John Watson stood there, astonished.
"You seem awfully quieter than usual, John. Would you mind making me some coffee? I'm famished." Sherlock rubbed his throat
Black and 2 Sugars
John remembered correctly but shook his head
"No, You're dead. I saw you fall off the roof of Saint Barts 3 years ago. I checked your pulse. I saw your body get buried 5 feet underground!" John thought he saw what looked like sadness flash in Sherlock's eyes before swiftly disappearing
"Indeed you did." Sherlock began "All of which were planned and faked." John still had a look of disbelief etched on his face
"So you were the one who sent me that text?"
"Well, of course. My goodness, John, it's only been 3 years and your deduction skills have plummeted dramatically."
"So, that's it? You text me saying you're not dead and sorry. 3 Years after your death, come to my home for a coffee and a chat?" Sherlock's face fell and was replaced with what looked like sorrow which went unnoticed by John
"I came to apologise" he said, making John laugh bitterly
"Apologise?!" he scoffed "3 years Sherlock! And you just come back?! Normal people don't work like that, Sherlock"
"John," Sherlock started "I understand-"
"Understand?!" John roared "You don't understand anything! You're a 'Sociopath' remember?" The Consulting Detective stood up slowly
"Please, allow me to explain-"
Feet moved and a fist was swung. The next thing Sherlock knew, he was on the floor clutching the left side of his face and had a bleeding split lip
"You don't need to explain anything to me" John growled while cradling his bruised knuckles. Sherlock got up and swayed on his feet before continuing
"Allow me to Explain." John swung his fist again, making Sherlock flinch and his arms fling in front of his face to protect himself.
John stopped. Sherlock never flinched. Ever.
Cautiously, Sherlock let his arms part slightly so he could see. When he saw John standing there, his arms dropped down to his sides.
"Explain" John demanded "NOW."
"3 Years ago" he began and John listened "Moriarty and I were on the roof of Saint Barts…"
**Flashback**
Sherlock Holmes and James Moriarty looked out on the roof of Saint Barts
"I can still prove that you created an entirely false identity." Sherlock said eagerly and looked to the Criminal
"Oh, just kill yourself. It's a lot less effort." Jim says, accompanied with an aspirated sigh. The Consulting Detective truned away and began pacing anxiously
"Go on. For me." Jim looks like a pouting child and his voice goes high pitched and squeaky "Pleeeeeease?" In a quick and sudden movement, Sherlck grabbed Moriarty by the collar or his jacket and with both hands, spun him around so Moriarty's teetering on the edge of the roof. Sherlock stares into his enemies face and nudges him back a further step backward. Jim looks to him with immense interest as Sherlock's breathing became quick and shorter
"You're insane." Sherlock snarls
"You're just getting that now?" he blinks
Sherlock shoves him back, holding him over the edge. The Irish man gives a whoop and gazes to his prey without fear and holds out his hands wide
"Okay, let me give you a little extra incentive." he finally says, all fun gone from his eyes
Sherlock frowned Really? he thought inwardly Considering the fact I have you hanging over a roof, I don't think you're in the position to make an incentive
Moriarty's voice becomes savage
"You friends will die if you don't" Fear began to creep into Sherlock's eyes
"John." He whispered
"Not just John." He whispered the next part "Everyone"
"Mrs Hudson" Moriarty put on a delighted smile
"Everyone"
"Lestrade"
"Three bullets; three gunmen; three victims. There's no stopping them now." Sherlock snarled and pulled Jim back up onto the roof furiously. Moriarty looks Sherlock in the eyes "Unless me people see you jump" Sherlock can't look to him so his gaze lifts past the Consulting Criminal. His breathing is heavy and his eyes are lost in utter horror
"You can have me arrested; you can torture me; you can do anything you like with me; but nothing's gonna prevent them from pulling the trigger. Your only three friends in the world will die ... unless ..." Moriarty leaves Sherlock to finish the rest
"Unless I kill myself – complete your story." Jim smiles and nods ecstatically
"You've gotta admit that's sexier." He allowed a small laugh to escape his lips
"And I die in disgrace." Sherlock's gaze is still lost
"Of course. That's the point of this." Sherlock looks down to the street below him. He sees a man sit on a bench near the bus stop, Jim notices to and his grin grows wider
"Oh, you've got an audience now. Off you pop." Moriarty rolls his neck from side to side "Go on." Sherlock steps past him and into the roof's ledge
"I told you how this ends." Sherlock's breathing becomes more laboured as he looks down to the concrete that is to catch his inevitable fall. Jim doesn't look to him
"Your death is the only thing that's gonna call off the killers. I'm certainly not gonna do it." He finally looks to the Detective eagerly. Sherlock blinks nervously
"Would you give me" he swallowed "... One moment, please; one moment of privacy?" Sherlock looks down to Jim with sad eyes "Please?" he begs
"Of course." Jim says with disappointment and moves across the roof. Sherlock takes several thin, nervous breaths and stops as his brain finally kicks into gear. His gaze finally lifts and his expression becomes like his normal self and his eyes have that usual vacant look. Slowly, a smile spreads like a crack his face and he begins to chuckle. And then the chuckle turns to delight. Moriarty hears this and whirls with fury
"What?" he snarls and Sherlock continues to laugh "What is it?" he demands angrily. Sherlock turns halfway, his smile still playing on his lips, almost playfully and mockingly.
"What did I miss?" he hops off the ledge and strides to the agitated Consulting Criminal
"You're not going to do it." He said "So the killers can be called off, so, there's a recall code or a word or a number." This time, Sherlock's the one circling Moriarty "I don't have to die," Sherlock mimickes Jim's 'sing-song' voice "If I've got you."
"Oh!" Jim laughs in delight with a hint of relief "You think you can make me stop the order? You think you can make me do that?" Sherlock doesn't stop circling his prey
"Yes. So do you."
"Sherlock, your big brother and all the King's horses couldn't make me do a thing I didn't want to."
Sherlock stops in front of Jim's face and he smirks
"Yes, but I'm not my brother, remember? I am you, prepared to do anything; prepared to burn; prepared to do what ordinary people won't do. You want me to shake hands with you in hell? I shall not disappoint you." Moriarty shakes his head slowly
"Naah." He shook his head "You talk big. Naah. You're ordinary. You're ordinary – you're on the side of the angels." Sherlock's tone became threatening
"Oh, I may be on the side of the angels, but don't think for one second that I am one of them." They both lock eyes.
"No, you're not." Jim finally says . He blinks and then closes his eyes for a few moments before opening them briefly. His talks with a new sence of insanity "I see. You're Not Ordinary. You're Me." He hisses a pleased laugh as his voice becomes higher pitched "You're me! Thank you!" He lift a hand as if he were moving to embrace the detective, but then lowers it for a handshake
"Sherlock Holmes." Both men looks down to the hand and Sherlock finds himself shaking it. Moriarty nods vigorously and his voice stays soft
"Thank you" he almost whispers "Bless you." he lowers his gaze as if he were close to tears
"As long as I'm alive, you can save your friends; you've got a way out." He continues "Well, good luck with that." He grins insanely
In one rapid movement, pulls Sherlock closer as he reaches for the gun tucked away in his waistband, he opens his mouth and pulls the trigger. Sherlock instinctively pulls back and cries out in alarm. The corpse of the Greatest Criminal there will ever be drops to the floor instantly. Sherlock looks down to it in utter horror as blood oozes across the Hospital's roof from underneath Moriarty's head. The Criminal's eyes are fixed to the sky and his smile is pulled into a final act of victory and mockery to his only enemy.
Sherlock spins away from the face; his breaths are panicked and frantic. He raises his hands to his head in horror. A million thoughts running through his head, but only one stands out.
I need to Jump.