THE END: PART 2 OF 3

Sherlock navigated his way through the sea of NYPD work desks, his destination being Captain Gregson's private office. He burst in –this being his natural way of entering the office- and immediately began to speak. "Captain, we have a problem. It's Macey. She's gone. She has been since yesterday at noon." Sherlock had to fight the lump that had formed in his throat and the sting that was present in his eyes.

Joan entered the room after Sherlock, breathing hard. It was apparent that she had run after Sherlock when he had bolted into the NYPD headquarters, leaving her behind.

Captain Gregson hadn't flinched when the consulting detective burst into the room. His gaze traveled up towards the pair of investigators. "I know." He croaked, sweat glistening his exposed skin.

Sherlock wasn't expecting that answer. "What? How do you know?"

Gregson remained seated, frozen in place. "Security…at the bank..." A bead of sweat formed on his forehead, "N-never mind…"

Joan moved so that she was near his desk. "Capt-"

"-Don't." Captain Gregson pleaded, cutting her off and stopping her in her tracks. "Don't come closer."

Sherlock knew something was seriously wrong. Sherlock observed the Captain's strange behavior as he sat, wired to his desk chair. The man was on edge, either because of nerves or impending danger. His overactive mind began making possibilities, theories, and deductions so fast that for a moment, he forgot that the situation was dire. He made a slight movement towards the man, only to be stopped by Captain Gregson's hand, held up in a gesture meaning 'stay back…or else'. "Captain?" He pressed on, hoping for an explanation.

"No…I can't…Please, Sherlock…Save yourself…" The Captain babbled.

Sherlock began to respond, but he was cut off before he could form a full sentence.

"I'd listen to him if I were you, you wouldn't want to be caught in the middle, Sherlock." A familiar voice of a woman spoke from the corner of the room.

The voice was still foreign in a sense –thinking for years that the woman was American, but he didn't need anyone to tell him who she was despite that fact. "Moriarty." Sherlock didn't even need to turn around to know it was her.

"But I'm not alone, Sherlock…Not anymore." Her tone implicated a smile.

Joan was the first to turn around to face the once vulnerable woman. "Sherlock? Turn around."

Sherlock could hear the disbelief and terror in her voice. He slowly turned around and his confidence was shaken from the sight.

Macey stood in front of Moriarty –formerly Miss Adler- a gun pointed directly at Sherlock's chest. Her stance was steady, meaning she was confident and not being pressured to do anything. Her eyes were wide with pleasure, a tell-tale sign that she was satisfied with his reaction to seeing her. "Hello, Uncle. Miss me?" An evil smirk played at her lips.

Moriarty had a gun in one hand pointed at Joan and another in the other pointed at Captain Gregson, keeping the Captain in his chair and unable to retrieve help. "You see, Sherly, Macey here has finally realized her true potential. Once a criminal, always a criminal…but this time, she's better off because she's with me." A smirk –exactly like Macey's- appeared on her lips.

Sherlock stared at Macey, dumbfounded by the sudden change in attitude. "Macey? What…why? How?"

"So many questions, but so little time, I'm afraid. Now, if you don't mind, please enlighten us with the details about the pink lady's case." Macey's sardonic smirk never left her lips.

If Sherlock was confused before, he was really confused now. "What? Why?"

"Let's just say that I'm interested." Macey's hand tremored slightly, making her grip on the gun loosen a bit.

Sherlock took in her physical response to the situation at hand. She was terrified, nervous, and excited. The danger had pumped her full of adrenaline and she was enjoying every minute of Sherlock's panic and the frightened look on Joan's face. "You're enjoying this…how can you be enjoying this?"

Macey's eyes darkened. "You should know. How did it feel to torture Sebastian Moran? Did it feel good? Did it give you satisfaction?" Macey's tone was playful, mocking even.

Sherlock frowned. "That was different. I had thought he had killed Irene. I had a reason to do so."

"And you enjoyed it. It's the same thing." Macey pointed out. Her smile turned into a scowl.

"So, what's your reason for this?" He motioned to Moriarty. "This –this partnership. What is your reason behind it?"

"Well, you should know. You said it yourself! I'm nothing but a low-life criminal!" Macey's eyes narrowed. "And don't tell me you didn't mean it. I'm just as smart as you, maybe even smarter! I saw it in your eyes as you said it. You meant it. You believed it. You know it!" She growled. "How can you think I'd just let that go? I mean, I'm used to be called a criminal, but why should I take that abuse from you? It hurt that my father agreed with the statement enough to send me to that parole house, but when you did it just for penance?! That crosses a line."

Sherlock gasped. He remembered calling what he was doing for Macey penance, but that had been just between Joan and him. How had she known? "How did you-"

"Never mind that, Sherlock. What matters now is that you tell us the details of the late Delia Strafford, aka 'The Pink Lady'." Macey's anger made her impatient –more than she had been before. Her grip on the gun tightened and her finger twitched on the trigger.

Joan watched the conversation between Macey and her uncle, knowing that Macey's anger stemmed off of his disappointment in her and what she had done. "Macey."

Macey's eyes snapped toward her gaze.

"Macey, please…put the gun down. Moriarty is messing with your emotions…" Joan pleaded. She had never seen someone so conflicted with their emotions.

Moriarty could feel Macey's discomfort with trying to keep up the evil-act toward Joan. "Macey, don't you dare put that gun down."

"I wasn't planning to." Macey replied, monotone. Her gaze ripped away from Joan, hoping that if she just ignored the woman that she would stay out of her fight with Sherlock. Macey knew that if Joan didn't stay out of it, that the consulting detective to Sherlock would pay for it with her life.

Moriarty grinned. "Good, Macey. Now, forget about the whole pink lady thing and do what I told you to do."

Macey clicked the gun off safety and glared at her uncle. "This is what you deserve, Sherlock."

"Please, Macey. No…" Sherlock began to tear up. A tear rolled down his face and he could feel his heart racing at a dangerous pace.

Joan stared in horror at the sight. "Macey…" She sobbed. "Think about what you're about to do."

Macey didn't take her eyes off of Sherlock. "I know exactly what I'm doing."

Moriarty fidgeted impatiently. "Macey, I'm waiting." She urged. "Do it. Do it now."

Macey smiled. "I am. I know exactly what I'm going to do and I know it's right. Thanks, Joan. You helped me realize that what I'm about to do it right, no matter what anyone tells me."

Joan screamed as the gun went off, hitting its target dead in the chest.

Macey had done it. She had actually done it.

Uh-oh. Macey is in trouble now! So this was the second installment of this trilogy ending! The third is already written. I will be posting that sometime this weekend or early next week!

Thanks, as always, and please FAV/FOLLOW/REVIEW!