Hi, Dears,

Thank you for still reading. Originally I planned to update more frequent this story, but you know, life...

So thank you for again your kind words and encouragement. I really means a lot. I am so happy that I am connected in a way to such nice and generous people. Thank you.

I want to thank especially to my dear friend Succi, who is always there and has something deep and attentive to say. And Oswin, you made me smile every time. Thanks, I wish I could pm back to you. ;)

So this is a longer one, because you deserve it. I hope you'll enjoy it.

As Sherlock left the small, comfy bedroom, things sped up. He was halfway down the stairs when he heard a large thump and John's objecting moan. The detective doubled his pace on the old teak steppes.

Now, there was no turn back from the plan. He knew he risked a lot. Everything had to be precise and foreseen.

He entered the living room with a stoned calm expression on his face though it was the very opposition of how his mind was on the rampage. As he observed the room with narrowed eyes, storing every information about the people and the object, he found John lying on the floor with one gun at his temple, breathing heavily. The other henchman was restraining Anthea by her hair and was holding a gun against her head. She was kneeling on the worn carpet next to the mantle with a bruise on her left cheek and a short cut above her eye.

'Sorry Sherlock, 'the detective heard John saying in a husky, broken voice as he noticed his friend.

'Honey, I'm home.' The figure standing next to the window, showing his back laughed. 'Now tell me you didn't miss me.' Moriarty turned to face the detective with a wide smile. His body was tensed but his eyes were fleshing.

'I didn't miss you,' Sherlock shrugged and said slowly in a flat voice with one raised eyebrow pacing towards the middle of the room never taking his eyes off his enemy.

'Aah-ha-haa. Of course you didn't miss me.' Moriarty turned towards the room with a large grin. 'You are playing on mature field now, don't you? Former CIA agents, politics, guns, murder,' he emphasized the last word.' Oh and yes, let's not forget sex. Our mousy pathologist is quite an enthusiastic one, isn't she?' Sherlock stood there still not saying a world. He had to stay calm, he knew but he knew it wouldn't be easy.

'Isn't she?' The madman now shouted. 'Answer me!' He strode into the middle of the room close to Sherlock, and took out his gun to point at John's skull. 'Answer. Me.' He hissed.

Sherlock swallowed hard. His eyes flickered to his friend's and he saw his fear. The same fear he felt, not for himself but for the ones who were dear to him. He slowly opened his mouth and whispered,. 'Yes.'

'Sorry, I didn't hear you clear.' Moriarty frowned at Sherlock pushing the gun behind John's ears so strong the army doctor groaned.

'Yes, yes she is,' he exclaimed stepping forward slightly lifting his hand in objection.

'Now there, it's better.' Moriarty straightened, and walked around the detective gesticulating widely with the gun. 'You know I was thinking. Where is the trap? Your brother practically sends me the location of this place, you are waiting for me not properly prepared, and clearly not with enough help. So tell me, where is the trap?'

Sherlock looked deep into his enemy's eyes and spoke slowly and firmly. 'There's no trap. I'm here to surrender. You want me, don't you?' He narrowed his eyes as he was observing the other.

John stirred. 'What? No, Sherlock don't...oh my God,' he whispered swooningly but a light kick into his side told him it was not a wise decision.

'Hmm, honey, I thought you'd never ask.' His grin fell as he started to circle around the detective. 'You offer me your life in exchange letting them go.' He stopped. 'How noble. Oh wait, it's no-ot,' he sang. 'Haha. You were just about to march into your own death and I SAVED you.'

'Why?' Sherlock frowned tilting his head.

'I don't know,' Moriarty sang. 'You're not even that much fun.' He pouted then pretended to be deep in his thoughts. 'But you have something I am very interested in.'

He nodded towards the man who held John. The guard straightened up and with a hum turned towards the stairs. John, feeling the gun disappearing from his head, stirred.

'Down boy,' Moriarty said in a playful tone as he pushed him lower with his foot on his back and a gun on his temple. John growled but stayed.

When they heard creaking the steps under two pairs of feet, they both turned their attention towards the newcomers. The guard held Molly strongly by an arm around her neck. Her dishevelled hair was spread across her face and she was obviously fighting against crying as the man was dragging her into the living room.

Sherlock's jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed but he stayed still. Moriarty chuckled looking back and forth between them. 'Molly, Molly, Molly.' He shook his head. 'I was so hurt when I realised that you had just used me to get the great Sherlock's Holmes' attention. Didn't you consider my feelings for you?' His voice was full of faked resentfullness.

Molly blushed in shame and anger. She stole an apologising look towards Sherlock who merely sook his head encouragingly. 'This boyfriend of yours says he exchanges his life for yours.'

Molly's expression first became confused then desperate. Her eyes were searching for Sherlock's but he was clearly avoided eye-contact. 'What...? Sherlock? What's going on?'

'Ah-ah-aaah! Brilliant! This wasn't part of the plan, was it, Molly dear? He had told you that with some heroic action he would take me down and you would live happily ever after, hadn't he? Sherlock, you naughty boy. Tsk-tsk.' Moriarty laughed so pleased with himself he barely could stop. 'You pets are so amusing, you know.'

Tears were filling Molly's eyes as she stared at the consulting criminal. Anger rose on her face and with a sudden movement she drew herself out of the henchmen's grip with a scream and with an unexpected speed she appeared in front of Moriarty. Her palm was so quick, he was surprised to recieve a relatively huge slap from the small woman. But before the second one the guard came and grabbed her and pushed her to the wall with his large hand on her throat. Molly's eyes widened in fear and her breathing became difficult.

'Put her down,' Moriarty's voice wasn't playful anymore but even and calm his hand massaging his cheek. 'You know what Sherlock? I accept your offer. You die, they can leave. I promise, I evwn give my word.' His grin went wide but faded away immediately.

'I need insurance,' Sherlock's voice was flat his eyes constantly flicking towards Molly.

'No, you don't.' Moriarty shook his head as he was pulling out his phone from his pocket with a smug smile and turned it to show the screen to Sherlock. 'Say hello to Mummy and Daddy Holmes.' Sherlock face darkened as he saw the live picture of his parents on the back seat of a car with darkened windows. They obviously were scared but tried to act calm and endure the whole thing with dignity. 'If my men don't get a sign from me in two hours, well, let's say they won't have to worry about anymore if they got their pension in time.'

'Oh, Jesus!' John sighed in aggravation seeing his best friend's expression.

'Oh yes. As you all see, I was really throughout.' Moriarty paced up and down in the small living room pretending to be deep in his thoughts. 'Sooo, as I previously mentioned, I am willing to accept your offer, Sherlock. With only one condition.' He turned to face the detective with a cruel smile than took a second gun from his belt. He nodded to the man holding Molly who had stopped to fight long ago and now was just standing fast and staring in front of herself with deep purple fingerprints on her neck.

The guard lead Molly to his boss. Moriarty reached out and held the gun to her smiling with fake kindness. 'Kill him.'

Molly slowly lifted her glassy eyes and slightly shook her head in disbelief. 'No, no, please don't,' she whispered. But as she followed Jim's look she gasped. The other guard who held Anthea lowered his gun to point at her growing belly.

'If she'll be lucky enough she will die immediately.' Moriarty's flat voice froze the blood in Molly's veins. She slowly turned towards Sherlock with the question in her eyes. Sherlock looked broken. His straight posture dropped, dark bags under his tired eyes appeared.

'I'm sorry Molly, so sorry. I didn't know...' He gulped hard. 'You have to do this. Please. It's the deal.'

'No, I can't, I'd rather die myself.' Molly sobbed.

'Please, be strong, Molly. Take the gun. Please, I owe this to my brother and John and you.' Sherlock was almost crying too, his voice was broken and tears began to fill his eyes, but gave a heartening smile to her.

Molly took the gun with a shaking hand. She held it like it was the most disgusting thing in the world.

'Ah, God. Could you be more melodramatic?' Moriarty remarked in a bored tone. 'Do it!' He shouted. Molly slowly folded her fingers on the cold metal and lifted pointing at the consulting criminal's direction.

'Not a good idea,' the guard spoke next to her nodding towards Anthea. Moriarty was just smiling his wide satisfied smile. Sherlock shook his head as he stepped forward and spread his arms slightly to let better admittance to his body. Molly looked at him from behind tears.

'Right in his heart, dear, just to be stylish.' Moriarty somehow appeared behind her and whispered in her ear. 'Don't worry, if you miss the target you can try again,' he sang before chuckled and Molly felt her stomach turn. Till this point she had felt some kind of sorry for him. She had thought there had to be a little good in his possibly very wounded and lonely heart. But now she only wanted to see him finished off.

Molly glanced at Anthea, then back at Sherlock. With uncertain hold she pointed the gun at Sherlock. Her hands were shaking violently and she was fighting not to close her eyes but to find Sherlock's. He looked miserable but his eyes fixed on her were calm and warm and told Molly what she had to know.

Suddenly she was aware of everything, her senses became sharp and precise. She knew exactly that she had to be very quick. As she pulled the trigger she briefly heard John's shouting and Moriarty's hysterical laugh. She stumbled forward to get hold on the sofa dropping the gun far from her dangling hand. She saw Sherlock lying on the floor motionless, with his face half down. She so wanted to reach him, to touch him, but she knew she couldn't. It all went silent except the consulting criminal's laughter when suddenly a phone in the room buzzed indicating a text message. The sound came from Sherlock's coat pocket.

I know. I know. Next one will be up sooner. The end is near, hopefully in time too.

Let me know if you are still interested. ;) Thanks for reading.

Lanceletta