Hey everyone!
This chapter was really the hardest yet, but I owe my thanks to the amazing Old Ping Hai for beta this chapter.
Enjoy! And don't forget to review ;)

Chapter 8- The End Of An Era

John POV

Another night is passing quietly in the dark dungeon. It is incredibly cold, and I am bloody thirsty. I have already given up on sleeping, with the cold and the train of thought that refuses to stop, even for a few hours.

Yet, I am grateful that so far, I haven't been bitten or humiliated much. Moriarty is really trying to save it all to the end. It has become pretty much clear that Moriarty doesn't plan to hurt me until Sherlock comes.

Well, at least physically. It was fairly obvious that he's trying to break me mentally, with all those stories about what happened and what's going to happen.

Even though my main concern is what will happen to Sherlock when he comes here, I can't stop thinking about my baby girl who was born just a few days ago. I'm a father.

It feels fantastic, but also quite horrible, because I'm not really sure that I'll ever get a chance to meet her.

When Moriarty came visit me just about an hour or so ago, I asked him about that. I requested to meet my little baby before I die. It was a perfectly reasonable request that not even a psychopath like Moriarty could easily ignore. And so, he smiled and promised me he'd bring her here when Sherlock comes.

I also asked him, what if Sherlock killed him before that. He just smiled, this crocked smile of his, and told me that my daughter is actually at St. Barts, and 'good luck with that'. It was quite a relief, though, to know that if I'm able to get out of here, I'll know where she is. But that was, unfortunately, a big "if".

I've finally managed to get some sleep, when I hear loud noises from outside the dungeon. A glimmer of hope, and (unavoidable) dread begins to grow in the pit of my stomach. I feel like I am burning from the inside out, afraid of who is expecting me outside that door.

Before I am able to figure out what am I going to do if the man behind this door is Sherlock, one of Moriarty's minions comes into the room with a bag in his hands, and pulls it over my head so I won't be able to see anything.
Definitely Sherlock, then.

After a few minutes, I hear another pair of footsteps in the room, and chains that probably serve the same purpose as they do with me.
"When the master wakes up he will deal with the both of you." I don't recognize the voice, but it isn't really hard to guess that it is one of Moriarty's minions.
The man closes the door and the deadly silence returns to the dungeon.

Even if it is Sherlock in this dungeon with me, there isn't really anything to say. I think we are both a bit overwhelmed by this situation, and even though I have been getting ready for this for the last 2 days, it isn't at all as I pictured it. But then again, maybe it's for the best, as I always get ready for the worst case scenario.

"John?" Sherlock's voice is trembling in a way I have rarely heard over the years. It is his 'completely vulnerable and exposed voice'. The one that makes my heart twitch with pain.
"I'm right here." I try to sound comforting and reassuring, but my voice is as unstable and scared as Sherlock's.
"Are you all right?"
"Yes, I know it's kind of cold, but the food is great." I earn a quiet giggle and that is really worth everything that has happened in the last couple of days.
"And Mary?" Sherlock finally asks, but by the sound of his voice you can tell that he already knows the answer. I remain silent for a couple of seconds, and Sherlock doesn't push. It is going to be the first time that I say it out loud, and it is harder than in my mind.
"Dead," I finally say and exhaled loudly; I don't even notice I have been holding my breath. Sherlock sighs and says that he's sorry; I say that so am I, and the silence goes on for what feels like at least an hour.

"Rachel is alive though."
"Who's Rachel?" he asks, probably wondering how that can be relevant right now.
"My baby girl." Sherlock is quiet for a while, but then finally asks how is that possible, so I tell him everything Jim told me; about what happened to Mary and how the baby was saved, and that she was incubated and hospitalized at Bart's.
For once, he is quiet; I can tell that he's listening carefully, really listening. Now and then he asks a few questions, showing his interest and concern as a friend, but other than that, he is really untypically quiet.

But then he asks the question I really hoped he wouldn't: "Why Rachel?"
"I don't know if you remember but she was the daughter of the victim on our first case together… I thought it was quite symbolic. You know, because she never knew her daughter, and odds are that I'll never meet mine as well."
"Don't say that. I promise you, you will meet her," Sherlock's voice begins trembling even more, and it sounds like he is trying to control himself again.

"I can't raise her by myself Sherlock; I have to work and take care of her, and I really prefer not to let some random women raise her."
"So? What do you prefer? Let her live in this mansion with Moriarty and his minions? Great idea, John. Too bad that Moriarty is going to die soon enough. Or shall we spare his life so he can raise her? I'm sure he'll be a great father." He really should cut out with the sarcasm.
"Don't be ridiculous, Sherlock, it doesn't suit you at all." We are both yelling now, releasing some steam on the only person we feel comfortable enough to do so.
"Now I'm the ridiculous one? You are giving up on your daughter and I'm the ridiculous one?!"
"Oh, for god sakes, Sherlock! I'm not giving up on Rachel! I'm just not sure how I can possibly be a good father if I have to raise her alone!"
"But you won't raise her alone!"
"With who then?!"
"With me." After all that yelling around, Sherlock's voice doesn't sound louder than a whisper. What did he just say?

"I'm… hmm..." Sherlock was mumbling, he never mumbles," I just thought that… I know it will probably be hard on you, at least at the beginning, and I want you to know that I'll be happy to help… if you need me to… I mean…"
"Thank you. I will be happy to get some help."

"Rachel, then?" he says and I can hear him smiling, despite the recent events and the whole, frankly terrifying, situation.
"Rachel," I smile back, because in this moment, in this dark and cold dungeon, there is only the comfort of the bright future as we picture it, and nothing else matters.

The relaxing, comforting silence remains until dawn.

The door to the dungeon opens noisily, and it isn't hard to guess who is on that doorstep.

"Good morning, boys, rise and shine," I hear footsteps approaching my direction, and all of sudden the bag over my head is gone and I open my eyes to see Jim, creepier than ever, and Sherlock, who seems like he has not slept for days.
"How was the little reunion? I thought you'd prefer a couple of hours alone," Jim is bouncing around the room and just increasing my already unbearable headache.

Sherlock and I are smiling bitterly, but we both know better than to speak up. Sherlock winks at me while Jim is looking at me, and it makes my smile go wider.
Jim notices of course, and he is practically glowing.
"Oh, isn't that sweet! Young love… so charming. So Sherlock, did you tell him already?" Sherlock's smile fades, and his eyes express something between- 'don't you dare' and 'I have no idea what you're talking about'.

"Oh you didn't…well, don't worry, I brought all the equipment needed," Jim pulls out of his pocket an envelope, and Sherlock goes pale as a complete contrast to the wall behind him. I can't help but be extremely confused and curious.
Jim opens the envelope, clears his throat, and begins reading the letter as dramatically as only he can.

"My dear John… yours? I really doubt that."
"Please, don't," Sherlock whispers, manages to avoid meeting my eyes for as long as possible. When I finally catch his gaze, he is looking so vulnerable, that although I am curious, I don't want to hear any of what Jim is about to say.

"Sherlock," Jim approaches him and strokes his cheek, "don't you think he deserves to know? It is, as it seems, your last day together." Jim doesn't wait for his answer, and reads the rest of the letter out loud.
Sherlock keeps his gaze on the floor, his face beginning to blush in the dim light of the small lamp.

I feel my heart racing with every word that comes out of Moriarty's mouth, shivering to my bones, and feeling so sad that this is happening like this- when Moriarty's reading this letter for his own amusement, and Sherlock and I are both chained, with no clear way of how to get out of here.

When Jim gets to the part where the letter says- 'Frankly, I would rather die than live without you,' I feel the lump in my throat and know I won't be able to hold out for long.
I am right, because when he reads out the next sentence, that says Sherlock never left me when he 'died', I start crying without any self-control.

I try, I really try to calm down, but each sentence burns my heart a bit, so when the letter is finally over, and the words "John Watson, I love you," echo in the room, my knees are shaking, and I collapse on the floor

Jim says something, but I can't hear him. I can't hear anything. Just the words "I love you," that I knew were basically said by Sherlock in that goddamn letter. The only thing that brings me back to reality is Sherlock's voice. That still sounds like he is on the edge of a breakdown.
"John?" I sigh heavily and raise my head, the two men in the room watching me carefully. The one with an extremely satisfied look on his face, and the other with a worried expression.

I am still crying, but more calmly now, trying to take in everything that was said on the letter. A sudden joy begins spreading in my body, when I understand that Sherlock feels the same way about me as I feel about him. It is highly unexpected. I didn't think it could happen even in my wildest dreams.

I can't say it though, I can't tell him that I love him in front of Moriarty. There must be a way out of here, and if we make it, I will tell him that every day. It is a goddamn promise.

When I feel I am calm enough I start to stand back up, but Moriarty sees his chance and kicks me in the stomach, so I collapse back to the floor.
He kicks me again several times. I ignore the pain as much as I can, trying to focus. I refuse to make a sound, to satisfy Moriarty with the knowledge that I'm in pain, so he just kick harder.
I hear Sherlock's voice again, but ignore it as he yells. I repeat in my head the fact that Sherlock loves me, and that's enough to keep me strong and stubborn at the moment.

I am pretty sure that by now I have a few broken ribs, massive internal bleeding, and I am probably going into shock judging by the rate of my heart. That isn't a good sign at all. I know that if I'm going into shock I will die very soon, and pass out even sooner.

I turn to face Sherlock who is crying, and yelling and struggling in his chains, but I refuse to hear it. I just look at him, and when I am sure he is looking back at me, I whisper that I love him, too.
I am sure he understands so I close my eyes and ignore the pain, as the kicks aren't stopping.

Suddenly, the kicks do stop. There is a lot of noise, but I refuse to actually listen. There is another voice in the room now; it is quiet and even, totally in control. It doesn't take me long to know that the voice's owner is Mycroft Holmes.
I think it must be the first time in my life that I am so glad to hear his voice. There is shouting, and when I manage to open my eyes, I see Mycroft pointing a gun at Moriarty, and Moriarty is pointing a gun toward Sherlock.

This cannot be good.

There are two shots simultaneously, and I feel my heart twitching with fear. Sherlock and Moriarty collapse on the cold floor, both of them surrounded with their own blood. None of them move, and Mycroft just stands there with his eyes open wide. He goes toward Moriarty and fires another bullet right to his head.

Finally.

Mycroft yells again and many people enter the room, wearing uniforms, so they must be paramedics.
One of them approaches Sherlock, and the second one approaches me. He is asking too many questions and I find myself unable to speak. I want to answer that young boy, really, but nothing comes out.
Instead, I hear myself asking him if Sherlock is still alive. He says that he doesn't know just yet what happened to the other casualty, but he will inform me the second he finds out. Stupid git, is it too much to ask to go to the other corner of the room and find out?

I start going into shock, and I already am half passed out when the young paramedic and Mycroft lift me to the stretcher and take me out of the dungeon.

Mycroft smiles broadly, and I take it as a good sign that Sherlock is still very much alive. I close my eyes and let myself calm down while my body is doing exactly the opposite.

There is a good chance that I won't survive this, but if I do, I know that my future is waiting just for me, and it includes the two people in the world that I care most about- Sherlock and Rachel.