This is the final chapter, excluding the epilogue and then the authors note to thank you all. I hope it's ok. It doesn't do justice to what I see in my head but, it will do.
I'm sorry it took so long, my hands and arms and fingers are painfully itchy and I just got a dental splint. Joy.
The song is Now My Feet Don't Touch The Ground by Coldplay.
The train was cold, Sherlock sat alone, his carriage devoid of passengers. His knees were against his chest, one arm wrapped around them, his right hand flicking through photos on his phone. Some were of the Falls, he'd screen caputred them that morning, others were of Molly, Irene and Mycroft, John, Lestrade and Mrs Hudson. He flicked back to the one of John, then exited the app, preferring to access his music.
When he'd visited China during his travels a monk there had told him something he would never forget. 'The enemy is chaos, chaos reigns in hearts of un-peaceful people. A little chaos in our lives is good, some thrive on it, but to let it take over your entire being? If you are at peace in the heat of battle, you can overcome your foe.' Moriarty may be smart, he may even be strong, but he was chaos, he was not at peace. Far from it. Sherlock was had chaos inside too but he had a centre deep within that was calm, collected. He thrived on danger but did not wish it to take over his life. Moriarty would be deranged now, desperate perhaps, he would act not on logic but his emotions. And if Sherlock was at peace, with himself and his fate, then he could perhaps, just maybe, rid the world of James Moriarty.
Molly and Irene returned to an empty house, to silence. No questions answered. No note, no letter. Nothing.
So they thought the worst and waited.
Mycroft wondered if he had ever flown so fast in his life. The force generated by the jet made him physically sick, but he was taking no chances. Sherlock was stubborn, vulnerable and most of all, his little brother, he had to arrive before Sherlock did something he would regret and Mycroft would never forgive.
Sherlock pulled his coat closer and fixed the top button, tucking the emerald scarf beneath the fabric as he exited the train. A small carriage awaited on a little railway track for those wishing to go up to see the Falls. It was empty. Instead a note rested on the controls. Sherlock was to operate this himself. It couldn't be too hard. He could still back out of this, he was aware. But he was not willing to risk the lives of those he had spent so long protecting.
The detective closed the little red doors and stood in front of the controls and began his ascent.
John sat in his armchair, his hand trembling. A cup of steaming hot tea in the other. Another friend in danger because of his mistakes. Was he not meant to make new friends? If Normund survived, would he forgive John? Normund wasn't well, John knew that, he had PTSD just like John. Would he survive this mentally? Or had John's connection to Moriarty destroyed him forever?
Throwing the cup to the floor, watching it shatter, John tried to regain control of his emotions.
Forgive me Normund. Please. I never meant for this to happen.
His phone beeped. Moriarty was waiting, and he was impatient. Good, he could wait a little longer. The more he could inconvenience the criminal the better he felt. But unfortunately, Sherlock had reached his stop. Taking a breath he turned off the carriage's power and stepped over it's low doors. It was even colder up here. Snow covered the ground, a white mist swept through the entire area, crystals hung off the tree branches like christmas decorations. It was beautiful.
"Gorgeous isn't it?"
Sherlock didn't bother turning around as he examined what appeared to be a frozen red flower. He didn't need to, he knew that voice anywhere. It was the one that had haunted his dreams for many months.
"Yes."
"So...here we are! The place that made you famous Sherlock. Reichenbach Falls! What do you think? Beautiful isn't it?" He wandered closer to his prey, his arms behind his back, his tongue flicking as he teased the detective in a deadly, playful manner.
"Yes."
Silence.
"You cut your hair. It's nice, I like it"
Now he did turn. Moriarty was pale, with bags under his eyes that matched Sherlock's own. His hand twitched as the criminal attempted to not shiver as obviously as his enemy. He tilted his head from side to side in a familiar reptillian fashion. Sherlock made a decision, he may not feel or be himself, but he would fake it. So Moriarty would not know how deep he'd cut into his soul. So he wouldn't know he'd won back then.
"Must you continue to state the obvious?" Jim grinned.
"There's the Sherlock I remember. I began to think perhaps I'd killed him forever"
"Then you were mistaken."
They cirlced each other, one observing and deducing the other as they made paths through the wet snow. Sherlock could hear the roar of the falls behind him. Obviously not frozen. This had been a possibilty. Moriarty giggled as he watched emotions flit across the detective's face. Jim was clearly insane but it was more obvious now. He was at the end of his rope.
"It's good to see you again. It's been awhile"
"I beg to differ"
"That's it's been awhile?"
"That it is good to see you" James pouted, his tongue flicking in and out.
"Aw, well, I missed you. Last time I saw you was in that little cell! Remember? You were crying, you were so broken! It was wonderful. I hoped that would last forever but I forgot about your dear older brother."
"Your mistake"
"Well, I won't make another one." Jim stopped moving, his face smiling broadly, like a shark. Sherlock halted, standing to Jim's side, both now quite close to edge of rock that bordered the Reichenbach Falls. Sherlock smirked and nodded.
"No, you won't" Jim's eyes went wide.
"Oh, you think you can beat me?"
"I don't think, I know"
"Delusions Sherlock, delusions from a troubled mind. I chose this place. You chose the others, that was my mistake, my fault. But not this time. This time, I WIN! Your luck will have finally run out"
"You seem so sure. I'm taller, I'm stronger and judging by your face, your hands and your increasing alarming behaviour, the healthier of the two of us" Jim's eyebrows knotted, his brow furrowing. His head oscillated again.
"You won't win."
"Neither will you."
Jim sighed, flicking his tongue out again and looking up at the top of the falls. Sherlock had a sudden realisation, Moriarty had not come alone. Again, a possibility he had considered, hence the note to Mycroft who was sure to come to Switzerland with the calvary, guns blazing. Jim took a step closer to Sherlock.
"He won't shoot. He has orders. However, I knew it was a possibility that you may involve your brother and that is the only reason he is here. Though be careful, he is a little trigger happy." Moriarty shrugged off his coat, throwing it over a bolder, he'd move freer this way. Sherlock raised his eyebrows and removed his coat and scarf, resting them carefully across another rock.
"Ready?"
Sherlock nodded and Jim flew at him.
What was taking so long? It hadn't been possible to land the jet close to the falls so they'd had to land at a quiet, local railway station and wait for a special carriage to take them up to the falls. The staff had stated that two were missing and were searching for the emergency one. But it was taking far too long. Every second that passed was one second closer to his brother being in mortal danger.
Moriarty's attacks were frenzied, full of rage, fear and hatred. They were uncoordinated, desperate and ill thought out. It was if he attacked without thought, only anger. Sherlock had the advantage. He used his knowledge of the Japanese art of Bartitsu to deflect most of the chaotic punches, the weak wrestling and the violent but frantic attacks. He held onto the criminal with all his strength and will, ignoring the pain he'd received from his arch enemy. He bit his lip and attempted to sweep Jim's feet from beneath him, Jim retaliated by kneeing him in the stomach, causing him to double over.
The criminal laughed, but it sounded like an animal. He lifted Sherlock by his collar, pulling him into a standing position, his eyes briefly gazing at the tumbling white water, Sherlock's own eyes followed. Both thought the same thing. Tip the other over the edge. Their plans all along. But it wasn't so easy in practice. Jim pushed Sherlock back with both hands, into the side of the falls. Sherlock hit the rocks with a pain filled cry, sliding down into a crouched position. He wiped away the blood that flowed freely from his nose. Jim was picking up rocks from beneath their snowy cover and throwing them with all his might, at the injured detective. Sherlock managed to dodge most of them and charged at Moriarty, grappling with him, their feet occasionally slipping on the edge of the cliff face.
Neither knew how long the fight was taking. But both wanted it over. Moriarty's eyes weren't even human anymore, he was fighting like a demon. Sherlock took a deep breath, letting a soothing force flow through his body. He took another. He felt as if time was slowing down. It wasn't, that wasn't logical, it just appeared to be. He saw his chance and he took it.
Let me go boys, let me go
Screw the carriage, Mycroft thought. And he ran.
Push my boat from the highest cliff to the sea below
Mary rubbed John's shoulders, whispering soothing murmers into her lover's ears. Everything would be ok. Everyhting would be fine. It was not his fault. John held onto her hand tightly, in his other hand he held a Chinese worry ball. It had to be fine. It had to be ok.
But then why did he feel like something terrible was about to happen?
Like he was about to lose everything?
Rocks are waiting boys, rocks await
"He's kicking, he's kicking!"
Lestrade leapt up from his seat and ran over to his wife, hugging her from behind as he rested one hand on her swollen belly. He kissed her neck, her chin and then her cheek. She turned her head so she could kiss him properly. And then Greg felt it.
"I felt it! I felt him kick! Little fella's got a hell of a kick. Gonna be a football player, I guarantee it"
Anna laughed.
"I don't care what he will be as long as he is healthy"
Swoop down from the sky and catch me like a bird of prey
Sherlock held him tightly, then wrenched him to the side and off the edge. But Moriarty was not giving up that easy. If he had to go, he was taking the detective with him. He clenched his fists in Sherlock's jacket and pulled him over with him.
Now my feet won't touch the ground
Now my head won't stop
You wait a lifetime to be found
Now my feet won't touch the ground
Mycroft ran. Faster than he ever had before. Every bone and muscled ached but he persevered. The outcome of slowing down and being too late was not an option. There! He could hear the falls. He was close.
"Sherlock!"
There was no answer but Mycroft continued his ascent. It was possible he couldn't hear him over the roar of rushing water. By the time the elder Holmes reached the top he could see his brother and Jim Moriarty at war. Each in the other's arms, attempting to injure each other as much as possible and toss their opponent into the unforgiving water. Mycroft removed his gun from it's hidden holster.
He was on time. He wasn't too late.
But then he was. He watched, helplessly just out of reach, so close, yet so far away, as his sibling tumbled over into the falls, a look of shock and then determination on his face. No. No, absolutely not. Mycroft's feet rushed through the cold snow, he shivered, unprepared for the temperature. He ran to the edge, getting down on all fours.
"SHERLOCK!"
Answer me you idiot. Answer me! You're my brother, you could have still survived. Answer me!
His men arrived behind him. Mycroft's lips thinned and he stood. Business as usual. Barely.
"Search the bottom of the Falls. I'll be down in a minute"
"Yes Sir"
Panting and in dire need of catching his breath, he rested against a boulder, his eyes falling to stare at the long black coat and green scarf stuffed into one of it's pockets. He swallowed. He felt tears sting his eyes as he picked it up in his cold, shivering hands. No Sherlock. Not again. How could you do this to me again? Live Sherlock. Tell me you still live.
"Sir?"
"Yes?" He couldn't prevent the wavering in his voice.
"...We found them."
Singing now my feet won't touch the ground
Now my head won't stop
You wait a lifetime to be found
Now my feet won't touch the ground
Now my feet won't touch the ground
It wasn't meant to end this way.