NOTE: Welcome to the final act! No not really, the story will continue, of course! I´m really excited now, finally! This is like I said earlier the way I had it in mind in the first place, so I hope you enjoy it! Next chapter is almost ready Oh and I realized I made a mistake in chapter 18, the time-line is incorrect, I´m sorry maybe I will have time to fix that later, somehow.

Chapter 19: The final act

Welcome to the inner workings of my mind
So dark and foul I can't disguise
Can't disguise
Nights like this
I become afraid
Of the darkness in my heart*

Staying alive blurted from her phone speakers. She was waiting for him. This was it. The final act. And she felt … Nothing, nothing at all. She´d thought she would at least be a bit sad but honestly she was kind of relieved. The constant emotional distress had made her weak; an easy target and now there were several threats that needed to be dealt with. People are so simply constructed one weakness occurs and they try to take you down. Gemma regretted to reveal her identity it made several business acquaintances difficult. It was time to disappear and let Moran pull the strings from London while she would go back to manage from the back-seat. Already bored again she hit the same song again on her phone; she´d beaten the great Sherlock Holmes! What else could she possibly do now? Maybe she should kill herself for real, did it matter? Her fingers moved lazily over her phone, responding to Sherlock´s message:

"I´m waiting…" GM

Gemma Moriarty was more or less a psychopath she lacked empathy and defied rules of any kind, was always drawn to illegal activities but she was not unable of emotions. Maybe more a product of her upbringing though she never regretted her parents way to educate her sister and her. In her opinion the feelings she held for a certain consulting detective had made her weaker and in many ways worse. She had overstepped essential boundaries that were meant to protect her. It was inevitable to carve those feelings out once and for all because as long as he was alive she would feel. Gemma was perfectly aware that there was no world where they could be together how would that work out anyway?

When she thought back to all those things that happened since she had planned to destroy Sherlock, it was all a blur. All over far too quickly. Gemma had been aware of Sherlock for a long time before they ever met. Indirectly she´d supplied him witch drugs a very long time ago. 'Kind of a stalker I am', she mused over her obsession. Probably she would even miss him.

As Sherlock entered the roof Gemma had replayed the song for the fifth time. The early morning brought a chilly wind. Gemma was tired oh so tired. Dark brown strands of her hair moved with the chilly air.

He was beaten, she remembered herself, beaten by her, in the end he was ordinary and not worth any more of her precious time. Never start something you find yourself unable to end. Straightening her back she took one last breath. One last inhale before things would go down. She could almost feel the tension, the promise of change but then it was no change at all it was going back to the ordinary distractions life held for her. Oh god she was tired.

Welcome to the final act of a twisted play. Let´s have some fun. Time to play.

"Here we are at last! You and me and our final problem!" She sighed heavily before continuing. "Stayin' alive. It´s so boring. Just staying…" Her hand moved in a straight line to emphasize her words.

Calmly she regarded him with a crocked smile before switching off the music, amused by Sherlock´s obvious tension that made him unable to stay still. His movement mirroring the workings of his mind.

"All my life I´ve been bored, searching for distractions and so far you´ve been the best one, Sherlock, but now I don´t even have you anymore because I´ve beaten you." Slowly she stood up straightening her black coat. "And in the end it was easy." Sherlock stopped dead in his pacing and turned towards her. "What do I do now? I´ve to go back to play with the ordinary people." She pouted and her red lipstick emphasized the movement of her mouth. Dark eyes roamed over the detective as she moved closer to him. She circled around him. "Did you almost start to wonder if I was real?" Her quite laugh sounded terrifying to Sherlock´s ears.

Finally Sherlock´s mind kicked back into motion.

"Ricarda Brook."

"No one seems to get the joke."

"Rich Brook. German for Reichenbach."

"Very good." Her tone had this light and mocking quality to it. She stood behind him now and her eyes dropped to his hands tapping the rhythm.

"Good. You got that, too!"

"Beats like digits. Every beat is a one; every rest is a zero. Binary code. That's why all those assassins tried to save my life. It was hidden on me; hidden inside my head – a few simple lines of computer code that can break into any system."

"I told all my clients: last one to Sherlock is a sissy."

"Yes, but now that it's up here, I can use it to alter all the records. I can kill Ricarda Brook and bring back Gemma Moriarty."

"Nooo! No, no, no. That´s too easy, Sherlock don´t be ordinary! There is NO CODE!"

"But the rhythm you tapped…"

"Partita number one. Thank you, Johann Sebastian Bach."

"But then how did you –"

Gemma interrupted him spreading her arms: "How did I break into the Bank, into the Tower, into the Prison? Just daylight robbery, honey. All it took were some willing participants.
I knew you'd fall for it. That's your weakness – you always want everything to be clever." For a moment she seemed disappointed. "Now Sherlock, shall we finish that little game of ours? The final act of the play! I´m kind of glad you chose a tall building – nice way to do it." A smirk appeared on her face. Sherlock looked at her confused for a moment.

"Do it? Do what? Yes, of course. My suicide." Gemma nodded slowly giving him a sympathetic smile; she lilted: "Genius detective proved to be a fraud, violated the actress he hired for his story. I read it in the paper, so it must be true. I do love newspapers. Fairytales. And pretty grimm ones too."

Sherlock inhaled: "I can still prove that you created an entirely false identity."

Gemma cocked her head to one side: "Oh, just kill yourself. It's a lot less effort. It´s all business, honey. You made that very clear." Her voice dropped until it was like ice, like venom injected directly into Sherlock´s veins, he shuddered. "As I made it very clear that your reputation will be ruined and you will give the ultimate prove to the story by killing yourself. You have to admit that´s sexier." She stood right next to him with a cruel smile on her lips.

Suddenly Sherlock turned and grabbed her by the collar of her woolen coat and held her over the edge of the roof. Anger contorted his features.

"Whoaa! Sherlock you want to let me fall? Well, well you dropped me already, sooooo…"

"You're insane."

"You're just getting that now?" Her eyes narrowed and the cruel smile slowly faded.

"Let´s sweeten the pot a little. If you don´t jump all your friends are going to die!"

Sherlock whispered in horror: "John." Gemma sighed heavily but dropped her voice to a whisper as well: "Not just John. Everyone, even though in your case that won´t be many." Sherlock pulled her back: "Mrs. Hudson."

"Honey, everyone."

"Lestrade."

"Three bullets. Three gunmen. Three victims. There's no stopping them now. Unless my people see you jump. You can have me arrested, you can torture me, you can do anything you like with me, not that you didn´t do most of those things already… but nothing's gonna prevent my men from pulling the trigger. Your only three friends in the world will die, unless -" A self-satisfied expression settled on her face.

"- unless I kill myself – complete your story." Sherlock´s gaze dropped to the floor in horror, he´d expected a lot of scenarios but jumping off of a building was not one of his favorite ones.

"No Sherlock, now it´s your story."

"I die in disgrace…"

"What did you think was the point of this whole game? Of course you will die in disgrace!" Her tone was still smug; Gemma had different scenarios planned out for her final act. By now she was kind of excited to find out which one it was going to be. Carefully she leaned over the ledge to look down over it holding back strands of her hair with her hand. "Oh look, you've got an audience now. Off you pop. Go on. I told you a while ago how it would end."

Sherlock felt fear rushing through his body his breathing is shaky now and he wished he had more control over his reactions right now. He would rather not give the criminal the satisfaction of seeing his painfully obvious anguish.

Gemma couldn´t let it go, she just loved to see him writhe: "Your death is the only thing that's gonna call off the killers. I'm certainly not gonna do it."
With dragging steps Sherlock stepped on the ledge of the rooftop before he spoke again: "Would you give me one moment, please? One moment of privacy, Gemma?" By the sound of her name Gemma glanced up at the detective his eyes turned towards her own and a twinge in her chest made her shudder slightly. In a short flashback she saw him kissing her scars in the hotel room so long ago, maybe she needed a minute too; she tried to sound bemused but it came out forced: "Sure, honey."

Sherlock looks around rapidly there was no chance to set his back-up plan in motion like this. More time was required and it came to him that he should have acted more carefully. Gemma might be insane but she was so well organized that Sherlock stood with his back to the wall. His mind raced in thousand directions while he tried to find a way out or at least a delay to get at least a chance to survive this. And then all of a sudden it was there, what did she just say? She won´t do it? Sherlock laughed out loud at the evident.

Gemma whirled around furious, what the hell was wrong now? "What?", she shouted disgruntled when Sherlock continued to laugh, "What is it? What did I miss?" With furrowed brows she took a step closer to him. Sherlock swiftly turned around and jumped back on the rooftop gracefully. Hands behind his back he walked quickly closer to her a satisfied smile on his lips he quotes her earlier words: "You're not going to do it. So the killers can be called off, then – there's a recall code or a word or a number. I don't have to die if I've got you."

Sherlock circled her while talking mirroring her former motion but Gemma barely turned her head to watch him before she started to giggle relieved: "Really? You think you can make me stop the order? You think you can make me do that?"

"Yes. So do you." This time his voice was like ice but Gemma brushed it off.

"Sherlock, your big brother and all the King's horses couldn't make me do a thing I didn't want to."
"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." Wow, was he really thinkin' he could make her do a thing she didn´t want? He was certainly not his brother, she wouldn´t have fucked the older Holmes. Did he believe he could have had her in the cab if she didn´t want it? She could have broken his arm and snapped his neck before the pain had even reached his brain. No, he could certainly not do that, he was not prepared for the depth of her soul. He had only gotten a tiny glimpse. But on the other hand this was her cue, the comforting weight of the prepared gun rested against her chest. The end of the play had just been written. Gemma inhaled slowly, she reached inside her pocket to press the button on her phone to inform Moran, texting without seeing, just took some practice. 'I hope you are prepared Sherlock.'

"Naah. You talk big. You're ordinary. You're on the side of the angels."

Sherlock felt more self-assured now and he leaned towards her before he spoke with menacing voice, she had been quite helpless in his hands before: "I may be on the side of the angels, but don't think for one second that I am one of them."

'Doubtful morals, huh? Here we are Sherlock, just prove to me that you are no different than I. But guess what! So am I - prepared to do anything.'

"No, you're not." She replied a bit of wonder in her tone. "You're me." The last part came out different and Sherlock couldn´t quite put a finger on it but there was more to it. Gemma´s eyes were locked to his and it appeared that she was searching for something in the depth of them that made Sherlock shudder.

'Thank you for admitting, honey. But too late now, should have thought about us sooner. Time to carve you out once and for all! Time for some last bit of my incredible acting!'

Gemma let her voice rise to a higher pitch: "You're me! Thank you! Sherlock Holmes."

Meaningful she raised her hand for him to take; Sherlock stared at it for a moment before he reluctantly took her small cold hand in his. Gemma looked up at him again and raised to the tip of her feet until the heels of her pumps had no more contact with the ground. For the blink of an eye Sherlock seemed confused but then her lips touched his. Their hand still linked between their bodies Sherlock wrapped his other arm around her and deepened the kiss. Gemma was a bit surprised, she hadn´t anticipated this. Her eyes were still open when his were already closed; she kept them open to file away this last kiss in her mind to remember it later.
When they parted their hands were still locked. Gemma held his hand tight in her own; her face turned to stone and she spoke very quietly: "As long as I'm alive, you can save your friends and you've got a way out." Her free hand retrieved the gun from her coat pocket. "Well, good luck with that."

The cold comforting metal of the gun in her right hand filled her with confidence. Sherlock would be given no other option than to jump. The second she put the gun to her mouth and pulled the trigger, there was shock in his grey eyes the same color as the sky today, she remembered later. While she fell backwards to the hard ground of the rooftop of St. Bart´s she saw something break inside his eyes. Nevertheless there was no satisfaction like she imagined it; there was only a second of regret. Never start something you cannot end, she reminded herself. There was shock and unshed tears in Sherlock´s eyes as he stared at her body; both made her sick. She heard his steps on the roof towards the edge, she heard his phone call, and how he told John Goodbye and for a moment she wanted to take it all back, to really die. Then the phone call ended, she pushed herself just a tiny bit from the ground and saw him fall. She choked on a sob. 'NO! No you´re not going to cry! Get the hell out of here! Moran is on the way.' He would place the dead body of the woman that had a striking resemblance to her, she had learned from Irene´s fake suicide. There were no record official or not in the system and the data that had been collected during the court case had long been replaced by a willing participant. And this was the end.

There was no world where both could exist together, was there? There was no story where the villain gets the hero and gets to live a happy-ever-after-life.

* MS MR – Hurricane Sry same song again but I love it