To die was an art

~ Sherlock's point of view ~

As soon as John had followed me into the car he started asking me questions. Loads of questions. And although most of them were irrelevant for the case "Moriarty is back" I listened patiently to every single one of them. Not because I was interested in their content, but because I was happy on a level words couldn't even hope to describe.

I didn't lose John. He was here with me, excited, nosy and lovely as ever. I was sitting next to him, so close that I could have held his hand if I hadn't been able to control myself. So close I could have stolen a kiss...

"Sherlock", John insisted as I kept staring at him without a reply, "What is going on here? Tell me about your thoughts. You usually don't need to be asked like this, you need to be stopped from talking. So what is on your mind?"

It took me a second to realize that he was talking about the case and not my real thoughts. Of course. How could he have known?

But what I didn't understand was why he kept insisting on me to tell him what Moriarty's plans were. He hadn't been interested at all when I had survived...

~ John's point of view ~

How could he possibly do this to me? I had barely even been able to talk before, I could just stare at Sherlock, those red eyes, his exhausted face. He almost couldn't walk!

How long had he been gone? Like 10 minutes and look what he had done to himself... just to solve some stupid case that was about a hundred years old? I couldn't have lost him, not again. I had lost him once already, and seeing him dead again was definatly not an option. He couldn't die. He was Sherlock Holmes! He always survived somehow, no idea how, but he did. But taking those drugs... it was a medical thing, chemistry. He couldn't trick that...

But I didn't want to talk to him about it, at least not now. I had just seen how he had reacted to his own brother and I didn't want to be in the same position. It was a tensed topic. So I decided to do us both a favour and talk about Moriarty. Not that Sherlock wasn't my priority, he was, (and if I could I would have taken him in my arms to tell him all would be fine, while I would nurse him back to health), but I had to talk about something else now. For Sherlock's best and my own as well.

"As I said, Moriarty's back."

"Yes, Sherlock, you have made that pretty clear. But at the same time you said he was dead. How could that be possible?"

Sherlock considered himself married to his work. And it was true. He loved our investigations, he didn't even try to hide his excitement (which I admired so much) at all. So if there was something that could drag his attention away it was a case.

"Moriarty died as a Martyr, John. Just like Emilia Ricoletti he was part of a group that would continue his work after his death. He would always exist as an idea of perfect crime and danger in our heads, and that's also what's coming up to us. I thought I had killed every single person that stood behind him, but it seems I have overlooked a few people. And what they plan to do is pretty simple."

"What's that?"

"Why kill me of course."

"Then why are we going to Baker Street? Isn't that where they'd look for you first?"

I was alarmed now. Going back? He couldn't be serious. They'd be waiting for us, it'd be a trap and we'd run into it! They'd kill Sherlock... no, I wouldn't allow that. If I had to... I'd kill them first.

"Precisely. No matter what awaits us there, it will show us who we are dealing with."

"In case it doesn't kill you before you can even take a peak", Mary said, sitting in the front seat.

"Mary's right,

"Have you forgotten who we're dealing with? It's Moriarty, he's a criminal mastermind, but most of all, like me. And as you have so politely mentioned once, John: I am a drama queen, and so is Moriarty. He won't kill me at once, otherwise he would have already. Why would he have put his face like an advertisement on every screen in the UK? He wanted attention. He could have killed me easilly, if he had wanted to, blow up the plane for instance, but he didn't. No, something bigger is coming up to us and I bet it's all made for me, all to make me suffer. For what reason ever."

Yes, it made sense, like most things Sherlock said. But on the other hand it was Moriarty whom we were talking about. What if he played some kind of twisted mind double hand game thing? What if he knew that Sherlock would think exactly the way he did and had included that in his plan? I was still alarmed, but simply nodded. He should know I trusted him, although there were some doubts cought in my throat.

When we arrived at Baker Street Sherlock and I got out of the car. Mary wanted to come along, but I had reminded her on her pregnancy and she finally listened to reason. If it had been just her she, of course, would have taken the risk without the blink of an eye, but we now also had to think of the safety of the child... which made everything even more complicated... but I couldn't think about my feelings for Sherlock right now. He was standing right next to me, which made me shiver, but... I was married to Mary, now. Sherlock had been gone, I had moved on. And now that he was back... the feelings for him which I had tried to fight so hard were, too. I thought they'd go away when building up a life with Mary, but they didn't and... sigh, everything was so complicated!

"Shall we?", Sherlock smiled in an adventurous way and I just couldn't help but say "Yes". The case. Moriarty. That was all that mattered now. Not dying. Keeping Sherlock safe. I checked the gun in the bag of my jacket. I would have done everything that it took for that man.

~Sherlock's point of view~

So we went upstairs, without meeting Mrs. Hudson and her irritating comments, which was conspicious enough already. She usually only needed to hear the front door opening and she knew we were here. Maybe she was busy. But with what should she be busy?

I opened the door and started to look around immediately. If there was a bomb or something (yes, the organisation Moriarty didn't want to kill me, but that didn't mean they wouldn't hurt me or John) I had to find it before we'd get hurt. They surely have put some hints for me, and they also left some they didn't know of. But many things seemed to be just normal. The books on my shelf were all in the same order as before, the pictures on the wall and the armchairs haven't been moved, John sat in one of them, the lamps were just as I had left them and... John? John was back here! Memories came back to my mind, memories of all the great times we had, and each one started with us sitting there... and now he did again. I felt like in one of those flashbacks I had watched over and over again in my mindpalace, but this time it was different. It was real! But it somehow felt surreal too. I was tended to touch him to know I wasn't fantasizing... what was the big deal about it anyway? He would just think about it as part of my method, another freaky quirk of mine. So as I moved on walking through the room, I slightly brushed his shoulder with my hand and wanted to let go and continue as I realized what was different. One of my laptops stood opened on the table. It was still switched of, but I know I hadn't placed it there, so it must have been some of Moriarty's henchmen. Before I let go, I shortly felt John's hand on mine, as he asked in a tone I interpreted as worry: "Sherlock, what's wrong? Have you found something?"

I would have cheered of joy if this discovery hadn't been so important.

"My laptop. Why my laptop?", I murmered as I lifted it and turned it around, looked at it from all sides and angles, "They could have left a note but they didn't... what can a laptop be useful for? Maybe they have turned the battery into the bomb or..."

"Maybe you should switch it on?", John suggested.

Yes! Yes that was it! My smart John, what would I do without him?

So I did as he had said, but it didn't show my usual background, but a collage of John and me as.. as animals. John was a dog, sitting on his armchair just as he did now and me as a raven, staring cluelessly at the screen. It was like a mirror, our heads put together with the animals' bodies like a collage, and all entitled in capital letters with: IT'S GREAT TO HAVE A TRACKING DOG WHEN YOU'RE SO VAIN AND COMPLICATED IT MAKES YOU DULL, AIN'T I RIGHT, SHERLOCK?

I looked at John who seemed to be as shocked as I felt. This was designed to hurt me, to make me scared. Unfortunately, and I would have never admitted that in front of John, it did his work. They did know how everything would take place, they knew I wouldn't know that I had to switch on the laptop (which actually wasn't too surprising after Moriarty having stated already that I was searching for the twisted things which was my biggest flaw), but what really made my hair stand on end was how much they knew about John...

Suddenly we heard screams from downstairs. Choked cries, like through a gag, behind a door. Mrs. Hudson!

I dropped the latop at once and ran down the stairs. By the sound of his feet on the wood I knew John was following me.

"Mrs. Hudson?!", I shouted. She must have been here somewhere. But where? "Come on, Mrs. Hudson, make a sound!"

I heard something like a "mmmm! Mm mm!" and followed that. It led me to a door. I tried to open it, but it was locked.

"Where's the key?", I wheeled around and looked to every corner of the kitchen. No key...

"I will look for it", John said and started to search the floor. But there was no time... I prepared myself to burst the door open. So I started to run, but...

"Oh Sherlock!", I heard a way too familiar voice from upstairs, "You don't really want to open that door, do you?"

Moriarty? I looked at John who seemed to be as confused as I was. It was his voice. It definitely was. But how? The laptop, of course...

"You know where I am, come on, don't let me wait..."

What if this now was a trap? Mrs. Hudson was in danger... maybe we would be in danger going upstairs. Choice! I had to make a choice!

"Oh Sherlock! Time is passing, tick, tock, tick, tock, but is it a clock?"

A bomb. Somewhere was a bomb. I ran out of the kitchen. He'd tell me where it was. That's why he wanted me upstairs. A riddle, a case. Something like that, something to solve. That was Moriarty. He wouldn't let me die that easily. Right?

"We will come back and set you free, Mrs. Hudson", I heard John say behind me as I was already flying up the stairs to the apartment.

I slowed down when I arrived at the top. Whoever they were, they shouldn't see my fear. It wasn't James Moriarty himself, that much I knew. But that new enemy surely worked the same way. I wouldn't hand them over the superior role just like that. I was going to act as if all was just fine, as if I hadn't been touched the slightest bit.