A/N: Thanks again for the lovely reviews & follows & favourites – you spoil me.

Thanks to SassyVeeDub , Guest reviewer (hope you caught your breath!) & elmo98

Warnings – usual – you know – swearing, not a whole lot. Still playing Possession by Sarah McLachlan in my head. Cannot shake it when I think of this story. Consider this as a warning. You really should listen to it, especially during the last bit (smirk).

Chapter 6. Mastering Evil

"There are other forces at work in this world Frodo, besides the will of evil." Gandalf the Grey TFTR - movie

Same Time

They were all so stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. They thought they were figuring it out. They thought they knew why he'd sacrificed his followers that way, but they were wrong. WRONG!

And the whole time these lovely little thoughts were going through his head he was charming and smiling and being nice for fuck's sake, because honestly, despite the unbearable sweetness of the woman beside him, he did actually like her, in a way. As much as he was capable of liking anyone. She was probably the first person who had been nice to him just for niceness sake. Not because he was rich, or powerful, or because they wanted something, or because he was about to have one of his men cut their fucking throats. No she had been nice to him. Well actually to Jim Moriarty, who as far as the world was concerned was officially dead. She was also nice to this clod Dimmock whose body he happened to inhabit at the moment. He promised himself that because of that he would be gentle with her. When it came time to kill her. He would be sweet right back and he would be gentle. It's the least she deserved.

He turned and smiled at the pretty brunette sitting beside him. "I hope you don't mind, but I have to make a quick stop before we go to dinner. I promise it will be so worth it and, well," he said shyly, "It's kind of a surprise."

"Oh, of course. I...I don't mind. Oh no, what ever you want…that's fine." And she giggled a little nervously.

No. Definitely. He'd make it quick. When he killed her.

oOo

"He's going after Molly?" Lestrade looked grim and somewhat territorial. He had a fondness for the coroner. More than a fondness if he was honest with himself, although he rather thought he might not be her type and perhaps he was too old for her, but…Focus Greg.

"It makes sense. He will use her and us to complete the cross over of the goddess,"

said Sherlock.

"Unless he is planning on using her as the fourth sacrifice. Maybe he's going to use another friend instead of her," mused John.

"Well John that would work except it's not like I have many friends!" Sherlock said sarcastically.

"We need to get Mrs. Hudson somewhere safe and I wouldn't put it past him to go after Mycroft here," replied the doctor, once again ignoring his partner's ranting.

Mycroft smiled. "He can try," he said somewhat drily. He turned to his brother. "You know Sherlock I believe I can be of assistance. I was about to tell you of a visit I had last night with the god of the dead, Hades as he was known to the Greeks."

Sherlock looked witheringly at his brother, "I am not interested in the salacious and sordid details of a night time visit you might have had with a god, Mycroft. "

John looked sharply at Sherlock. He was being even more difficult than usual. John was about to pull him aside and reel him in when he noticed Mycroft expression. Seriously? Was he blushing? Okay he so did not want to know.

"Well, yes, hmmm," Mycroft cleared his throat, his blush deepening a bit. "I came to inform you that Hades visited last night with a proposition. According to him the gods are not technically suppose to interfere, but he is more than a little 'put out' with both Hecate and Moriarty. Supposedly once you are dead you are suppose to stay dead. Moriarty has broken certain rules and laws. Hecate is also guilty of interference. Now this all falls under Hades purview. He wants what is his back. And he told me exactly how to go about doing it. John, I should warn you, this might cause you some discomfort."

oOo

Molly was a little surprised when they pulled up to Baker Street. She'd been here once or twice before while Sherlock had been away dead and all. She had come to check on John, guilt motivating her. She hadn't wanted to come very often because she didn't think it would take much for John to figure out what she was keeping from him, but she had felt an obligation to look after him, both for his sake and Sherlock's.

"So, why are we here?" she asked the man sitting beside her.

"Oh I have to drop something off for Lestrade. He's visiting. Can't go into much detail because it's for a case." He smiled at her. "But I am also getting the surprise for you here. Say why don't you come up with me? You know Sherlock and John, right? I'm sure their dying to talk to you."

"Oh. Okay. I guess," even though she had mostly sorted through her feelings about the detective she still felt somewhat awkward around him. But she did like John and he had been so forgiving about her part in the conspiracy to keep Sherlock dead. So she smiled and climbed out of the car. She stood by the door, holding the young man's hand while they waited for someone to answer the ring of the bell.

oOo

The front bell rang.

"Are you expecting anyone?" asked Mycroft.

Sherlock shook his head and walked over to the window.

"Well that is unexpected. It's 'Dimmock' and Molly." Everyone could hear the quotes. "Looks like we are doing this here." He turned and looked at John, his face expressing everything.

Are you alright?

John felt mostly recovered and looked somewhat pale, but determined. He nodded slightly and winced. Headache.

I'm going to kill Mycoft!

John just grinned.

Sherlock ran down the stairs, adrenalin coursing through his veins. Here, now hopefully on the other side of the door, was the man who had caused so much anguish and grief in their lives. This time he was not going to tiptoe around showing off. This time he was going to kill the murdering bastard or at least help facilitate his death. For his sake and Molly's and Greg's and anyone else touched by his sliminess.

But mostly for John Watson.

One of the most decent people and one who had changed Sherlock in ways big and small and put up with all of his failings.

The one who loved him without conditions or limits.

Sherlock took a deep breath, plastered on a big smile and swung the door open.

"Hello Jim! I'd say good to see you, but since it isn't I'll skip the formalities. Why don't you take that big knife away from Molly's lovely throat and let her go and come on in so we can have a nice chat about how you are going to die and stay that way."

A mad, wild grin formed across Dimmock's face, which looked out of place on the handsome young man, but just as John had recognized something of Jim in Sherlock's face, so did the detective in the young DI's.

"Now Sherlock, you and I know that isn't going to happen and as for lovely Molly here," and he gave her an almost chaste kiss on her cheek, "she is so important to my plans."

Sherlock glanced at Molly trying to convey something to her, something of hope and strength. He was surprised at the resilience he saw in her eyes and a determination to not let Jim frighten her. He also saw confusion. This was turning into probably the weirdest date she been on. She was still reeling a little from the shock of her date pulling a knife on her as Sherlock came to the door and Sherlock calling him Jim.

As Jim/Dimmock stepped over the threshold a small group of people, seemingly coming out of nowhere, followed after him. They had come up behind Jim and were standing there silently. They were all young, late teens, and looked excited and anxious, almost as if they could already smell the blood in the air. Two of them had guns. Sherlock rolled his eyes. Dull, he thought.

Sherlock backed slowly up the stairs, knowing if he rushed Jim, Molly would die. At the same time he looked for an opening, hoping to get Molly out of this. She did not deserve to be caught up in this madness.

Jim and his group of teenage miscreants followed him. As Sherlock entered the flat backward he heard the other men shift and move into positions.

The four men stood there as Jim took over the flat. Quickly the three or four who were not armed got to work. The coffee table was moved out of the way and a brass brazier was set it up in the middle of the flat. Fortunately they did not start a fire underneath it, but one brought another brass container out from somewhere and removed a live coal from it and placed it inside the brazier. Then a young woman threw handfuls of herbs into it. A sweet sickly smell permeated through the flat and breathing became somewhat difficult.

As Molly's life was on the line the four men allow themselves to be bound, hands tied behind their backs. They all glance at one another, John and Sherlock's silent communication perfected between the two but through different bonds of brotherhood Greg and Mycroft were also able to contribute to the conversation. They waited for Mycroft's signal.

Jim gently led Molly over to join the others. He jerked his head in the direction of Mycroft and he was moved to one side. The others were placed in a circle across from each other all around the brazier. Jim rolled up his sleeves and looked intently at the knife he held.

"You haven't finished the opening Jim," drawls Sherlock, "You're a sacrifice short." His speaking out earned him a hard smack on the back of the head. John hissed, but sensed movement from behind him so he refrained from moving.

Jim giggled quietly. "Oh Sherlock, I see you haven't changed. You are still trying to out think me, still trying to make more out of it than what's there. Secret computer code all over again. You see three bodies and presume that there will be a fourth because of what Johnny boy remembers. Well I hate to disappoint you but there already was a fourth. And as for the sacrifices they were just for show. They were to satisfy my loyal followers. And because I could! I could have just killed three regular people off of the street and with the right words it would have achieved the same ends. But the real reason was because it was all for you Sherlock."

"You really enjoy self aggrandizement and the melodrama of divulging secrets don't you Jim." He received another cuff to the back of his head, this time hard enough to drive him to his knees. John gritted his teeth and wished Sherlock would simply shut up, but he knew he was buying time for Mycroft's signal.

Greg spoke up, "So who's the first one then?"

Jim giggled harder, "Do you know Detective Inspector, Hecate asked for you especially, because of your interference? Helping bring these two together. Your whole family was involved in remembering the details of the curse and handing it down and you were there to help break it. She wants you to see everyone die first and then you get to go very, very slowly."

This whole time Jim had circled around the group until he stood behind Greg and he whispered in his ear, but loud enough for all to hear. "You know who was the first if you think about it. It was Detective Inspector Dimmock. His death was the very first. He had to die in order to insure my existence and return to good health. It was at the same time the most painful and exquisite sensation of my life, taking a life from the inside. Crushing his soul."

He moved away from Greg and over to Molly. "And you dear, sweet Molly, you go first for this round and I promise you, for the kindness you showed me, it will be quick and painless."

Sweet, kind, caring Molly did not look so sweet and kind. In fact she did something surprising and something the men in the room thought of as being out of character. She head butted Jim. Little did they know that she had taken several self-defense classes and it was only surprise and trust that had allowed Jim to place a knife at her throat.

"I..I'm not sure what the hell this is all about, but if you really are Jim, you used me once. I won't let you do that to me again. Not willingly."

"Ooo whoo hoo, the mouse has grown some fangs, I see. Don't worry mouse. I think it's sexy. Maybe you won't get a painless death after all." He rubbed at his forehead. He moved over to John.

"John. Dear sweet John. Once again I regret that we don't have time to play. That little visit I had through Sherlock was just a taste of what we could have had." He looked thoughtfully over at Mycroft. "You know if you begged me I could substitute Chuckles over there for you and keep you around for a bit, but too bad. I've already promised you to the goddess. She is not happy with you. Well mustn't keep her waiting. The door is open. Time to let the goddess in."

Sherlock looked up from where he was kneeling, "You don't have the Sibyl here. Oh yes I see. You killed her just recently. Got tired of watching her? Wanted to finally get your hands dirty, Jim? So you are going to do the job yourself? Interesting."

Jim just smiled. He moved over to the brazier and inhaled the smoke that was rising. He started to chant something that only John understood. It sent shivers through his body. He translated in his head.

"Goddess of magic and night,

I call upon you.

Goddess of the crossroads,

I beseech you.

The door is open,

The way is clear,

Accept these sacrifices

To allow your presence

Upon the Earth."

A strange sound filled their ears, a deep groaning sound, as if the very earth itself was crying out. A slight trembling was felt which gradually increased. The people in the room realized that books were falling off the shelves. In the distance car alarms were set off and the barking of dogs could be heard. The groaning sound grew louder and everyone could feel the pressure building in their ears. John recognized the sound. The stones of the earth were crying out in agony as the ground shifted underneath the building. In the corner of the room near the bookcase a dark, malevolent presence could be felt. In the air the feeling of imminent death, the feeling a mouse has just before the hawk swoops down or the rabbit caught by a fox pressed down upon them.

Mycroft spoke for the first time since Jim had entered the room.

"Now John!"

John began his own chant, in counter point to Jim's. He was using a different rhythm of words and it was crossing over and wrapping around the words the master criminal uttered. It was almost visible, just below normal sight. The sounds of the earth crying out were gradually fading as John's voice became stronger. The malevolence from the corner grew stronger and John felt the presence focus on him. He had begun to sweat and his head pounded.

Jim span around, startled.

"NO!" he shouted, "No, no, no!" he reached out and struck John hard across the face. John fell back against the cult member behind him. The young man grabbed John's hair and pulled back, laying a knife against John's throat. A thin trickle of blood ran down from John's split lip.

"That was incredibly stupid Watson. Stupid and dangerous." His eyes were mad and murderous.

John chuckled. "Do you even know what the real role of the priests and priestesses was in the temples, Jim? It wasn't just worship. It was to keep them in their place. To prevent them from crossing over. You didn't leave the Sibyl alive long enough to find that out. And I'd forgotten it in my muddled brain, but Mycroft helped me remember. I've closed the door Jim. And you can't open it again."

oOo

Earlier

Mycroft looked at John and John looked back.

"Hades gave me something to give to you. He said you have forgotten much in the last few centuries and with the gift of Athena. He said there is a specific chant or song that you need to close the door. And I have it to give to you."

John looked at Mycroft and titled his head, "Why do I have the feeling you aren't going to just tell me?"

Mycroft grimaced softly, not looking quite as uncomfortable as John felt he probably should. For once Sherlock was slow to catch on.

"What's going on?" asked the detective.

John glanced over at his partner. "Just promise me you won't kill your brother?"

"Why would I…" And he stopped, as his eyes got wider, taking in what his brother was doing to the man he loved. A small fierce animal started growling in his chest. He was about to interrupt the two who were…snogging was the word that came to his gobsmacked brain, but Greg put up a hand and stopped the man from moving despite the fact he looked decidedly embarrassed.

For Mycroft had taken John's face in his hands and had lowered his head and kissed the doctor gently. John's face stilled and a look of wonder and then intense pain crossed his face.

The two men finally broke apart, Mycroft looked slightly apologetic and bemused. John, like he'd been hit with a plank of wood.

"My apologizes to you and to my brother John. But that," and here he flushed again, "was how the knowledge was past to me. I must say I can see what my brother likes in you." He smirked in Sherlock's direction. Sherlock was looking decidedly murderous and it was only his promise to John that prevented him from committing fratricide.

"No offense Mycroft, but I think I prefer your brother," John said, looking pale and he quietly shook his head.

Mycroft simply continued to smirk.

oOo

Present

"Now that the door is closed," said Mycroft, "here is my little gift to you, Moriarty." He closed his eyes and suddenly a cold draft blew through the room, and a different feeling of death and mortality, one that signaled rest rather than extermination entered the room. It was strangely peaceful.

In the corner near the kitchen a pale shape was appearing. A tall, rather handsome man stood. Stern and melancholy. Sad.

As his form grew more solid Jim's eyes grew bigger. The sad, handsome man looked straight at Jim and there was no pity there.

"You have taken things that did not belong to you. I cannot help those who you murdered, for their lives and bodies have ended, but there is one who I can at least give a chance to earn his body back." His eyes bore into Jim and Jim clutched his head. He fell to his knees and writhed upon the ground. A startled moan came from him and grew as the minutes past. Suddenly there was a final agonized wail and the eyes in DI Dimmock's body rolled up and he collapsed. The feeling of malevolence disappeared entirely and the ground completely stopped moving and crying out.

The god in the corner looked strangely satisfied. He then turned to the other cult members in the room. Smoke seemed to come out of their ears and they too collapsed to the floor, but unlike the body of the DI theirs were not breathing. The ropes tying the five fell to the ground.

The god then spoke, "With the death of the Sibyl, so should knowledge of this particular rite end. Hecate has been denied crossing. It would have been bad business for all had she succeeded. The Earth would have more than cried out and the piles of the dead would have mounted to the skies."

John crossed over and knelt down beside the unconscious form of Dimmock.

"He will be alright," continued Hades. "He is stronger than he looks. I brought him back and gave him the chance to earn his body back. He was willing and able to fight against the creature known as Moriarty. Moriarty in his first life might have been difficult to defeat, but in his new life he did not realize he was weakened and it made it easier to fight him. The DI will awaken with a headache and no memory of the past events."

He then frowned at John, his stare heavy, "There is one small matter, however that needs to be addressed. You should not be alive."

John stared back, not afraid. He had felt something in the pit of his stomach when he felt the god enter the room. Athena had spared his life according to Sherlock, but maybe it was not her place to do so.

A horrified "No" filled the air, as Sherlock struggled to his feet intent on standing in front of John and protecting him.

Mycroft however merely cleared his throat, "I think you will find that Athena did indeed grant him an extension. The doctor's life is not forfeit. You are simply being greedy."

The others looked at Mycroft in amazement. Mycroft glanced around. Really it was no different from dealing with many of the Ambassadors from other countries. He turned back to the god.

"Besides I would not take too kindly if you deprived my little brother of the one person who loves him as much as John does and who keeps him in line." And he looked pointedly at Hades. To the surprise of all in the room Hades looked abashed and he glided over to Mycroft. He bent and whispered something in his ear. Mycroft blushed and nodded. The god said nothing further and disappeared.

John looked from Greg to Sherlock to Molly. All except Sherlock had grins on their faces. Sherlock merely rolled his eyes, lost in trying to cover how upset he was at almost losing John once more.

A groan from the floor drew attention back to the DI. Molly quickly made her way over to the young man's side and helped him sit up.

"What the hell happened?" he asked.

The others looked toward Greg.

"Um erm, you were kidnapped by an End of the World Cult."

"What? How? What?" the DI shook his head and looked around the room wondering if everyone was pulling his leg.

Greg said quietly, "We'll explain it later. Molly, are you alright?"

Molly nodded, "Felt good to hit that arsehole," she said simply and then turned back to making sure Dimmock was okay. Only John noted the slightly pained expression on Greg's face as he looked at the two of them, but when Greg turned to face him his face was clear and John pretended he didn't see anything.

John went over to where Sherlock had struggled to his feet. He grabbed the detective's face and kissed him, the normally private man not caring for once who was looking. He then turned to Mycroft and said, "Greg might need some help explaining this one to his superiors, Mycroft." The other man stared at the doctor and then nodded.

"Umm. Sorry John, Sherlock, but we'll have to kick you out of the flat. It's one huge crime scene now."

Mycroft cleared his throat. "I do believe that since the two of you have effectively saved the world from possible annihilation, the British Government can put you up in a hotel for the next few nights."

John grinned, "Room service?"

"Of course."

"Excellent!" his grin broadened and he turned to Sherlock. "Grab your things. We are going now!"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow at his John, "Someone's a little anxious."

John sidled up to his Sherlock and whispered, "Saving the world is incredibly hot."

Sherlock's eyebrows could not go any higher, "Why are you standing here? Go pack!"

oOo

Later

"So, mmmm, what do you think," sigh, "is up between your brother and Hades?"

"John, oh god, yes, right there. John, please do not speak of my brother when you are doing what you are doing with your tongue." Sherlock gasped.

John chuckled deeply which reverberated through Sherlock. They had been together several hours, enjoying each other, pleasuring, taking, exploring. Now was mostly after play. When they had first arrived, Sherlock had barely crossed the threshold of the hotel room when John had launched himself at the taller man and had him pinned to the mattress. The next hour or so had been full of raw, emotional, extremely hot and satisfying sex. Sherlock had recognized a need in John to dominate as John held his arms above his head and had simply and completely taken the detective apart leaving him looking thoroughly debauched. Their lovemaking had been an affirmation of their still being alive and John's added need to lay claim to Sherlock, in order to wipe any remaining memories of Moriarty's possession of Sherlock out of his head and apparently out of Sherlock's body. At least judging by the way John was going at it. He couldn't seem to get enough skin-to-skin contact with the taller man.

Sherlock looked down to where John was currently laying on him and his heart filled with such longing and love. He remembered how John had first kissed him in this room, hard and passionate and he remembered back to their very first kiss, back when Sherlock hadn't realized how tied they really were to each other. John had been reluctant. Sherlock hadn't realized he had been afraid of once again activating the curse between them. But in spite of John's reluctance, that first kiss had been tender and sweet and every bit as passionate.

He then thought about their first kiss after Sherlock had returned. John had been so hurt and angry and it had taken all Sherlock had to convince him he was still alive. It had been the kiss that had done it. John had come undone in his arms and had sobbed, tears coursing down his cheeks as he kissed Sherlock. It had been weeks before they had made love. Now, now it was as if they had never been apart. They were back to their old rhythms and knowledge of one another.

Sherlock lifted John up and into his arms and wrapped his long arms and legs around the other man, intending to never let go. John laid his head on Sherlock's chest. The two men lay that way for a long time each thinking how lucky they were to have found their other half, the missing part of their soul, the person that made them whole.

John knew that wherever Sherlock went from now on he would follow. Sherlock knew wherever John went he would come after him. They both knew they would go to hell and back for the other.

In fact they had.

The End