Author's Note: More Followers, another review, AND I'm on someone's favorite author and author alert list… This is incredible. I'm so happy, espescially because I joined fanfiction – as stated before – on a whim... A week ago, I had no idea I'd even write fanfiction... And now... What I want to say, thank you all so much. I hope you'll like this chapter too...
This chapter is dedicated to my brother, who was the first person who knew about this story, because we, unlike Harry and John, always got on.
Still don't own anything and I'm always happy about more reviews... and if this makes me look greedy, well... let's just think about what I turned John into.
At first, John thinks about keeping it simple: A good case, and after Sherlock has supposedly solved it, John stepping out and revealing the truth. And then watching Sherlock's life – because, let's be honest, it's John, the good, dear army doctor who has made their flat a home, who's made sure Sherlock lives to see another day, who's made him open up, so even though they haven't known each other that long, John Watson is an important part of Sherlock Holmes's life – crumbling to pieces before his eyes.
But then he realizes...
Of course it would be fun, seeing Sherlock break in front of him, shocked, speechless, unable to comprehend what was going on, at first not believing, then wishing he could continue not to believe, the truth, maybe he'd even beg and cry. But what then? John has enjoyed the game so much, is still enjoying it (only yesterday, he got to rant about an experiment in the fridge that was carried out on the hand of a John Doe who was not a homeless man who'd died from heart failure, as the morgue-mouse believed, but had in fact been a south African hit man who'd failed to carry out John's instructions, so he'd given him a bit of his favourite poison, good old clostridium botulinum).
So why end it? He doesn't want to go back to the emptiness that was filled up by a nice murder now and then yet. He wants to keep playing. But he certainly wants Sherlock to meet Moriarty...
And then he has an idea. A wonderful, glorious, beautiful idea.
An actor. Small, unknown, sure, but good nonetheless. Someone who can portray the usual psychopath everyone, including Sherlock, expects when they think about Moriarty (and John knows Sherlock has been collecting information about Moriarty ever since Jeff told him his alias, and while he hasn't been able to find out a lot – John is that good at covering his tracks, he really is, why should he be modest – he knows enough to suspect a tiny bit of the truth. Which is still more than enough to expect your typical, sadistic, slightly boring-because-it's-so-common psychopath).
It's surprisingly easy, finding this actor. It happens when John isn't even really looking; in fact, he's just playing his role and watching crap telly why Sherlock is mumbling to himself in the kitchen about the hand (oh, how he'd squirmed when he'd felt the poison take effect, what a lovely sight it had been). After three fathers who are not really their children's fathers (which is annoyingly obvious, most of the time, you just have to look at their jeans) he switches to a children's programme, because he quite likes the simple good-versus-bad fairytale formula the shows portray (he's always had a thing for fairy tales, particularly the villains).
And then he sees him. The storyteller. Richard Brook. He tells stories (not hard to guess, really), and watching the programme, it's hard to believe his career will ever take off. But there's a certain gleam in his eyes and a certain manic quality to this slightly creepy smile of his (must be giving the children nightmares, really; John suspects he'd have enjoyed the programme quite a lot as a child, but that doesn't really say good things about Richard Brook, now, does it). He will be perfect as James Moriarty.
Of course, John doesn't show up at his house in person – he hasn't done something like this in years, except to kill, but that's not the goal here – but contacts him via his agency. He's surprisingly stupid (very good for John, less good for Richie) and believes John his little cover story about the game he's arranging for a friend who loved detective stories. Maybe the excellent payment has something to do with his eagerness to believe it.
He doesn't need to know that before the end of the day, John has had his whole life story deleted. He doesn't want Sherlock finding out who Richie is before the game's over.
Once he's found Richie, it's time to think about the case. But wait... maybe not one case. Maybe a string of cases. More moves, more fun, after all... But not usual cases, no, only cases arranged by John (naturally) who are strange and exciting... And an ultimatum. He needs an ultimatum for every single case. Now, what would scare Sherlock Holmes? Apart from failing to solve... Oh, right. Stupid of John. Failing someone, of course. The consulting detective has a heart big enough for the whole city (even though he's done a good job hiding it so far, it's just so obvious; he cares about John, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, even loves his brother, one can tell by the way he looks at them), and should he learn that his brain was the only thing that could save a human life... The perfect combination of his pride and his big, caring heart to ensure he wouldn't stop until John wants him too.
The first case he is going to let Sherlock solve is a no-brainer. Carl Powers. Where John began. The murder that put him on the right track. That made all this possible. He's a little bit sad he'll have to give up the shoes, but knowing Sherlock, he'll most likely keep them anyway, so it's not like John will never see them again.
Of course, he's always kept a list about people who'd make good innocent hostages; no crime boss who wants to be able to look at himself in the mirror should go without one of those. He chooses a woman who lived in Cornwall and has two of his men kidnap and prepare her – all they have to do is explain the rules and put the explosives on her.
After this (and after he's put the shoes in the basement flat and the letter in the strongbox in the flat opposite 221B), the only problem is how to get out of the flat in time for the explosion. Thank God Sherlock decides to put a head in the fridge and starts talking about the blog so John can act all grumpy and hurt and leave and go to Sarah's. He still hears the explosion, of course, he's not that far from Baker Street yet, but he pretends he doesn't.
To his disappointment, she only gives him the choice of the lilo or the sofa, so he chooses the sofa because he knows it'll hurt his back and his cover story will once again be proven. But he still thinks she should be a little more willing to put out, after he's saved her from a gang of Chinese smugglers.
Naturally, he storms in the flat the next day, panic written all over his face, and it's good that he does, because now Mycroft trusts him more than ever (delicious, simply delicious). Oh, so he's lost the Bruce-Partington-plans. John has known about them for months, has even looked at them now and then (he has his contacts, so why not use them, after all) and while they're good plans, he decided some time ago it wasn't worth the time or the effort. If he needs money, he can think of several possibilities to get it that would be infinitely more fun. But solving the case for Mycroft? Now, that definitely sounds worth his while. Plus, he gets to chastise Sherlock about sibling rivalry (he's entitled to it, after all, he ended his rivalry with Harry years ago).
They find the box and the envelope and the phone (he's become quite good at changing the appearance of phones). They get the message (he's always loved stories about secret societies, so why not use one of their symbols?). Sherlock immediately recognizes 221C and they find the shoes John's carefully preserved all this years.
The woman calls and does a good job at reading out her lines under stress (maybe she'd have made a good actress too). As usual, Sherlock is delighted with the case and pretends not to care. As if John even buys that for a second. He very much enjoys acting shocked about Sherlock's behaviour, though.
Then the morgue-mouse – oh, Molly's her name, Richie told him, he'd asked him to start to date her, but act gay all the time, it's incredible she hasn't caught on boy now, really – and "Jim" come in and Sherlock, to John's delight, crushes Molly's heart once more. He loves devastated expressions on people's faces. Makes his whole life worthwhile.
Sherlock has to humiliate him once again, of course, but he amuses himself with wondering how Sherlock would look if he told him right now all he knew.
Just when he thinks it can't get better (that happens a lot when Sherlock Holmes is around, maybe he should play the game a little longer?), he finds out that Carl Powers was Sherlock's first real case too. Oh the undiluted joy.
He meets with Mycroft; by this time, he knows this was a job done by an amateur, he's checked with his people, if someone tried to sell them, he'd know about it. Oh, and Mycroft would probably know about it too, the man is intelligent, after all.
He comes back to find Sherlock has identified the poison. He's impressed; he thought it'd take him longer. He's told his people to monitor the website, if course, so the woman calls immediately and because she did everything right, she gets off. Except for the mental scars. That can't be helped.
Sherlock seems to have as much fun as John, which pleases him. In his way, he's fond of the detective. If only he'd enjoy sex too.
Next message; Ian Monkford. This time, the victim, a man from London, stands in the heart of the city. More at stake; Sherlock loves this city, and John knows it.
He's quite enjoyed setting up the deal with Janus Cars, so he's a little disappointed how quickly Sherlock solves it. Maybe he shouldn't have given him the tip. It's worth it seeing Sherlock lying to Monkford's wife, though.
He asks Sherlock if it could be Moriarty who's behind all of this. Sherlock seems very happy with the idea; John could shout from the rooftops how much fun he has at that moment.
Third Message: Connie Prince. He's known Sherlock wouldn't recognize her, and in a way, he even wants the houseboy caught, because while the money had been good and he always enjoys using botox (fond memories), he quite liked her show. Of course, he does what Sherlock asks him to do and plays the idiot once again.
This time, the game gets much more fun when the old, blind woman (oh yes, make him care, care, care) starts describing Richie's voice. There's a reason he let Richie handle her: Soon, he'll realize he doesn't exist anymore, so to speak, and then, John needs to have him under his control. So he made him an accomplice. Practical and elegant at the same time.
And then 12 people are dead, and he has his best fight with Sherlock yet.
"Just so I know, do you care about that at all?"
"Would caring about them help save them?"
"No."
"Then I'll continue not to make that mistake." Oh, you've already made it, Mr. Holmes, and you continue making it. You just don't admit it to yourself.
"Don't make people into heroes John. Heroes don't exist, and if they did, I wouldn't be one of them." Oh, you are, a hero, my dear; the hero of our little fairy tale.
He must remember to tell Sherlock these two things one day. His face will be priceless.
And... Alex Woodbridge. He actually was a rather poor guy, and John would pity him, if he could, but – well... anyway, he should've stayed away from stargazing. Not healthy.
But John is nice and collects information about good old Alex, while Sherlock breaks into the gallery (oh, why isn't he allowed to see? It must be great). The fake Vermeer... he'd loved that case, more for the whole let's-show-the-professors-they-are-idiots than for the money, so it won't hurt him to let Sherlock have that.
The Golem (he's used him a few times in the past, but his method is a little too obvious fopr John's taste) almost kills Sherlock too; he will deal with him later. Nobody will ever hear from him again, that is sure.
This time he uses a child for the countdown, and Sherlock barely makes it. Oh, the joy in Sherlock's eyes when he figures it out – does he really expect that no one will see the relief behind it? Well, apparently, no one except John does. People are idiots.
Now Sherlock knows it was Moriarty, and this brings the game to a whole new level, though John is still looking for the memory stick because he promised Mycroft. Has to have been the almost brother-in-law. No other suspect there. Sherlock sees it the same way, so they go and get him.
It's cute how Sherlock tries to lie to him; of course he knows he hasn't given Mycroft the memory stick yet, his contacts tell him the panic in the office hasn't abided.
He uses Sarah as an excuse to get out of the flat and get kidnapped – since not even his own people know what he looks like, it was easy to tell them to get a certain Dr. John Watson – though he would've preferred not to get knocked out. So unrefined and dull.
He'd expected that his people would have to send Sherlock a message to come to the pool, but the consulting detective his beaten him there for once. Well, it just got easier to pretend.
Sherlock's expression when he steps out... wonderful. For a moment, he thinks he should let the bomb drop, but then he realizes he still enjoys this way too much, so he lets Richie have his fun.
Though Richie doesn't really have fun... not anymore. By this time, he's realized what's happened, and John has had one of his people explain to him that Moriarty owns him now. He'd been shocked, but right now he does as he's told. And that's all John needs. He's even started making Richie the official Moriarty face. People might want to know who they've been afraid of for all these years after all. Only John's people know that their master is still an invisible spider and not the little scared actor.
He puts on a good show too, acts according to John's script, and John enjoys it immensely. Sherlock is afraid, very, very afraid, but hides it well.
John originally planned to reveal himself before Sherlock shoots the bomb or does some other stupid and self-sacrificing thing. But he's still a little sad it's over; he almost wishes he could've played longer...
And then Irene Adler (though John doesn't know that, yet, of course) calls Richie (John must've done a better job at telling people Richie's the real deal than he realized). He must tell Richie he needs a new ringtone – really, now, that's hardly psychopath worthy – on the other hands, it fits his role...
Thank God, Richie is a master of improvisation, and John has made sure that he knows to stop the performance immediately if something unexpected happens.
"Wrong way to die."
And so the game is still on. Sherlock even makes him tea, because John looks so "shaken", and Mrs. Hudson fusses over them. Mycroft reprimands Sherlock, Lestrade and Stamford make sure they're okay, Molly tells them about Jim.
Later, he checks out Irene Adler. Interesting. Could be their next case. And it would annoy Mycroft. And, most important of all, amuse John.
Oh yes, he's happy he can play a little longer. He's got time, after all – his criminal empire pretty much runs itself by this point.
And he has a few other tricks up his sleeve.
Author's Note: well, that was definitely an important chapter... It's of course where the whole idea came from; this one moment when Sherlock thought it possible John could be Moriarty. Not that I believed it for one second – but the way it's acted always gets to me.
Hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.