You're not dead
Sherlock seemed to be positively seething with anger. His face was virtually unreadable, other than the unmistakeable curl of the lip which showed his rage towards the twisted man that stood across from him.
Quite like his brother, Mycroft looked annoyed, very annoyed. He was looking at Moriarty as though he was barely there, a pesky fly that could leave but remained to stay just to cause irritation. He seemed to almost pity him, as though Moriarty's madness was not an advantage, but something to condescend. But then again, to the all powerful Mycroft Holmes, I'm sure that in some respect or another, we all looked like inferior insects to him.
Greg still looked a tad confused, but he was mostly casting glances at both Moran and Moriarty. He looked over to me and caught my gaze and I'm sure I had a face that looked as confused as his own, if not more. He stepped over to me quietly, standing by my side and putting a hand on my shoulder. He squeezed it slightly. It was a gesture which made me feel a little reassured and relieved, though I knew that the situation was definitely not one for relief. Moriarty and Sherlock both seemed to snap their heads around to look at Lestrade's grip on my shoulder. The difference between their expressions was that Sherlock momentarily half-smiled, appreciating the comfort that our good friend was giving me. While, Moriarty looked like a once only-child after the arrival of a new baby that was receiving the attention, undeniably jealous.
He then looked at me, his angst and aggression directed at me, as though I shouldn't be allowing Greg to do that. As though he were my jealous boyfriend. As though I was his.
"I'm not yours." I said, with strength in my voice. Greg dropped his hand to the side in order to let me speak. "I will never be yours."
Sherlock smiled a little, which of course Moran and Moriarty caught. Positively growling, he began to speak. "You think they'll want you now? Now that you're an addict. A druggie... a cheat."
I furrowed my eyebrows at the last word, which he spat out. I was not cheat. I couldn't and wouldn't ever do that to Sherlock but then I remembered, I remembered kissing Moriarty and I remember the guilt that flooded me. Did that make me a cheat? I was playing the game. The web of deception that Moriarty had so craftily spun. "I'm no cheat." I said, my tone getting a little raised. I stepped forward a little. Everyone other than Moriarty seemed to tighten their posture, tensing up incase of violence.
"You've been on dates with me."
"One date, technically and that was tonight. A fake one."
"You groped my arse." He smiled menacingly.
"I imagined it wasn't yours."
"You kissed me."
"No, you kissed me."
His mouth drew in a line, flaring his nostrils a little. Sherlock still seemed angry and a little bit hurt, if I could interpret it right, but he wasn't angry with me. I prayed to God he wasn't angry with me.
Moran looked bored and rolled his eyes. "Can't we just get it over and done with?" He asked Moriarty, who sighed.
"Yes, yes. Alright. If you're not going to come with me yourself, I'll just have to force you." He mocked a sad face. He flicked his arm upwards and a couple of men similar to Moran came forth, running forward towards Greg and Mycroft, their fists at the ready. The music kicked back up, the Bee Gees playing yet again as the dim lighting made it harder to see.
I suddenly heard the sounds of grunting and punches being thrown about as both Mycroft and Greg were in fights with the guards, I stepped to go and help them but I was prevented by a smiling Moran who looked just as menacing as his boss. He threw a punch which sent my head reeling back. I looked back up at him, feeling rage boiling over. I caught a glance over Moran's shoulder and saw Moriarty and Sherlock talking low and face to face. Quickly I threw my fist to Moran's jaw, grabbing his blind jab and twisting it up and around his back as he turned. He kicked my shin and knocked the back of my leg, forcing it to buckle. I used my knee to buckle upwards to his bottom and near his prostate, which only made him angrier. Naturally. He twisted out of my grip and backhanded me across the cheek. I slapped both of my hands over his ears to discombobulate him as I need him in the diaphragm. He pushed my arms off of his head and pressed his grip onto my collar bone, pressing down on it. I let out a groan of anger, punching him hard in the face as I looked over at Moriarty and Sherlock again, who seemed to be shouting at each other. Everything was chaos. Everyone fighting and knocking it out of each other, throwing a quick glance back, I saw that Mycroft and Greg seemed to be handling themselves, finishing up with one pair of men only to be replaced with another. Moran was coming at me savagely, refusing to let me out of his sight. He grabbed at his side, at a piece of flesh twisting it with intense force. Moran cried out and I used my forehead to headbutt him. I released him and he staggered back. I looked over his shoulder again to see that Moriarty had a gun and there was a gap inbetween he and Sherlock now, who were talking calmly but with livid exteriors. Fear sparked through me quickly and I had to get over there. Over my dead body would something happen to Sherlock. Not again. The whole room seemed to be smothering with darkness and my whole vision seemed fixated on those two. The man pointing the gun and the man I loved. With one last hit, I punched upwards, knocking Moran's nose back and sending him hurtling to the floor with a thud.
Moriarty's finger seemed to be poised on the trigger and he appeared to have said something as he raised the gun upwards. I couldn't stop myself, it was instinct. In a few matter of seconds I catapolted myself forward, flinging myself inbetween them. I pushed Sherlock back so he landed on the floor before he could stop whatever was about to happen. Moriarty looked surprised and down at his gun as we slammed onto the floor, pressed together, the gun moved in his hand and he had already pulled the trigger as I slammed into him. The sound of a gunshot rung out through the hall and echoed, bouncing around.
I heard sounds of anger about the hall and a few more thuds. I heard footsteps racing towards me and sounds of cries. They were shouting out to me. Everything had seemed to go black but my mind was still racing, the senses of mine warping and changing. The drugs only making me more confused. I didn't know whether I had even been shot, whether I was dying or whether I was dead already. I felt no movement from underneath me other than the pouring of a sticky liquid which was wettening my shirt and the floor next to it. I felt weak and weary, sick even as though all of the chemicals of my body were screaming. I couldn't breathe. My mouth felt smothered and my lungs were inflamed from lack of oxygen. Was I leaving? Was this it?
Suddenly, I felt arms seizing me back and turning me round. The lower half of my shirt and suit dripping with blood. Somehow, I was being plunged back into light and knocked into perspective. I felt tears falling onto my face and arms around me, rocking me but no sound. I heard sounds of swearing and anger around me too. But then I opened my eyes. I opened my eyes and saw Sherlock looking down at me wide, as though he couldn't believe it, his face in agony and then washed with relief as well as sadness.
"J-John..you're not.. you're not dead." He said with a small smile, tears streaming.
I smiled as best I could, looking down at the blood and across to Moriarty, who was lying dead on the ground. I hadn't been shot. It wasn't me.
"Well now we have a firm grasp of the obvious." I joked and Sherlock snatched me up against him, hugging me tightly and burying his face in my neck as I felt my shoulder get wet with tears. I began to tear up too, smiling too as I knew that this was all over. He held me but pulled us apart so we could look at each other. He put one hand to my cheek and I moved closer.
"Don't you ever do that again. Don't you ever die on me, John. I love you so much."
I choked back the tears and rested my forehead on his, smiling at him through the tears.
"The same to you, Sherlock. Don't ever leave me. I love you too, more than anything."
We pressed our lips together, embracing each other.
It was then that I fully understood how he must've felt that day on the roof St Barts, with Moriarty. He would've died in order to protect me and keep me safe and I would never ask him to. But I would do exactly the same for him, a thousand times. But I knew that it was wrong, both of our actions were wrong.
We weren't meant to die like that. We were meant to grow old and live a life together.
AN: Well there you have it! The final chapter! Thank-you to those who have sticked through to the end. I'm unsure of some of this chapter, so depending on the feedback I may tweak it a little bit. As always, feedback would be lovely! Thank-you for reading! :)