A/N: Wow! That chapter really hit a nerve, and for good reason. Thanks to all the readers, and to these fantastic reviewers: BritMel (My Watson! I love you!), Adi Who is Also Mou, CumberChelz, MorbidbyDefault, BelieverofManyThings, Merlocked, Deep-within-the-Labyrinth, coloradoandcolorado1, Freewaygirl, Ivy D.L., MizJoely, Dizzybunny, whytejigsaw, thestarlitrose, superlc529, CompaniontoMisterHolmes, , 4May, LaserGirl77, ashNfeathers, AdaYuki, Empress of Verace, StaytheSame, starshortcake, Benedict-AddictHolmes, The Side Of The Angels In 221B, ThisLooksLikeAJobForMe, Fayth3, deadgurlagain, Beth-TauriChick, Nat, Timeywimey11, Shannon Burns, asteadyheart, and Punknatch. Two or three chapters left!
This chapter is dedicated to strawberrypatty, aka Emcee Frodis. Happy Birthday to one of the most fantastic people I have met in this fandom! You are a source of encouragement and inspiration and thank you so much for being you, sweetie!
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Moriarty shook his head and sighed. "Such a shame." He motioned for Sherlock to back away from Molly. He approached and stood looking down at her for a few seconds, then looked back at Sherlock. "But that's what life is all about, isn't it?" He asked, with a regretful smile. "Nothing but love stories and tournaments of lies." He walked away again, towards the door.
"I kept my part of the bargain," Sherlock said venomously. "Now keep yours."
"Of course," Moriarty agreed smoothly. He tossed Sherlock the control device with one hand and took out a gun in the other.
"Now tell me where you hid the bombs," Sherlock ordered, and Moriarty broke into hysterical laughter.
Sherlock watched him, frowning. "Why are you laughing?"
Moriarty didn't answer, just kept laughing so hard he almost dropped the gun. Sherlock glared at him. "Why are you laughing?" He demanded.
Moriarty finally stopped, wiping the tears from his eyes with his free hand. "Oh, Sherlock. Sherlock, Sherlock, Sherlock. I can't believe it."
"Can't believe what?" Sherlock asked. "What the hell are you playing at?"
Moriarty gasped and held back another laugh. "Oh, you're going to love this. Really. You will." He wiped his eyes again and smiled. "Well, you see… there are no bombs."
Sherlock stared at him. "What?"
"There. Are. No. Bombs!" Moriarty shouted.
Sherlock kept staring at him. Moriarty looked incensed.
"Did you really think I'd be that stupid? To plant bombs all over England? Something that big could be traced eventually, or even if it wasn't, it would cause me just as many problems as it would you." He shook his head and gave a little bitter laugh. "You really thought I'd do that? Blow up half of London? Oh, ordinary Sherlock Holmes. Fool you twice, honey!"
Sherlock stared at him in fury. "So all this time…"
"Haven't planted a single bomb," Moriarty said with a shake of his head. He smirked. "I knew you'd believe me. I told you once before: that's your weakness. Everything has to be sooo intricate and clever with you! A puzzle for the great Sherlock Holmes to solve! Well I gave you the puzzle of a lifetime, Sherlock. And you failed it."
He took a few steps back. "I'd best be off now. Got to finish up a few things. And you'll want to make your phone call in private."
"And no one will believe my story," Sherlock said softly. "If I tell them the truth, they'll think I'm making it up because I can't cope with what I've done."
"That's what usually happens with scorned lovers," Moriarty agreed. "They always say they're innocent, even with blood on their hands."
"What will you do now?" Sherlock asked.
Moriarty shrugged. "Try to find another distraction. Finding you took a long time, but eventually there will be another you. We're not ordinary, Sherlock, but we're not the only ones. Or so I hope.
"Well, it's been real, it's been fun, but… oh, who am I kidding. It's been real fun!" Moriarty said with a grin. "I'll write to you, Sherlock. Maybe you can stay in Pentonville!"
He started to turn, but Sherlock's voice stopped him. "Of course, there's one little thing I forgot to tell you…dear Jim."
Moriarty turned and frowned. "What?"
Sherlock took a step back from him, closer to Molly. "I have a little secret too."
"Oh?" Moriarty asked. "What?"
Sherlock smiled. "I knew you hadn't planted bombs."
Moriarty stared at him. "You did not. You believed me."
"Nope," Sherlock said. "You see, my "big brother" as you call him, slipped a little something into the mobile you first gave me. Took him a little time, but he managed to infiltrate your new network. Found out all sorts of fascinating things from a few of your people. They broke rather easily, not like Moran. Of course, you were left scrambling after I hunted the original ones all down, so you couldn't get first-rate help. And he told me everything I needed to know in that lovely box of condoms he gave me."
Moriarty's expression hardened. "You're lying."
"Not today," Sherlock said. "You know how you had a few people 'quit' on you and disappear? You figured they were running from you. But they weren't. Mycroft has them. When you wanted to exchange mobiles, Mycroft took the chip out before I gave it back to you. The only thing I hadn't figured out was where you were going to end it, until Miss Adler learned that little secret. Then the map all made sense."
Moriarty clenched the gun tightly. "No. You're making all this up. Stop making up a story!" He screamed.
"But I thought you like stories," Sherlock said with a laugh. He moved back another step. "Here's a story for you. Yes, you made me be open to feelings. Yes, I do love Molly. But this time there's going to be a different ending, dear Jim. This time the villain doesn't get away. Something else happens to him."
"What?" Moriarty asked.
"He dies," Sherlock said… and the lights went out.
Sherlock immediately dropped, covering Molly's body with his as gunfire exploded all around. He heard the explosive thuds of bullets piercing flesh, smelled the gunpowder and felt the heat of the assault from Mycroft's men, all wearing night vision goggles with heat-seeking detection devices. The bullets seemed to fly forever, through in reality he knew it lasted for less than 10 seconds.
Then everything was quiet.
The lights came back on. Sherlock squinted to readjust as footsteps rushed forward and from the door. Dimly, he heard John's voice, and Mycroft's, but his attention was fixed on one person, one man. No, not a man. An insane spider who'd tried to poison them all.
Moriarty lay on the ground, quite dead.
Sherlock got up and walked over to his lifeless body. "Red hot, doc," he said softly.
"Sherlock?"
He turned to see John and Mycroft, along with Mycroft's men.
"Implement Project Blue," Mycroft said tonelessly, and his men scrambled to obey.
Sherlock went back to Molly as John and Mycroft reached them.
"He's really dead," John said. "God help me, but I don't feel bad about it."
"Nor should you," Mycroft said. "He would not have stopped. He would have continued his madness elsewhere until the day he died."
"Still, a bit of a mess for you, isn't it?" Sherlock asked.
Mycroft shrugged. "James Moriarty was too dangerous to be left alive. He proved that after the last time I let him go. Had he been carrying out his threat, his action would have constituted terrorism. Bombs are not taken lightly."
"But there weren't any, right?" John asked.
Mycroft only smiled, as if to say: 'let me handle the important details, John.'
"What about Molly?" John asked softly.
"Unconscious. She'll be bruised for a while, but I had to apply enough pressure to convince Moriarty I'd really killed her. The drug took care of the rest." At that, he took a tube of something and a handkerchief out of his pocket and began to clean off his mouth
"Sedating lip balm," John said, shaking his head. "Brilliant. But how did you keep it from affecting you? You never told me that bit."
Sherlock waited until he'd cleaned his mouth thoroughly before he replied. "Sealed my lips with wax. Another magic trick."
He pocketed the items, then gathered Molly in his arms, not caring about the chaos around him. "Molly," he said softly. "Wake up, Molly."
She didn't respond at first. John checked her eyes and nodded. "She's all right. Just give her a few more minutes." He went to get some water.
Sherlock looked at Mycroft, who was staring at him impassively. "I suppose I should say thank you," he said at length.
Mycroft's eyebrows rose. "And I suppose I should say you're welcome."
"Yes. Glad we got that sorted," Sherlock said, and his brother nodded, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He walked away to give a directive.
John returned with some water. Sherlock patted some onto Molly's face. "Molly," he said. "Wake up."
A moment later, Molly stirred and coughed. "Sherlock," she croaked.
"It's all right," he said softly. "You're going to be bruised for a few days but I had to make it look real. I'm sorry I had to hurt you but I had to make sure he thought you were dead."
"What did you…"
"Sedative on my lips. Transferred it to you when I kissed you. Then I applied just enough pressure to your artery to knock you out and the drug made you appear dead. The rest was for show. I moved my hands while I chocked you but he didn't see."
"You always have a plan," Molly murmured, coughing again.
"Don't talk. We need to get you to hospital. And Mycroft will be complaining any moment now that we're in the way. John, I believe our business here is finished."
"Moriarty? Is he…dead?" Molly asked.
"Yes, Molly. This time for good," Sherlock said.
"Okay," she said, and then stopped talking, resting against Sherlock's solid warmth.
He scooped her up carefully, then turned to his best friend. "Ready?"
"God, yes," John said.
Moriarty's body was being readied for transport as Mycroft continued his direction. It was a big operation if Mycroft was overseeing it personally. But then, no other operation had been quite so personal.
Sherlock nodded at his brother, and with Molly in his arms he and John left.