A/N: Here it is The Fall. Break out the tissues and grab your shock blankets.
Just a quick warning I divert a little from the actual happenings of Reichenbach, but hey it's called an AU for a reason.
xXx
Sherlock started laughing from where he was standing on the ledge.
"What? What is it? What did I miss?" Moriarty asked demandingly, he didn't like when his play things laughed at him. Sherlock hopped off the ledge back on to the safety of the roof and started walking towards the mad Irishman.
"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." Sherlock circled Jim. "I don't have to die, if I've got you." Sherlock said half singing the end of the sentence.
"Oh." Moriarty laughed at the absurdity of the notion. "You think you can make me stop the order? You think you can make me do that?"
"Yes. So do you."
"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?" Sherlock said invading Moriarty's space. "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."
"No, you talk big; nah you're ordinary. You're ordinary; you're on the side of the angels."
"I may be on the side of the angels, but don't think for one second that I'm one of them."
The mad Irishman studied Sherlock's determined expression, seeing the answer in the cold blue eyes. "No. You're not."
Moriarty blinked, overwhelming emotions bubbling to the surface. Finally someone worthy of my attention. He did not disappoint.
A smile broke out on his face. "I see. You're not ordinary, no. You're me." A gleeful gasp escaped Jim. "You're me. Thank you."
"Sherlock Holmes." Moriarty held out his hand to the taller man, knowing he was beaten. There was one more thing the mad man could do to win and he wasn't afraid to do it.
Sherlock took his nemesis' hand, not wanting to be unsportmansly. He was surprised when Jim placed a soft kiss to his cheek while he shook his rival's hand, but he didn't let it show.
"Thank you." Moriarty was nodding his head. "Bless you" he whispered reverently. "As long as I'm alive, you can save your friends. You've got a way out. Well good luck with that."
Sherlock was confused by these words. Why would he need luck, he had won. He soon got his answer when Jim Moriarty swiftly pulled a gun out of his coat, shoved it in his mouth and pulled the trigger.
"No." Sherlock said a bit too late, pulling back and wrenching his hand out of Moriarty's grip. Seeing his now dead rival on the ground, blood pouring from the bullet wound in his head, Sherlock's mind was reeling.
Sherlock honestly thought he could have avoided this; he had Moriarty right where he wanted him, but he didn't expect the Irishman to stick that gun in his mouth and pull the trigger. It showed Sherlock how truly insane the consulting criminal was. Now he had no other choice, he looked around the roof hoping that this was all a dream, that he would wake up in 221B next to John; that he wouldn't have to make the phone call that was going to break his heart.
He stepped up on the ledge just as John's taxi had arrived. Sherlock pulled out his phone and quickly dialed his partner's number.
"Hello?"
"John"
"Hey Sherlock you okay?"
"Turn around and walk back to where you came from."
"No I'm coming in."
"JUST DO AS I ASK! Please." The desperation in Sherlock's voice made John reverse his direction.
"Where?"
"Stop there."
"Sherlock?"
"Okay look up, I'm on the rooftop."
"Oh God."
"I-I can't come down, so we'll just have to do it like this."
"What's going on?"
"An apology; it's all true."
"What?"
"Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty."
"Why are you saying this?"
"I'm a fake."
"Sherlock."
"The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade. I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson and Molly. In fact, tell anyone who will listen to you that I created Moriarty for my own purposes."
"Okay, Sherlock, shut up. Shut up. The first time we met….the first time we met you knew all about my sister, right?"
"Nobody could be that clever."
"You could."
"I researched you. Before we met I discovered everything I could to impress you. It's a trick, just a magic trick."
"No. Stop it now!" John started walking towards the building intent on dragging Sherlock off that roof.
"No, stay exactly where you are! Don't move."
John backed up to his previous position hand that wasn't holding his mobile to his ear up in compliance.
"Alright."
"Keep your eyes fixed on me! Please will you do this for me?"
"Do what?"
"This phone call, um… it's my note. It's what people do don't they? Leave a note?"
"Leave a note when?" John was sure he knew the answer but he didn't want to believe it. He didn't want to believe the lies coming from the mouth of the man he loved. He hadn't admitted it until now that he truly did love Sherlock, and now the dark haired genius was trying to convince him that the man he fell in love with was all just an act.
"Goodbye John."
"No, don't."
Sherlock paused wanting to tell John that he loved him, but it would be counterproductive to the whole conversation he just had with the blonde. Tears rolling down his face Sherlock lowered the phone and tossed it on the roof. Hoping Molly remembered the signal and was still listening in; Sherlock spread his arms and stepped off the roof.
John couldn't believe his eyes. Sherlock had walked off the roof onto thin air; he had seen his partner fall. His feet carried him forward hoping that Sherlock was just pulling one of his stunts and had landed safely or was hanging in the air by wires behind the building blocking John's view. He rounded the corner and was knocked to the ground by a biker.
A bit dazed John got up and continued his progress to a crowd that had started to form where Sherlock would have landed. He whispered the genius' name like a prayer, hoping the people were surrounding a very convincing dummy.
A few of the bystanders tried to keep John back but he pushed through telling them "I'm a doctor, let me come through. Let me come through please. No he's my friend, please. He's my friend please."
He finally made it to the body and was able to grab the wrist. John went cold and felt the world spinning when he didn't feel a pulse right before a woman pulled his hand away. It was even worse when the paramedics turned the body over revealing Sherlock's injured face covered in blood. John's feet gave way under him as they placed Sherlock on the stretcher. The former army doctor didn't meet the cold pavement because a dear bystander kept him upright and slowly guided him to a sitting position.
He couldn't believe it, Sherlock was dead.
