes?" Novikov laughed, eyes glinting in the faint light.
"Someone who was threatened," Sherlock said, watching as his smile faded. "You threatened to kill Anokhin if he refused." Sherlock's lips curved with satisfaction as Novikov slowly raised his hands.
"Alright. I admit, you're an intelligent man," he said, arms above his head. His face slowly broke out into a grin as he lowered them, reaching for his gun. "But how are you going to prove it?"
"Proving one's self isn't necessary when the truth is evident."
"But it won't be," he laughed, holding the cool metal to the spot above Sherlock's ear. "Not when there's no one left to see it."
"NO!" A shout rang out from the corridor. Molly's face emerged from the shadows, her body trembling as she held a small hand gun out in front of her.
"We were just talking about you," Novikov said, grinning at Molly. "Join the party."
"Let him go."
"Not tonight." He paused, turning to Sherlock. "What, no sarcastic remark?"
"Molly, go," Sherlock said quietly, looking at Molly. "Please."
"No." Molly shook her slowly, taking a step forwards.
"Please. Please, don't do this," Sherlock said, eyes pleading. Molly continued to shake her head, glancing at Novikov.
"Not after what he's done." She stared at Novikov, hands still shaking as she gripped the gun. Sherlock bit his lip, looking down for a moment. "He's done this before, and I'm not going to let him…"
"Dammit, Molly!" Sherlock shouted, snapping his head up as he glared at her. "Leave before you get both of us killed," his voice shook as he spoke, eyes glistening. "I don't need you."
Molly's lip trembled as she took a step backwards. Novikov laughed, digging the gun harder into Sherlock's scalp.
"Perhaps if you leave, I'll forget I saw you here," Novikov said, raising an eyebrow. "For now, at least." Tears rolled down Molly's face as she turned, shoes clicking down the hallway as she slipped back into the shadows.
"I hope you still have a friend to miss you after you're gone," Novikov said, moving the gun's hammer into place. "But I doubt you do. You have quite a way with people."
"One could say the same of you."
"Maybe," he said, laughing. "But unlike you, I could care less." He moved his finger to the trigger, gripping Sherlock by his curls as he twisted the end of the barrel further into his head. "Goodbye, Mr. Holmes." The shot rang out, echoing off the concrete walls.