The Silent Game

The Silent End

Rose woke up, several facts sticking in her brain. She didn't like any of them.

The first fact she registered was a quiet humming in her ear, though upon opening her eyes, she found that she was alone, propped up against the back of what appeared to be a changing room stall, the sort you would find in a public swimming pool, complete with little drain.

She noticed two things then and didn't know which to consider first. One was the large and bulky jacket attached to her torso, tell tale wires visible when she looked down the little gap just under her chin. The other little thing she had noticed was a pressure in her left ear - the source of the humming.

As soon as she moved, pressing a hand to the cold tiled floor to get up, the humming stopped and in reaction, Rose froze.

"You will listen and you will only do what I say you are to do." A voice said, unusual accent ringing out, the voice eerily familiar. "Get up."

She pushed herself up, eyes scanning through all she could see of the area out side of the open door.

"Very good." The voice praised, condescending manner painfully obvious to the young woman. "Now, I want to play my little game; I get ever so bored…"

Keeping her voice level, Rose spoke clearly. "And if I don't want to play?"

A chuckle just sounded from the ear piece. "Ooh, a feisty one."

Suddenly a gun shot sounded and the wall just behind Rose's head exploded into a cloud of plaster dust and tiny shards of tile. The young woman turned her head away sharply, pony tail whipping around, but she didn't throw herself to the floor, knowing that if she did, they may just shoot her - if only by accident.

"I really would hate to put a bullet in your pretty little head." The voice drawled. Rose swallowed her growing fear and nodded, closing her eyes in surrender, knowing she had no choice. "Good girl. Now, when I tell you to do something, you do it. Nod if you understand."

Rose took a deep breath and held her head up to it's usual height and nodded. It was all she could do.

Sherlock walked forward, his own footfalls sounding out against the moving water of the swimming pool. The large room was dark enough to provide shadows, even though the pool itself was light up, the half a dozen lights on the ceiling proving a bit more illumination to the spacious room. Eyes scanning everywhere, Sherlock looked around the room. Seeing no-one in the open, he did a slow spin, taking in all the shadows behind him as well.

"Bought you a little getting-to-know-you present." He said clearly, turning back to the pool, holding up the memory pen so it was level with his face. Still looking around, he carried on. "That's what it's all been for, hasn't it? All your little puzzles, making me dance." A little frustration leaked into his tone now; he didn't like to be manipulated, not my anyone. "All to distract me from this."

Hearing a metal door open, the hinges screeching from disuse, Sherlock turned to see who it was.

The silhouette moved from one of the changing room cubicles and out into the light. What he saw made his eyes widen ever so slightly in surprise. Whatever he had been expecting, this had not been it.

"Evening." Said Rose, voice calm as could be, eyes as guarded as usual. Her hands were in the pockets of the bulky coat she wore, though Sherlock didn't take much notice of this little fact - it was irrelevant for know. His mind was spinning for an explanation, a reason, a how. "This is a turn-up, isn't it Sherlock?"

"Rose!" He finally managed to spit out quietly. "What the hell…?

"Bet you never saw this coming." Rose said, but Sherlock now saw a little more than he first had; the speech pattern wasn't hers, the words were forced, there was no meaning behind the words. He frowned at the information.

Rose saw the change in his eyes and was glad of it. She didn't want Sherlock to think it was her.

Sherlock saw her hands come out of the coat pockets - a coat that she didn't even own - and open the jacket. It revealed several blocks of Semtex, all connected with wires. A red laser pointer appeared from nowhere, showing them that the bomb could be set off at a seconds notice.

"What….would you like me to make her say…next?" Rose asked Sherlock, the words now obviously not her own. As she spoke, Sherlock took several steps forward, eyes and head darting around to find the voice that was speaking through his flatmate. "Gottle o' gear, gottle o' gear, gottle o' gear."

"Stop it." Sherlock demanded quietly.

"Nice touch, this. The pool, where little Carl died." Rose said. "I stopped him. I can stop Rose Spencer, too." She let out a short and slightly ragged breath at this point before pulling another in, knowing the consequences of not doing so. "Stop her heart."

"Who are you?" Sherlock said loudly, now standing just over a metre away from Rose, still looking about the shadows.

Another door opened then, a voice ringing out through the room. "I gave you my number." Rose's eyes widened at the sound, the voice that matched the one from her ear. "I thought you might call."

Sherlock saw the figure of a slightly familiar man walk slowly around the pool. "Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?" He asked as he walked, clam as could be.

Sherlock pulled the gun out of his pocket, aiming it at the slowly moving man. "Both." Was the casual remark he replied with, making Rose almost roll her eyes at the way the acted together.

"Jim Moriarty." The man introduced himself. "Hi." Sherlock took a better look at the man then, recognising him from somewhere. "Jim? Jim from the hospital?" He mocked, seeing Sherlock try to place him somewhere. "Oh. Did I really make that much of a fleeting impression? But then, I suppose, that was rather the point." Sherlock looked away from Jim for a second, looking to Rose who seemed to be piecing together a puzzle. Jim caught the movement though. "Don't be silly. Someone else is holding the rifle. I don't like getting my hands dirty.

"I've given you a glimpse, Sherlock, just a teensy glimpse of what I've got going on out there in the big, bad world." Jim started to tell them. "I'm a specialist, you see. Like you."

Sherlock held the gun steady. "Dear Jim… Please will you fix it for me, to get rid of my lover's nasty sister? Dear Jim, please will you fix it for me to disappear to South America?"

"Just so." Jim stated, his tone prideful.

"Consulting Criminal." Sherlock said, an air of awe in his voice. "Brilliant."

"Isn't it?" Jim said, looking really pleased with himself for his choice of job. "No-one ever gets to me. And no-one ever will."

Sherlock cocked the gun. "I did."

"You've come the closest." Moriarty corrected. "Now you're in my way."

"Thank you." Sherlock replied.

"Didn't mean it as a compliment." Moriarty retorted.

"Yes, you did." Sherlock replied.

"Yeah, okay, I did." Jim admitted, shrugging. "But the flirting over, Sherlock. Daddy's had enough now." He said, his voice a sing song tone that was just plain creepy, if nothing else. "I've shown you what I can do. I cut loose all those people, all those little problems, ever thirty million quid, just to get you to come out and play. So take this as a friendly warning…my dear. Back off.

"Although I have loved this, this little game of ours. Playing Jim from IT. Playing gay. You didn't even notice. Even Rosie here noticed something wasn't quite right, didn't you, my dear?" He said, running a hand down her arm. She didn't flinch or move a muscle, just let him get on with whatever point the was trying to prove. He just chuckled at her before looking back up to Sherlock. "Did you like the little touch with the underwear?"

"People have died." Sherlock told him.

"That's what people do!" Jim shouted, the sound echoing around the spacious room, folding back on them. Rose flinched at this.

A second passed with both men glaring at each other, though you wouldn't see the glare in either of their faces. Sherlock broke the silence first. "I will stop you."

"No, you wont." Was the casual reply he got.

Sherlock ignored him, looking to Rose instead. "You alright?"

Rose did nothing though, remembering Jim's words.

However, Jim leaned in close and whispered in her ear. "You can talk now Rosie, my dear."

She just turned to look at him. "You bastard." She got a smirk for her troubles.

Taking her words to mean she was actually okay, Sherlock intervened. "Take it." He said, holding up the memory stick. Two sets of eyes darted to it.

"Mm? Oh…" Moriarty started, turning away from the young woman who's eyes were burning with emotions that Sherlock couldn't quite read. "…that? The missile plans." Jim took the pen drive off of Sherlock and brought it up to his lips. "Boring! I could have got them anywhere." With that he threw the little stick into the pool.

Seconds after he did so, Rose ran forward and threw one arm around Moriarty's neck, the other pinning one of the man's arms behind his back. "Sherlock, run!" She shouted.

Sherlock himself felt his eyes widen even more at the proposition she was making, the situation she was putting herself in. She was willing to die. For him. He couldn't comprehend it.

All through the men's banter back and forth, she had been thinking. She was the one with the bomb strapped to her, not Sherlock. He could still get out of this alive - for her, it was less likely. And if there was one thing she was always sure about it was that she would never go down without a fight.

Jim laughed though, smiling through the pain in his arm, eyes wide with excitement. "Good! Very good."

Rose held strong though. "If your sniper pulls that trigger, Jim, then we both go boom."

Moriarty looked at Sherlock though. "Isn't she just a little fire cracker? I can see why you like having her around. The good doctor is good, but maybe a little…too good!" Rose jerked her arm to shake Jim violently - she didn't like that he even knew John's existence, let alone that he would call the doctor too good. "But then, people do get sentimental about their pets. They're so touchingly loyal. But oops!" He screeched, his tone changing suddenly again. "You've rather shown your hand there, Miss Spencer."

As he spoke, a single red laser dot sped across the room, coming to rest on Sherlock's forehead, the young woman's eyes widening at the sight, grip loosening slightly. Sherlock saw the change and knew what had happened.

Rose let go of Jim, taking two steps backwards and holding up her hands in surrender once more.

"Gotcha!" Moriarty bragged before straightening his suit, pulling at the collar slightly. "Westwood." He gave Sherlock an obvious look before becoming a little more serious again. "Do you know what happens if you don't leave me alone, Sherlock? To you?"

Sherlock answered in a familiar tone, one that said he was bored and that the answer was blindingly obvious. "Oh, let me guess. I get killed."

"Kill you?" Jim questioned, giving Sherlock a questioning look. "No, don't be obvious. I mean, I'm going to kill you anyway, some day. I don't want to rush it though. I'm saving it up for something special. No, no, no, no, no. If you don't stop prying, I'll burn you." Somehow, Jim's words were worse than what Rose expected to hear, but it was Sherlock that saw the hateful fire in the shorter man's eyes. "I'll burn the heart out of you."

"I have been reliably informed that I don't have one." Sherlock replied calmly, voice not faltering even in the slightest. Rose frowned inwardly - she knew Sherlock had a heart, it was just very, very well hidden, protected beyond imagination.

Jim just smirked though. "But we both know that's not quite true."

A silent moment passed between the two men. One where they both knew that the other was the biggest threat they had faced yet; and one would loose the game.

The moment was broken my Jim shrugging and pulling a face. "Well, I'd better be off." He said, looking around, from Sherlock to Rose and back again. "So nice to have had a proper chat."

Sherlock inched forward a little though. "What if I was to shoot you now? Right now?"

"Well then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face." He pulled an over exaggerated surprised face, mouth as open as it would go, eyes the same, before smiling slightly. "Because I'd be surprised, Sherlock. Really, I would. And just a teensy bit…disappointed. And of course you wouldn't be able to cherish it for very long." He turned away from Sherlock, walking over to the stalls Rose had come out of. "Ciao, Sherlock Holmes."

Sherlock kept the gun trained on him, stepping forward to make sure he had left. "Catch you…later."

"No, you wont!" Came the childish reply before the door closed, leaving Sherlock and Rose alone in the darkened swimming pool.

Sherlock looked to Rose for a second before dropping the gun to the floor and moving over to her, starting to undo the coat/bomb attached to her. "Alright?" Getting no reply and finding himself very impatient, Sherlock asked again. "Are you alright?"

Rose brought her head down from looking at the ceiling in relief to see Sherlock moving quickly, already standing up straight again. "Yeah, I'm fine." Sherlock didn't slow his movements though and started to pull the coat off her arms. "Sherlock, I'm fine." She said more forcefully, but he didn't listen. "Sherlock…" Giving another tug on the coat, he almost threw her of balance. He slid the coat across the floor as she shouted at him, "Sherlock!"

The man seemed to get another idea as Rose stood there, trying to get her thoughts in order. She needed to figure out what to do next, but her brain was going a little slow. Sherlock, however, wasn't. He was grabbing the gun off the floor again, speeding through the cubicles where Jim had walked out, checking them to make sure that the consulting criminal was really gone.

As Sherlock came out of the stalls, he saw Rose had gone to lean up against one of the wall of the stalls, breathing heavily as she did so. He started to pace, scratching his head with the barrel of the gun as he did so.

Rose looked up to him then, once again noting his more than slightly frantic state. "Are you okay, Sherlock?"

He looked up then, looking at her, then eyes darting around once more. "Me? Yeah, fine. I'm fine. Fine."

"Right…" She replied disbelievingly. "Well, just relax a little, will you?"

He ignored her though and continued to pace. Turning back to her, he waved the gun about absently. "That, er…thing that you…that you did, that, um… you offered to do… that was, um… good." He finished lamely, but Rose knew he wasn't any good at this sort of thing and emotions were hardly her strong point either.

Deciding that a change of subject might make him ease up a bit as well as avoid an awkward conversation, she smiled to him before saying, "Well, I'm glad no-one saw that."

"Mm?" He hummed in question, though he didn't try to figure out what she was talking about; he had enough to think about at that moment.

"You. Ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool." She smirked slightly, patting her pockets to try to find a lighter and her cigarettes, frowning slightly as she found none. "People might talk."

"People do little else." Sherlock replied. He looked down to her then, mind relaxing slightly now that the danger had somewhat passed. He threw a smile down to her which she returned.

Shaking her head Rose let out a slight laugh of relief, looking down, about to push herself off the wall, though what she saw made her eyes widen once more, the laughter catching in her throat - a small red laser dot had reappeared, dancing over her chest. Looking up she saw several more on Sherlock, whose eyes had also widened at the sight of the small spots of light.

"Oh, shi-" But Rose's expletive was cut off by a squeaky door and a shout of fake apologies.

"Terribly sorry! But I'm so changeable." Jim was back, Sherlock turning his back to the changeable man. "It is a weakness with me, but to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness. You can't be allowed to continue." Rose's head snapped up at that, the situation hitting her once again, heart beat picking up once more at the possibility of death. "You just can't. I would try to convince you, but everything I have to say has already crossed your mind."

Sherlock looked sideways to Rose, who, in turn, looked back to him. She swallowed slightly, closed her ever so slightly gaping mouth and nodded to him.

He saw the nod, but it was her eyes that told him all he needed to know; she trusted him. There was so much in those dark blue eyes that he would never figure out, never understand, no matter how hard he tried. There would always be secrets in those eyes; emotions, messages, thoughts and feelings, opinions and so much more. They were always guarded but now he could see that little bit more - she trusted him, trusted him completely.

He gave her the smallest of smiles, a sight that flickered so briefly over his features that Rose thought she may have imagined it, but she didn't pay much attention to the idea - there was something far more important and attention requiring happening in that moment.

Turning to the expensively dressed man, Sherlock raised the gun, the slightest of tremors in his hand at the high possibility of what was going to happen next. "And possibly my answer has crossed yours."

Rose's breath hitched as she watched the raised gun lower slightly, a new target in it's sights; the coat/bomb that sat on the floor, just feet in front of Moriarty.

She lowered her head, trying not to think of her parents and brothers, only focusing on the fact that John was nowhere near all of this mess.

Sherlock saw Rose's head drop out of the corner of his eye, her own eyes shutting but he kept his main gaze focused on those of the other man. The expression Jim gave him told him that the consulting criminal didn't believe Sherlock would pull the trigger. Sherlock's expression told Jim that he was wrong; he could do it and he would.

He had to.

He threw Moriarty one last venomous glare, eyes squinting in pure, burning hatred - and he'd never admit it to any person, but fear - as he focused on the muscles in his trigger finger, forcing them to work, pulling the trigger back.