Lestrade was dead. He couldn't be sure of it but he had to believe it.
Sherlock felt ill as he looked out for something, anything, to use to combat against the mad man. He fell forward and almost tripped on his own feet after Moriarty pushed him towards the edge. There had to be another way. He needed to talk to John. He needed to know if it was all true.
"This is interminable," Moriarty said as he bounded forward.
Sherlock spun around and put out his hand to stop him. "One moment."
"No more moments. Get this done."
"Why are you in such a hurry? Where is the spectacle? There's hardly anyone here."
Moriarty shook his head. "No need. Sherlock Holmes has made quick a name for himself. It won't long before they all know."
He paced the edge of the building. There wasn't much time. "How do I know that he's dead?"
"Who?"
"Lestrade."
Moriarty picked at his nail and shrugged. "Why don't you just trust me? I thought we were friends."
Sherlock held his breath. John would be here soon. He had to buy time.
"Prove it," he said. "Prove that he is dead."
Moriarty smiled. "No my dear detective. You just have to believe me."
He could hear the sirens in the distance. Moriarty knew what that meant as well as Sherlock did. It was unmistakable. There had been a crime and they both knew what had happened. His heart beat against his chest.
What had he missed? How had he let himself fall behind?
Moriarty looked up with an arched eyebrow. "Convinced?"
Sherlock bit his tongue to keep from speaking. The less he said the better.
"My men are getting quite bored," Moriarty said. "And I do have plans. Now make your way to the ground if you could."
Sherlock couldn't think about Lestrade. He couldn't think about the other two either. That was what Moriarty desperately wanted. He wanted Sherlock to be distracted and lose focus. He couldn't do either.
He moved towards Moriarty with large steps and a growl. "What if I kill you?"
Moriarty lifted his arms in surrender. "What if you did?"
"They would stand down. No orders from the commander, no further murders. Am I right?"
He had to assume that there was some sort of trigger. A text. A word. There had to be a cue. The cue could only come from the one man who knew it. It could only come from Moriarty.
There was a silence.
"Me? You think I would so reckless. Oh, stupid, stupid. I thought better of you."
He knew that he was correct.
Moriarty stood up and walked towards Sherlock. They stood in the center of the rooftop with Moriarty circling around his prey like a ravenous hunter. "Your friends will be dead, my boy. They will be gone. I will snuff them out with the snap of my finger. You can't stop me from up here."
Sherlock shook his head. "No," he said with a restrained smile. "You will be stopped."
"I don't think so, darling."
Sherlock spun to meet Moriarty's eyeline. "You will."
Moriarty didn't break eye contact as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. "Mrs. Hudson would be an excellent corpse, don't you think? Pity about the carpet. I'm sure someone could clean it."
Mrs. Hudson would not let anyone into the house that she didn't know. There was no reason to fear for her safety. That is except…
Of course.
How could he have forgotten?
The plumber.
Before they left last night she'd mentioned that she'd hired a plumber to fix a pipe. The water would be temporarily turned off, she said, so best be out in the morning.
But Moriarty wouldn't have known. There was no way to anticipate such a request.
Sherlock watched as the phone raised. They stared at each other with breathless anticipation for what the other would do next.
"Last chance."
"No," Sherlock said.
"Sad, really," he said. "Early morning…might disturb the neighbors."
The bluff had been called. Lestrade could still be alive. There could be no danger.
He watched as the phone lit up and Moriarty's fingers slowly touched the numbers.
It dialed.
He could hear the ringing through the speaker.
Sherlock looked behind him for John's cab. If only he could get a message. If only he could buy more time to think.
Moriarty lifted the phone as it clicked and was answered.
"Hello?"
He turned on the speaker.
"You should say something," he said.
Sherlock looked at him with confusion. Moriarty hadn't said a word. The phone call itself did not appear to be the trigger. It must be a phrase, a code of some sort. Sherlock kept silent as the phone was jutted closer to his mouth.
"C'mon…" he whispered. "Say goodbye."
Sherlock stepped back.
Moriarty moved forward and grabbed him by the lapel. "Now," he sneered.
What was it? What needed to be said?
Moriarty pushed him away. Sherlock tripped on his foot and stumbled back.
"Hello?" Mrs. Hudson said again.
Sherlock gained his footing as Moriarty pulled the phone back and laid it against his face.
"Morning," he said. "Hope you're well."
"Who is th—?"
A bang.
Sherlock felt his legs go numb beneath him. The blood drained from his face.
No.
He couldn't.
This time Moriarty did not hang up. He turned up the volume on the phone.
There was a shout on the other end.
A scream.
A blood-curdling scream.
He struggled to stand. This could not be. He wanted to shout. He wanted to run to her.
He couldn't contain his anger.
"Stop this," he shouted.
Moriarty laughed. "Rent might rise. New owner and all."
He couldn't control himself. Sherlock ran towards his and grabbed Moriarty by the neck. He squeezed until he felt the man's bones wrestle against his fingers.
"I will kill you."
Moriarty shook his head. "No you won't."
He squeezed harder. "Yes."
"No," he said, "you won't."
Sherlock's phone vibrated in his pocket. With his hand still wrapped around Moriarty's windpipe he checked the caller ID. He knew who it was. He felt nauseous as he saw John's name on the screen.
"Is it your pet?" Moriarty said.
He wrenched Moriarty's head to the side. The man whimpered in pain for a moment before regaining his smirk.
"He's here, isn't he?"
Sherlock could do it. He could kill him right here.
But he didn't.
John was still alive.
If Moriarty was still here, there was a chance that he could save John.
There was still a chance.