Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Genre: Mystery/Horror
Rating: Teen (Fiction T)
Chapter: Three of five
Word count: 1900
Warnings: Major Character Death, Mild language conform show standard.

Disclaimer: BBC Sherlock is not mine. There would be far more episodes if it was. I just borrow the characters and let them die. Because that's what people DO.
Summary: Life with Sherlock Holmes was an endless source of unexpected twists and turns leading to the most bizarre situations. This was certainly one of them.

Author notes: Some of you may have noticed that I added an extra chapter to the whole story. The overall story hasn't changed, but I broke up this chapter in two parts. It was too long and I couldn't give some elements of the story the emphasis I wanted to. Also, I may, or may not, have written part of this chapter while Sesame Street was playing in the background. Don't judge me.

As always I want to thank my wonderful beta readers: Alex, Peggy and Tami. You guys are awesome and I wouldn't be able to produce this level of quality without your critical eye. Thank you for spending so much time on this project.

Chapter three - Did you miss me?

John had only one thing on his mind as he ran up the stairs of 221B Baker Street two steps at a time: Sherlock. Was he okay? Was he safe? John burst into the living room.

"Sherlock?!"

He stopped dead in his tracks. In the dim lighting of the flat he could barely make out the silhouette of the person sitting in Sherlock's chair. He blinked when he recognized Mary. One of her arms was casually hanging over the armrest while she toyed with a phone in her other hand.

John tilted his head. Had she changed her clothes? She hadn't been wearing all black this morning, had she? He was quite sure that would have stood out to him.

"Mary?"

"Hello, John."

"Where is Sherlock? Did he text you, too?" John looked around the flat, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. There was no sign of the detective. As a matter of fact, nothing seemed to have changed in the few hours he had been out. His eyes fell on the doors to the kitchen. Why were they closed?

He stepped towards the kitchen. "Is he here?" He asked as he reached to open the doors. Behind him was a loud click. He spun around. Mary was holding a gun, aimed at him. How had he bloody missed that? Some soldier he was.

"Ah, good. Now I have your attention." She used the gun to urge John towards the couch.

He kept his hands slightly raised at his sides. Mary looked like she was looking for a reason to shoot him and he wasn't going to give her one. He slowly moved forward, glancing over his wife's cold exterior. His eyes rested on the phone in her hand. His eyes narrowed as he recognized Sherlock's phone.

"What's going on?"

"Sit down."

"I don't want to sit down."

"Mary, darling. He doesn't have to sit if he doesn't want to." A familiar voice came from the kitchen. One of the doors slid open and a sleek figure stepped into the living room. John's back went rigid and his hands balled into fists as he recognized Moriarty.

"Ah, John. Did you miss me?"

"No, I can't say I did."

"Oh, don't be like that." Moriarty wandered into the room, his finger tracing over the mantelpiece as he walked by, leaving a trail in the dust. He stopped at the skull and looked up. "Would you mind getting the lights?"

John's face hardened as he adopted a military stance, clasping his hands behind his back. He'd be damned if he was going to do anything for this monster. If he wanted more light, he would have to do it himself.

Moriarty rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the skull. His hand rested on it before he picked it up, studying it for a moment. His fingertips almost lovingly caressed the bare skull.

"Do you think Alexander the Great looked like this? Or Napoleon? Thatcher maybe?" He didn't take his eyes of it as he spoke. "You know, after the flesh clears off."

"Just the same." Mary chuckled at John's answer. He ignored her as he followed Moriarty's every move. Moriarty held the skull closer to his face, closing his eyes as he sharply inhaled through his nose. His eyes opened when he exhaled.

"Oh, the smell." There was a twinkle in his eye as he held the skull out to John. "You should try it, it's… intoxicating."

John fought the urge to step back. There was something about this scene that made his stomach turn, but he couldn't put a finger on what it was. He tore his gaze away from the skull. Moriarty was grinning at him. John clenched his jaw. He wasn't afraid of this man and damn it, he was going to show that.

"No, thank you."

Moriarty shrugged. "Your loss." He faced the skull again.

John looked at Mary. She seemed to be rather enjoying herself, judging by the smug look on her face. John closed his eyes and took a steady breath. He couldn't afford to lose his head now.

"You know, this skull had a tongue once." John's eyes snapped open. Moriarty held the skull close to his face, his lips hovering over the teeth. His head tilted like he was going to kiss it. "Said the cleverest things, too. Extraordinary. Exciting." His eyes lingered on the empty eye sockets. He sighed and looked down as his shoulders dropped. "Not anymore, though."

John frowned at the sudden change in demeanor. His eyes followed the skull as Moriarty lowered it. What in God's name was going on?

"Haven't you ever wondered who this was? A lawyer? A jester, maybe?" He raised the skull to eye level again, holding it at an arm's length. "Or… a detective?"

John's chest suddenly felt tight as his breath got caught in his throat. His eyes shot back at Moriarty. What did he just say? Surely he had heard it wrong.

"A detective!" A wide smile spread over Moriarty's face. He slowly inhaled as he looked at John. The look on his face was one of pure excitement and it was terrifying. A shiver went down John's spine. He stared at the skull. Could that be…? His mouth went dry. He tried to retain his composure, but his breath became shaky.

"Oh my god…" He whispered. "Sherlock…"

"I really thought his skull would be bigger."

Was that disappointment? John did his best to keep his breathing under control as anger flooded through him. He released his hands, his shoulders tensed.

"Why?"

Mary straightened in the chair slightly, but Moriarty didn't seem too impressed by John's change in posture.

"Oh, John, I always said I'd kill him one day. He was fun to have around, playing our little game…"

John's phone rang, interrupting Moriarty's speech. John felt the vibrations against his chest, but ignored it.

"Aren't you going to get that?"

"I'm in the middle of something."

"Please, I insist."

John held Moriarty's gaze as he answered the call. "Yes?"

"John, it's Greg." His voice sounded raw and John could make out a slight tremor. He knew what was going on before Greg could even continue.

"He's dead, isn't he?" John said quietly. "You found him."

"Well, yes… I'm sorry, John." Both men were both silent for a moment.

John inhaled sharply and closed his eyes. He had to know, even if he didn't really want to know. "Decapitated? Head missing?"

There was another moment of silence on the other side of the line. "How did you…"

John opened his eyes and caught sight of Moriarty. He was just standing there, with one hand in his pocket while he weighed the skull in the other, and he was smiling. Fucking smiling. John felt his rage building, his muscles tensing.

"Moriarty is here." John lowered the phone. He was going to kill this man with his bare hands. Slowly and painfully, and he was going to enjoy every single second of it. He moved closer. Mary cleared her throat, reminding John of the position he was in. Moriarty didn't seem very impressed. He rolled his eyes.

"Still so touchingly loyal."

John tore his gaze away from Moriarty and made eye contact with his wife instead. She was still sitting in the chair with the gun. He was fairly certain she was aiming for his previously injured shoulder.

"You knew…"

"Oh, John, of course I knew. Who do you think made Sherlock disappear in the first place?" She tilted her head and smiled. John's eyes narrowed.

"He found out."

"He obviously thought he figured it out. He came to offer me help." The smile finally reached her eyes. Moriarty chuckled.

"It was quite touching, how he was convinced she was just caught up in between. So desperately trying to believe she was somehow on your side. I never thought I would live to see the day when Sherlock Holmes fell prey to sentiment. A dangerous disadvantage indeed."

Moriarty put the skull back on the mantelpiece.

John balled his hands into fists as it took him all the willpower he had to not launch himself at Moriarty. Getting himself killed wasn't going to bring Sherlock back, nor help him get justice. He needed to keep it together, somehow. His eyes rested on Mary.

"Why?"

"The real question is, why not?"

John looked at Moriarty. "I wasn't talking to you. I was talking to Mary."

It was a small victory, but it felt good. John was quite pleased with himself for his little retaliation. He looked back at Mary, who gave him another sickeningly sweet smile.

"Because he asked me to. Nicely."

"You should put that on a T-shirt." John didn't take his eye off her. Her smile widened but there was no reply.

Moriarty chuckled as he moved past Sherlock's chair towards the window. John followed his movements from the corner of his eye.

"I told Sherlock what I had planned. He didn't seem to care much."

The corner of John's mouth twitched into a smile. It was good to hear that in the end Sherlock hadn't given Moriarty what he wanted so badly. He could hear Sherlock's voice in his head. 'Dull, boring, predictable.'

Moriarty moved the curtains aside and looked down at the people passing on the street below. Those ordinary people, having no clue what was happening in the scruffy little flat above them. They were just leading their ordinary lives. John almost envied them.

"Then I mentioned you." Moriarty looked back at John. He slipped a hand in his pocket and let the curtain fall in place again. "He begged me to leave you alone, not to hurt you. It was disappointing. Wasn't it, Mary, dear?"

"It rather was, but to be fair, you did go into excruciating detail of what was going to happen."

John looked at his wife. His cold, heartless wife who took everything from him. He clenched his jaw and his eyes darkened. She didn't seem impressed.

Moriarty threw his head back and let out an excited laugh.

"I did, didn't I?" John and Moriarty locked eyes and there was a moment of silence in which Moriarty studied John's face with a newfound curiosity.

"Is it true you still keep your British Army L9A1 in the top drawer of your desk?"

John blinked. What?

"Oh, who am I kidding? I know you do." Moriarty let out another chuckle. He moved back into the room towards Mary. "I think it's time to leave now, don't you?"

Mary nodded and shifted in the chair.

Moriarty strolled towards the door, pausing in the doorway before turning back.

"Bye bye, Johnny boy. Don't do anything I wouldn't do." His hands formed an imaginary gun that he put in his mouth. His head made a jerking motion, as if he was blowing his own brains out.

John's eyes grew wide and a shiver went down his spine. He did his best to hide his reaction, but Moriarty smiled as he noticed the effect the gesture had. He threw one last look at the skull on the mantelpiece and walked out the door.

John's attention was drawn by the sound of Mary getting to her feet. She stood up remarkably faster than John was used to the last couple of weeks. There was nothing left of her slow and clumsy manner earlier in the day.

She circled around the table, keeping her weapon aimed at his shoulder.

"Goodbye, John." She backed out of the door, and disappeared into the darkness.

Author note: Thank you for reading and supporting my writing. Don't forget to leave a comment to let me know what you think. You can expect the next update to be on Wednesday April 12th.