Showdown in the Darkness
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Summary: Sherlock faces his newest and most dangerous foe yet.
Rating: T
AU for obvious reasons
Disclaimer: Characters and Sherlock do not belong to me, but to Moffat, Sir A.C. Doyle and all associated thus. I am responsible for creating the alternate universe, the OCs, and the storyline only. Please do not take and use or post elsewhere without my permission.
xXx
Afterwards, Sherlock knows, he will revisit the sheer stupidity of what he does next. For now, he embraces the woman before him as tightly as he can, her false realm crumbling around them. "Banshee!" he claims loudly, and pitches both of them over the side of the roof they're suddenly standing on.
Distantly, he can hear John's screaming. "SHERLOCK!"
Then all he knows is agony, followed by the return of her imaginary world. The two of them are standing almost twenty feet apart now, hazel-and-black eyes wide as they stare at him.
"...you're mad," she says in Molly's voice, with Molly's face. "You've killed yourself, and for nothing. I won't die."
Sherlock smirks at her, trying to catch his breath. The pain is there, still, he knows, even if he can't feel it. "Neither myself nor Molly will die, if you take our place."
Her laugh is incredulous. "Die? Why would I?"
Sherlock doesn't let himself drop the charade, just holds up his hands and shrugs. "Why else? You hear the whispers too. Worse, I should think, as they're your victims."
Her expression tells him that he's right on the money, so that gamble paid off nicely. He doesn't let her speak, doesn't let her react, because the next few heartbeats are far too important to waste. Instead, he's already taking a step when the last word has left his mouth, walking toward her as she gapes at him. Molly half raises her arms when his fingers curl around the balls of her shoulders, but she doesn't do anything just yet.
"Look into my eyes," he murmurs.
She does, and the darkness crumbles. He blinks it away to find himself on the rooftop again, flat on his back with Molly curled over his middle. She's still far too pale, but her skin is warm when he touches it. Warm and soft.
Sherlock breathes a sigh of relief.
xXx
"What did she see?" John asks him later, after the explanations are through, the joking is done and Molly has been carted off to the hospital. She's fine, Sherlock's fine, everyone's fine. Mycroft had complained for an hour about Sherlock not telling anyone what he was planning, because it made it very hard to coordinate. Of course. But… they're all alive and getting better.
Now, the pair of them are taking a taxi home. "That reminds me," Sherlock says, pulling out his phone. He sends a text to Anthea, promising repayment if she sends him blackmail on Mycroft. She responds immediately, saying she'll think about it. He adds a line about Prada, and she emails him some photos. When Sherlock glances up, John is watching him intently. "What?"
His vampire flatmate just sighs. "Fine," he says, and leans forward to tap the cabby's window. "Morgue."
"Yessir," is the response.
Sherlock tries to follow him out when they get there, but John turns and leans in, face mere inches from the consultant's. "This is private."
"But it's interesting," Sherlock protests.
John's expression is warm; soft at the edges. "What did she see?"
The human's breath catches in his throat. He can't answer for a second, overcome with indignance and a little spike of terror. He squashes it, and glares up at the blond. "That- that's cheating."
"I'll be home later," John replies, smile unchanging. He closes the door between them and disappears.
Sherlock broods the whole way home.
xXx
Many apologies for taking so long to update! Thanks and chapter dedication go to Tamuril2, for the entertaining review and the interest! Thanks so much!