NOTE: Thank you for your kind reviews, I´m truly happy you like it! Mentions of drug abuse, sadness and Moran being a good employee ;) Sorry there will be some Gemma/Sebastian in here, nooo not too sorry I guess. Some more backstory for the both of them. Hope you like the new chapter!

Chapter 20: Being dead

„The great detective Sherlock Holmes brought to fall by a pretty face. Who would have suggested?" Mycroft sneered complacent at Sherlock.

Sherlock slumped down in the arm-chair opposite of Mycroft not much to say himself.

"Was she pretty? I never recognised." Of course he had at one point recognized that Gemma had been quite beautiful though the concept of beauty was foreign to him. John had once pointed out how unfair it was that beautiful woman tended to throw themselves in Sherlock´s way and he was completely oblivious. But that had never been quite true; Sherlock was just never interested in the normal, the uninspired, the regular.

This was probably the first time Sherlock had truly thought about Gemma´s appearance. That had never been the reason why he´d been drawn to her, the similarity they shared had spiked his interest long before. He had lost himself in the darkness of her eyes and the depths that lay beneath them; he had been intrigued by her intellect, the way she had played him was beyond anything he´d ever experienced. That was far more important to him than how delicate her body was or the evenly her face. As Mycroft spoke again Sherlock nearly jumped, he was so lost in his train of thoughts for a moment.

"Oh, I´m sure you did. I hope at least because if it was her stunning personality I am slightly worried about your mental health, brother mine." Mycroft was far too pleased in Sherlock´s eyes. He wasn´t in the mood for a brotherly banter right now. A heavy sadness settled over him, he´d just lost everything he´d ever cared for: the few friends he had, believed him to be a fraud, his best friend believed him to be dead and the only person he´d ever wanted to be his just killed herself. How was the saying? You never know what you have until you lose it?

"Don´t worry for my mental health." Far too late for that, he added inwardly. Secretly he thought it was Mycroft´s fault, Sherlock would never have abandoned Moriarty the way Mycroft made him. Probably he would never have left her at all. Maybe it was for the best.

Weeks later

It was rainy outside Gemma could hear the rain pouring on the roof-light of her flat distantly. Her dark eyes followed the way of the droplets running down the slant of the window. Paris was a beautiful city but Gemma hadn´t seen much of it the last weeks. Mostly she had stayed in her flat on the couch watching crap telly and being incredible high. She stretched her arm over her head lazily her fingers dragged over the small table next to the armrest of the couch until her fingertips touched the syringe. Next she fiddled for the band on the ground. In a fluent motion she tied it around her upper arm and carefully injected the needle into her veins. She loosened the ribbon and it fell back to the floor together with the syringe. Her eyes fluttered shut and she sighed in pleasure.

Emotions, stupid emotions wouldn´t leave her, why couldn´t she go back to her usual self? For a moment she didn´t know what it was, her chest constricted, for a moment she thought she was drowning. Her face felt strange so she reached up and her fingertips felt wet. A sob ripped through the quietness. 'Ohhh, right crying, that´s what we do now instead of blowing up people. Pathetic.' Pained she crawled in on herself and started to sob more violently. Never before in her life has she´d cried like she´d for the last weeks. Never before she´d felt alone. And she cried just for the sake of it and the knowledge it would bring at least a few hours of relieve.

Half a week later Sebastian arrived. He didn´t even know where Gemma was currently living, he hadn´t heard from her in weeks. He was not stupid, not as clever as Gemma but smart enough to track down someone, he hadn´t been CIA for nothing and he had been very good at his former job. Moran found her in more or less than two days. He stood before her apartment door but didn´t bother knocking or ringing; she wouldn´t answer the door anyway. In two minutes he picked the lock, the door clicked open. Hesitantly he stood before it knowing quite well he wouldn´t like what he would find. Moran knew her for too long to believe she was just taking a vacation.

Apparently he was not prepared for what he was about to find. Gemma was passed out on the couch the telly was running and drugs and supplies were sprawled over the table and the floor.

"Oh for Christ sake, Gem…" Moran stood in the messy flat for a few minutes deciding what to do next. He walked over to her limp form and picked her up gingerly. She stirred but didn´t wake up and Moran carried her to the bathroom. Carefully he put her in the bathtub and turned on the cold water. Gemma´s eyes snapped open, she gasped loud and squirmed violently under the ice cold spray. "WHAT THE FUCK!" Moran grabbed her shoulders and held her underneath of the pouring water. Her numb fingers tried to get hold of his arms. "SEBASTIAN!" When Moran was sure she had recognized him he let her go and stepped back warily. Anger vapored from her while she turned off the water. Shakily she stood up wearing nothing but a black negligee. Her eyes locked with his as she pulled the dress over her head and threw it right in his face. "Get out, I think I need a hot shower now!"

Moran waited patiently on the couch until Gemma returned with a towel wrapped around her, water dripped from her hair. "What are you doing here? Shouldn´t you be running my business?"

"Do you care to explain this mess?" His hands pointed to the ground.

"No, I don´t." Slowly she moved closer until she loomed over him; gracefully she sat down on his lap pushing him back into the cushions with her hands.

"Gem… I don´t think…" Sebastian knew perfectly well how this would end but he was not sure if he would have the strength to resist her. They had done this before countless times but it meant nothing, never did, never would. The towel dropped to her hips, droplets of water ran down from her hair over her breasts… Yeah, he wouldn´t even try to resist, fuck better judgment! In a sudden movement he grabbed her and pulled her into a rough kiss. She never said his name during sex and it made him angry because he knew she´d cried out Sherlock´s name every time they´d been together. She should appreciate that Sebastian at least really cared for her not like this idiot. His hands found the soft flesh of her breasts and she moaned into his mouth grinding shameless against him. Reluctantly her fingers found hold in his crisp white shirt before she got hold of it and ripped it open in a fluent motion. In no time his pants were discarded and her slim hand positioned his cock before she pushed herself down on it. He saw her blown pupils and knew she was most certainly still high but he couldn´t find it in him to care. He fucked her on the couch with the knowledge he would regret it afterwards.

They´d had sex several times during their acquaintance and Moran had always liked it but of course he knew that it never meant what he would like it to. Though he never questioned what they had it was far too good to do that. Their first time had been after an extremely dangerous mission that had gone completely wrong. Gemma had just stood in the middle of the room in an incredible hot sleek black dress, all beauty and danger wrapped up in dark silk. It had been a party they´d attended to do a break in during it ended with them standing in a huge ball room surrounded by a bunch of frightful men threatening to kill them. They had no guns, no weapons at all but Gemma just stood her ground calm and collected. Moran was a skilled fighter but against fifteen armed men they should not stand a chance. With a cold smile on her lips Gemma walked through the room regarding every men with her dark eyes when she´d finished she stood right in the middle. She spoke with a lilt to her voice: "Darlings you can walk away now and live or you decide to stay and I will kill every – single – one of you." One of the man snorted taking a step closer to the middle: "You are crazy!" Gemma raised an eyebrow at him: "Maybe I am, maybe I´m not." She cocked her head to the side taking the last two strides closer to him. "Your wife has an affair with your second in command; you have a problem with your virility that´s why you seek your sake in whores who cannot help you. You´re afraid it is mental condition because the doctors' can´t help you either. Maybe it´s because you raped that girl in Bangladesh and you feel guilty about it. Maybe it´s because you lost control over your empire. Five of your employees currently in this room are plotting to overthrow and kill you including the man who screws your wife. She´s in on it by the way." The words rushed out of her and when she´d finished she waited a moment for the effect. The stunned silence, the confused looks and the scared ones all coming back to her, she enjoyed it just a second before she went on: "I am offering you to disclose every single one of those men with impervious proof if you let us leave."

The huge man, the owner of a drug-empire stood there under her calculating eyes shaking with anger. His voice trembled when he spoke to her in a low pressed murmur: "Who?"

Gemma giggled: "First things first. My dress is far too expensive to get all torn up in a gun fight. I will write it down for you, then we leave and then you can do whatever you desire."

"Fine."

Gemma had written down the names and the reasons of the rogue employees in fifteen minutes every now and then regarding one of them with cold eyes. Briskly she handed the paper to their boss and they left the house unharmed.

It had been crazy and dangerous but she was so good at playing people that it had been a pleasure to watch her. Fifteen minutes later she´d stopped the car outside town; they had both been high on adrenaline and they had fucked in the backseat. Always the same way; Gemma always had the control both in business and intimate matters but Moran really didn´t mind.

A month later

"WHAT?! Repeat that! I´m not sure I understood correctly!" Gemma was barely able to contain herself clutching the phone tight in her hand. Moran couldn´t be serious.

"Gemma, calm down. I don´t know if it´s true. The source isn´t very reliable."

"CALM DOWN?! I´M NOT CALMING DOWN!" Moran cringed at her voice he could picture her agitated face perfectly in his mind. His attempt to calm her hadn´t the desired effect Gemma was livid. How the hell was that even possible? She saw him jump!

Moran sighed and repeated carefully what he´d heard: "The source said a man looking like Sherlock Holmes had been seen in South-America." He knew that giving this information to Gemma was stupid, but he knew if he wouldn´t give it to her and she would find out about it she would have him killed despite him being the closest thing to a friend she had. The other reason Moran couldn´t keep it from her ensued from her obvious feelings for the detective. Since Sherlock had died she was different in a bad way, figuring she already was bad she was now horrible.

"WHERE?" No, no way, Gemma´s mind raced in a hundred different directions. Her heart started to beat faster and faster. It was over she was so relieved when it was finally over she couldn´t go through all those emotions again. Since Sherlock had jumped off of St. Bart's Gemma had become colder, most of all to herself. She´d stopped caring for anything and Moran had to handle most of the business alone because the larger part of the last two month Gemma had simply been high. The effort to drown out all feelings could only be achieved by a certain combination of drugs. At least until Moran took a flight to Paris to find her; when he finally found her he´d been furious with her self-absorbed behavior. Gemma had to admit it had also been the first time she´d been scared of him. After two weeks she was mostly clean and able to work again; so much for being better…

The silence on the other end of the phone started to annoy her: "I WON´T REPEAT THE QUESTION!"

"Bolivia."

"Where exactly?" Her voice was deathly quiet now.

"Palmasola."

"WHAAAAT?!" Gemma stood in the middle of Paris screaming into her phone which caused several people to give her strange looks and forgo her. Several deep breaths later she asked a lot lower: "Palmasola? The prison city we own? What the hell is he even doing there?"

"According to my source he´s trying to dismantle your web as he calls it. He tries to take it down." Moran´s shoulders were already hunched and his eyes squeezed shut in anticipation of Gemma´s screaming that never came. He could only hear heavy angry breathing through the speaker.

"Great." Was her only response before she seemed to collect herself and continue: "I´m flying down there." 'And kill that idiot once and for all before he ruins my life completely!' She mentally noted.

"Wait, Gemma do you think that´s a good idea? Maybe you should just let him die down there…?"

Gemma straightened and turned around heading back to the Metro.

"Yeah, maybe you´re right. I´ll think about it." Moran wanted to say something about that she was a pretty bad liar but she´d already hung up.

Of course Sebastian was right, but she couldn´t stand the thought of someone else killing her detective. That´s just not the way this was supposed to be. Anger clouded her vision how dare he to undo her beautiful plan by still being alive. How did he even do it? Well, she did it too.

Back in her flat she grabbed a bag from under her messy bed and started to throw clothes into it and a few ceramic knifes, those always came in handy. Once in Bolivia she would buy one or two handguns. She searched hectically for one of the fake passports ripping open drawers and opening cupboard doors in the process. Where the hell did she leave those? Eventually she found the box with the passports, a handgun and different currencies in the kitchen under the sink buried under cleaning supplies she never used. "Clara Miller" would do nicely.

An hour after she´d received Moran´s call Gemma was on her way to the airport with an unsettling feeling in her guts. She felt giddy, excited and a third one she couldn´t quite define at first. Happiness maybe or relieve? Oh she´d become sentimental, great!

At the airport she took the next plane bringing her to Germany from there she could go further to Bolivia. First class flight to Frankfurt and then the next flight to La Paz. Why was she doing this again? Ah, right to kill Sherlock Holmes. Again.