Meanwhile, Sherlock wasn't having any luck.
"I knew you weren't dead." Moriarty mocked with an evil sneer.
"Leave John alone!" Sherlock yelled and pointed at him.
"Oh, I won't hurt John. Not when I have someone so much better to play with." Moriarty chuckled.
"And who might that be?"
"Oh, Don't pretend I didn't play matchmaker. I knew you would save her."
"Irene." Sherlock mumbled under his breath, then smirked slightly.
"What?!" Moriarty demanded with a fierce face. "There's no way you've outsmarted me this time!" Mori yelled at the top of his lungs.
"Oh, but you see, I have. Because, I may not be dead, but you are. I have Irene and John locked away in the TARDIS."
Moriarty laughed manically. "Yes, but here I'm alive. I can bypass any security system, you know that."
"Yes, any security system. But not alien security systems." Sherlock smirked, pulling a gun from his jacket. "Go to hell." He muttered as he pulled the trigger, and the bullet flew through Moriarty as if he was a cloud. But Moriarty turned into an image of him, -well not technically him- lying on the ground, blood covering his body, and John racing to his side.
For once in his life, Sherlock knew what pain felt like. He could feel it throbbing in his chest like a knife plunged straight into his heart.
"You're an evil bitch!" Sherlock screamed into the air, musing the thought that Moriarty was still listening, as tears threatened to spill over in his eyes.
All there was, was a darkness for a few minutes, before a shrill laugh from Mori came through the thick blackness. "And he finally admits it. I must say, it feels good to have said it out loud, doesn't it?" His cackle could break bones, and his smile could cut paper, as he became visible again, only to have Sherlock shoot him once more. But the same thing happened, only this time, Moriarty turned into a projection of John visiting his gravestone.
Sherlock stood there, frozen. He couldn't move, and not by his own doing. He literally couldn't move, no matter how hard he tried. What was happening to him?
"What have you done to me?" He yelled.
"I haven't done anything. Have you forgotten the ground on which you stand?" He rose an eyebrow, his voice cutting through the foggy place, when all of a sudden, the place on which he stood, somehow turned into Baker Street.
"I'm in the Twilight Zone! I'm not on Baker street!" He tried to convince himself, but everything seemed so real here, and he was suddenly released from whatever was holding him.
"Sherlock? Is that you?" John asked, walking out of the door marked 221B, as Sherlock stood frozen on the doorstep.
Sherlock shook his head, grabbing at his dark curls. "No! No! It's not me! I'm not really here!"
John looked confused, never seeing the detective break down this much. "Of course you are! What are you talking about? Come inside, Mrs. Hudson's made tea."
But Sherlock just sat there, shaking his head. "No! No! It's not real!" He yelled, running off into the road, hoping that if he died in the dream, he would wake up where he really was; The Twilight Zone.
"Sherlock!" John yelled at him, but it was to late, a red bus had already hit him.
John ran out to the road, and the bus driver had stopped the bus to see if he was okay. Sherlock was dead. Again. Except, he wasn't. He was dead in a sense, but he could still feel and see everything that was going on around him. Why didn't it work? Why was he still here? He should have gone back to the Twilight Zone by now. Except, he was wrong. He was already in the Twilight Zone, everything around him was just a delusion.
"And there's John, having to watch you die. Again." Moriarty was mumbling into his ear.
No, No, No! Sherlock's head screamed, but he couldn't get the words out, they just sat on his lips like the biter taste of black coffee. Coffee? Sherlock could taste it as plain as day. I hate coffee. Suddenly, his head went blank, and Sherlock blacked out.