Proud to announce that I have a new beta who's been a friend of mine for a while: Katari Michelos! Thanks bud!
It was two days before Sherlock Holmes returned to Baker Street and he was surprisingly optimistic about the world despite his knowing of something coming to ruin him within the year. It wasn't like he or Gabriel, whom he still had trouble calling 'father', could do anything about it.
When John showed him that Moriarty hacked into his blog, he honestly knew that he was getting into his final bout with the consulting criminal.
[2 months later - May]
Sherlock had his father promise to not interfere directly in his life now that he was piecing together the endgame of his rival. After being cellmates with Moriarty, he knew that he would have to 'mess up' a few times to get Moriarty to reveal what he needed to know.
"Honestly Sherly, I hate how I can't do anything to stop this train wreck from happening." Gabriel whined as he was perched on his couch in the living room while Sherlock paced the floor. John was out shopping for food while Mrs. Hudson was out for bingo night with some of her friends. Even so, the archangel had soundproofed the room and got rid of any bugs whenever he appeared. Even Mycroft didn't know what was going to happen soon to his half-brother and Sherlock intended it to stay that way.
"We have to get him to slip up and if I'm going to be the martyr then I might as well get as much out of it as I can. As soon as he believes that he has won, you can do whatever you wish to him." The detective drawled and Gabriel gained a predatory grin.
"Excellent."
Finally, Sherlock plopped down into John's chair.
"So, any news regarding the situation in America?"
"My little bro Castiel has teamed up with a demon to try and get enough power to end the civil war going on back at home that Raphael is leading. No one knows I'm alive yet and Dad probably has had this planned out with your deadline coming up so I don't interfere. Hell, they still don't know I'm alive yet so you're just going to deal with me for a while longer with this instinct going on right now to stay close."
"Hmmmm…so tell me more about your time as a pagan."
[4 months later - September]
"They released him. No charges." Sherlock threw the newspaper down on the table for his father's sake while John stormed into his room, oblivious to the fact that there was someone invisible in the room that Sherlock only knew because of the candy wrapper shifting ever-so slightly on the couch. Gabriel flew to Sherlock's room while the detective walked in and locked the door behind him, trusting Gabriel to have already soundproofed it.
"That little shit better be damn happy that I can't do anything to alert him to anything in your favor right now." Gabriel huffed. "Hell, it was a good trick but blackmailing people into letting him out of prison?!"
"Sherlock?! I'm going out!" John's faint voice called out through the door. There was only the sound of the blogger leaving as the two sat in the bedroom stewing.
"You do know he'll be coming to gloat." Sherlock stated, staring out the window.
"Not that I'll like it." Gabriel mumbled. "Are you sure I can't-"
"I'm positive. This is my battle and I'm doing it on my terms."
"Ugh. Why do you have to be so self-righteous at the worst times?"
"I don't know. Getting stabbed at a hotel by the Devil to let two humans escape would qualify for that."
"Shut up. Your guest is coming right now. A couple blocks away according to the wards."
"Then I'd best prepare a cup of tea for him."
"You and your British-ness."
[ 2 months later - November]
As Sherlock looked over the glowing footprints that would end up leading him to solving the case of the ambassador's children being kidnapped, he sighed softly.
'This is my last case.' He thought with a pang of sadness. He'd be around these people for only a short bit longer. Hell, he'd even miss ridiculing Anderson on a weekly basis.
When he found himself running around the streets that night as a fugitive with John handcuffed to his wrist as a 'hostage' he knew he didn't have a lot of time left. After running into Kitty Riley and 'Richard Brook' at the reporter's apartment, he knew that this was his last night.
"You need to head back to Baker Street. They can't arrest you if I've been tricking you into helping me get away with all of these crimes." He said and held back a flinch as John's eyes widened. "No, I didn't do it but that's what they want to believe. Moriarty has them wrapped them around his finger right now and I'm the main target. Not you. Head home and make sure Mrs. Hudson is okay. I have a place to hide out at till tomorrow."
"Are you sure? What if you get arrested before I can meet up with you again?" John asked and Sherlock tried his best to hold back a grimace.
"Then know that this is going to end soon. I promise you." He couldn't help it. He might have not fit in with normal humans while he still was one, but he was hugging his very best friend he'd ever had before going to his death in the morning. It utterly shocked his blogger and as soon as John realized it, Sherlock had let go and stepped back.
"Good luck Sherlock." With that, John walked quickly down the alleyway and double checked for the Scotland Yard before disappearing.
"Damn." It was no surprise that his father would show up by this point.
"I know about compassion. I don't like to use it often but it appears every once in a while considering I'm dying tomorrow."
Gabriel's eyes flashed in pain and anger.
"I don't know how you can say that so flippantly. Dying is a lot of pain and from what I can tell, yours is too. I loathe that I have to be around to see my kid being offed."
Suddenly, they were back in Gabriel's London apartment that he had acquired in the past few months he'd been tutoring Sherlock in just about everything, especially the supernatural.
"To be completely honest, I am quite terrified since I only know that I am going to die. It's only because I know what's going to happen afterwards that is what is keeping me going."
"Well, the bright side is that you won't be complaining about having to regularly eat and sleep all of the time."
"Thank god for small miracles."
"Blasphemy~~"
"Shut up."
This was going to be the last calm moment for a while and both of them knew it. Moriarty, at least, would be taken care of soon enough.
"He's going to want to make a grandiose speech so I'm going to be wearing a recording device. Any chance you could conveniently find a cctv camera to capture the showdown?"
"But of course. I'll be around to make sure nothing bad happens to anyone."
"Thanks….father…."
"YOU FINALLY SAID IT!"
"I said shut up!"
And then the text message arrived.
If Sherlock didn't know that his father was around and keeping an eye on the situation, he would be utterly terrified. Not to say that being told that he would have to jump to his death while Moriarty had snipers on three of the closest people to him wasn't scary enough even knowing that everything would turn out fine if things went according to his plan.
Oh yes, he'd played his part to Moriarty's plan. Let him believe that he thought the code actually meant something. A code that could 'break into any system'. It was just another game. Something that his father had taught him through lessons of when he was a Trickster. Let them believe what they want to believe until you snatch it away from them to teach them what was truly right.
It was all he had when Moriarty asked him for a handshake only to tell him that he was on the side of the angels. Oh how true he was.
The only thing he wasn't expecting was for Moriarty to shoot himself in the head.
"Oh don't worry about that, kiddo. I switched it at the last minute and he's just unconscious. The blood was just for dramatic effect." Sherlock turned around to see Gabriel standing there, smiling weakly.
"So he'll have his punishment then?"
"A little bit of mental torture while he's rotting in prison for the murder of Sherlock Holmes and attempted murder of Greg Lestrade, Martha Hudson, and John Watson. The perk of me smiting him will be administered after I get bored of him."
"And the tape?"
"He's just standing there smiling while you get ready to jump off the diving board." Gabriel gave a very weak smile before pulling his son into a hug. "I know you're scared but this has to happen and I am so sorry that you have to do this kiddo. Do you want me to make it instant?"
"That…would be very nice." Sherlock murmured as he allowed his father to hug him. He'd never imagine that he'd ever get to see his father in this lifetime let alone hug him before essentially committing suicide to move onto the next challenge. "Thank you so much for everything."
"No problem. Now, I believe Moriarty has someone he wanted you to call."
It had to be one of the most gut-wrenching things he had ever done to call John. The only good thing to come out of it was that he could tell him that he wasn't a fraud and that he had no other choice than to jump. It'd fit into the nice little narrative that was going to haunt Moriarty and the rest of his friends for their lives. Even Mycroft was watching in horror as his little brother was standing on the roof of St. Bart's as he dispatched men to get there immediately. Gabriel's reach had went even that far to show Moriarty standing there while the real one lay unconscious in fake blood.
As he allowed himself to fall forwards off the roof top, he could hear John shrieking his name and the wind rushing past his ears and the pavement rushed up to meet him and then…
Nothing.
Gabriel couldn't bear to look down at his son who lay dead on the street below him while his instincts were screaming at him to be down there. He could already feel the grace that was intertwined with Sherlock's soul begin to wake up. Instead, he disguised himself as a security guard and handcuffed a now clean Moriarty and bashed him over the head with a pipe to make his evidence match the tape he had running as well as a little early retribution.
The sirens below were blaring as Mycroft's team finally arrived at the same time as the police and he began his role by yelling down to the people below that he found a man up on the rooftop.
The police investigating found the wire on Sherlock's body and played it back with it conveniently cutting off into static before Moriarty had shot himself. That paired with the tape of Moriarty all but forcing Sherlock to have no other choice but to jump and admit all of the other crimes had gotten him locked into a high security prison. Moriarty himself was not expecting to be alive, claiming that he had shot himself with a gun to the head but the police disregarded that as a crazy plea to get away. Nothing more than an insane raving by a criminal.
Two days of doubting himself in his cell, Moriarty suddenly was driven into madness having wild hallucinations. He would remain that way for a month before he was found dead on floor of his cell with no natural causes but no evidence to suspect foul play.
Mycroft was devastated that his brother had been played and that his brother's father hadn't stepped in to save him. He had never found out what supernatural creature Gabriel was but felt guilty for sharing Sherlock's past to Moriarty in the first place and couldn't stay angry at anyone but himself.
The Scotland Yard were astounded that they had been so wrong about the consulting detective, particularly Donovon and Anderson. Lestrade was devastated that Sherlock was so out of options and help that he had killed himself to save the D.I's life.
John Watson was the one that was most affected seeing as he had watched his best friend kill himself in front of his eyes to save their friends along with himself. He ended up going back into therapy but still stayed at 221 B after Mrs. Hudson and Mycroft himself helped clean up anything of Sherlock's that he didn't want to stay there.
The three snipers that had been targeting Mrs. Hudson, John, and Lestrade ended up dead the same night Moriarty went to prison, all in unidentifiable ways.
Sherlock's funeral was well attended and full of people whom he had helped along with his homeless network who had shown up to paid their respects. The entire Yard had shown up, showing remorse and were apologetic while Sherlock's family as well as John received condolences.
Back in a hidden apartment in London, Gabriel carried the now healed body of the real Sherlock Holmes into his bedroom. He had retrieved it before the morgue had gone through it, leaving behind an organic exact replica of it as a replacement and something to bury.
Two weeks after he had fallen from the roof of St. Bart's, Sherlock woke up.
