Author Note: Sorry for the long wait again. The semester was busier than I expected. I'll start working on the next chapter but I won't make any more promises of not taking too long.
Didn't mean to but I followed L a lot in this chapter, more so than the others. It just turned out that way. I think it still works though.
PLEASE REVIEW! PLEASE! EVEN IF IT'S SOMETHING SIMPLE!
Warning: Spoilers for Series 2 and 3
Disclaimer: Death Note and its characters belong to Tsugumi Ohba while Sherlock and its characters belong to Arthur Conan Doyle, Mark Gatiss and Steven Mofatt
Chapter 10: The Unusual Finale
It all started when the name Sherlock Holmes flooded the newspapers. Recovering a famous painting, rescuing a kidnapped banker and other cases of such a scale thrust Sherlock right into the spotlight and suddenly everyone's eyes were on him.
It was certainly a drastic change from the usual but Sherlock wasn't bothered by it…at least he wasn't until a deerstalker became his trademark and he was given the name "Boffin" Sherlock Holmes. John was amused but then he learned of his own nickname.
"Bachelor John Watson? What the hell are they implying?"
L watched the two grumble to themselves over the whole thing, silently relieved he had evaded the press' eye. John and Sherlock had naturally realized such cases would garner a lot of attention and had decided to spare L that at that point in time. However, L was sure they had underestimated just how much attention it would be. John was certainly regretting it now.
"Okay, this is too much. We need to be more careful."
"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked, still messing about with the hat.
"I mean that you're not exactly a private detective any more. You're close to famous."
"It'll pass." Sherlock finally flung the deerstalker away and slumped into his chair, not sparing it another thought or glance. He brought his hands together in his typical thinking pose.
"It'd better pass. The press will turn, Sherlock. They always turn, and they'll turn on you." John leaned forward, pleading with his eyes for Sherlock to listen to him.
L couldn't help but flinch at that. John was right. The press was so fickle with everything. They didn't care about those they wrote about, not really. There might be a few that did but the goal was to write whatever interested the people most. It was a mad scramble for the best story. If that meant tearing apart the reputation of a once loved detective, well, L was sure they wouldn't hesitate.
Sherlock didn't seem inclined to take John's words seriously enough. He didn't simply disregard them though.
"It really bothers you what people say." The detective met John's gaze, taking in all the little details. John paused a moment at the soft tone.
"Yes."
"About me?" John nodded, fondness starting to creep into his gaze. "I don't understand. Why would it upset you?"
There was an undertone of bemusement and vulnerability that was almost undetectable. It seemed John did detect it though. His tension faded and his expression softened.
"Because I'm your friend, Sherlock."
Sherlock's confused frown wasn't a surprise really but it was still sad to see. The simple concept of friends shouldn't be foreign to Sherlock but it was and that revealed a lot about his life before.
"Even if what people say doesn't bother you, I still don't want to hear anyone disgrace you. I don't want anyone making up things to slander your name. I want you to get the respect and recognition you deserve but not at such a risk."
"You'd feel the same if it was my name dragged through the mud, wouldn't you?"
Sherlock's mouth opened instantly but the no doubt quick, witty response he had in mind never made it to words. Instead, it was a couple moments before a slow response broke the silence.
"Yes…I suppose I would."
He seemed mystified by his own words and though that hurt to hear, L was glad Sherlock accepted it enough to confess that. Since the Baskerville case, Sherlock had started trying to wrap his mind around just what it meant to care for someone, watching John and L and analyzing their reactions and behaviors to further his understanding. This was just another learning moment for him.
As if hearing his thoughts, Sherlock glanced his way. L gave him a nod, showing his approval. The man relaxed then turned back to John. Both got a glimpse of the doctor's warm gaze and tender smile directed Sherlock's way before he ducked his head.
"Alright then." He said, folding up the paper in his hands. "Just try to keep a low profile. Find yourself a little case this week. Stay out of the news."
Sherlock stared for a moment but kept whatever he deduced to himself for once. Instead, he gave a small, reassuring smile.
"Alright John."
Unfortunately, it was too late for that.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
They had moved on as best as they could with nightmares filled with flames, pools and sing-song taunts. They never forgot though. It always lingered in their thoughts. Questions of when and where. They got their answers in a text of all things. It was short and simple but it carried so much with it. The way John's face paled when he opened the message for Sherlock had L's heart pounding in his chest. He didn't need to know what it said.
"Sherlock…" John's voice was a touch shaky and that's what got Sherlock to pay attention. John held the phone out to him, fingers holding tight.
"He's back."
The peanut butter and jelly sandwich neatly cut by Mrs. Hudson and filled with more strawberry jam than was technically necessary now sat untouched; L didn't dare take another bite.
If there was any doubt before that Moriarty had a thing for dramatics, there wasn't now. Not only did he break into the Tower of London but he also tried on the crown and waited like a king on his throne for the police to arrest him. Going over the security footage showed he also left a message on the glass before he broke it. Unsurprisingly it was about Sherlock and it was short and to the point, just like the text message.
Get Sherlock.
Moriarty was in custody but L was sure that Sherlock and John shared his doubt over it being the end. The break in and Moriarty's arrest soon reached the papers. The embers of fame burst into flame. Newspapers everywhere talked about it and the name Sherlock Holmes became even better known. There was no escaping it anymore.
Sherlock and John were naturally going to take part in Moriarty's trial; there was no question there. L was torn between wanting to be there and wanting to never see again the living nightmare that was Jim Moriarty. In the end, the choice was made for him. He watched from the entryway as Sherlock and John made for the door. John straightened his suit and adjusted his tie, putting on a strong face. His nerves showed in little shifts and twitches but then were put tightly under wraps as John let the solider in him take over. He noticed L staring and gave a small smile. L didn't return it. He couldn't shake the worry churning in his gut and the slight chill in his veins. Sherlock seemed to have forgotten him entirely. The man stared at the door with a piercing yet distant stare. Once again Moriarty effortlessly became the star in Sherlock's thoughts, taking over each and every one. L was sure that none were positive this time and he couldn't be more grateful for that.
He watched as the two finally ventured out, catching a glimpse of the waiting reporters and police before the door closed behind them. He stood there a moment, staring. He jumped when two hands were suddenly placed on his shoulders. They were gentle and comforting so he wasn't surprised to see Mrs. Hudson smiling down at him.
"Come on dear. I could use some help with my baking."
The promise of sweets lifted his spirit a bit and he gladly accepted her attempts at distracting him. Stirring chocolate chips into the dough then rolling them into shape wasn't really enough to distract his thoughts. The frustration did a bit though. It seemed no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make simple balls out of the dough. Instead, they always had a bit of a point at the ends because of how he held his hands during the rolling. It took a couple attempts with Mrs. Hudson's kindly amused guidance to get it right. It was easy to tell by looking who had rolled which ones but it didn't really matter as long as they came out right.
It was during the making of the second batch that Mrs. Hudson planned to share with the neighbors that she really started talking.
"Don't worry dear." L looked her way as she went about tidying up.
"Sherlock might be a right mess at times with him putting holes in my walls, parading about in a sheet, spreading those foul smells around, putting body parts in the fridge…"
L quietly shaped the next batch as Mrs. Hudson continued on, risking a quick taste of the dough when she wasn't looking. Her huffed yet clearly fond complaints brought a small smile to his face. The woman clearly knew Sherlock well but still loved him regardless. L couldn't help but love the woman for that…also because of her wonderful sweets.
"Oh sorry. I didn't mean to ramble on. What I meant to say was that Sherlock can handle whatever that awful man can do. And, of course John will be there too. There's nothing those two can't do when together."
It certainly seemed that way but… there was nothing else out there quite like Moriarty. It just felt like everyone was a puppet, moving as he gleefully pulled the strings, including Sherlock and John. The trial especially felt that way. Moriarty wouldn't have been arrested unless he wanted to be. Simply knowing that wasn't enough to prepare for whatever he had planned though and that's what worried L the most.
It was a while before John and Sherlock returned to the flat. By then L had moved on from baking to helping clean the kitchen. Mrs. Hudson appreciated the help though she knew it was mostly for distraction. The silence and repetitive scrubbing of counters was soothing in its own way.
He wandered from the kitchen when he heard the front door close. The two were all in their own thoughts so they started up the stairs without noticing him. Mrs. Hudson urged him on with a smile when he hesitated to leave her. He hurried up the stairs, nerves blazing. L's nerves and tension settled a moment when he saw just what he walked in on. He leaned back against the door and smiled.
"Don't do that."
"Do what?"
"You're doing the look again."
"Well, I can't see it, can I?"
It was just the sort of everyday nonsense L needed to see. Things might not be normal with the threat of Moriarty so close but it didn't mean that things would never be okay again. Sherlock and John were still the same as they always were.
"It's my face."
"Yes, and it's doing a thing. You're doing a "we both know what's really going on here" face."
"Well, we do."
"No. I don't, which is why I find The Face so annoying."
Sherlock rolled his eyes then finally spotted L. He was giving him an imploring look. It seemed he wanted L to side with him in the little spat. L was sure that John actually did know what was going on but Sherlock's usual self was throwing him off. Sherlock huffed when L didn't speak up fast enough. He moved on, taking the lightheartedness with him. L already missed it.
"If Moriarty wanted the Jewels, he'd have them. If he wanted those prisoners free, they'd be out on the streets. The only reason he's still in a prison cell right now is because he chose to be there. Somehow this is part of his scheme."
L learned later from John that Sherlock was essentially banned from returning to the trial. His inability to not be a "smart-arse," as John called it, got him in serious trouble. This time L was stuck waiting with Sherlock while John went to see the end of the trial. It was funny in a way to see Sherlock sulking over the whole thing though he was sure the man hadn't regretted it in the moment. He certainly loved to show off. L was glad he decided to stay in the flat though even if it meant L had to deal with his sulking. It was better than being alone. He also liked to think the man did it for his sake.
The sulking didn't last long really as Sherlock got enveloped in his thoughts once again. L didn't mind. He settled in Sherlock's chair and opened a book on chemistry, paying little mind to the detective stretched out on the couch.
The ringing of Sherlock's cell phone a few hours later broke whatever peace they had managed to find. It somehow managed to sound urgent all on its own and brought reality crashing back on them, though he was sure it never really left. L couldn't hear what John was saying but he sat at attention when Sherlock silently hung up and rose from the couch. He put the book down to watch as the detective moved to the kitchen. Sherlock went about putting the kettle on then walked to his room. L stood up and continued to watch, perplexed.
It wasn't until the detective returned to the kettle with a jacket on instead of his dressing gown that he understood. L was sure he had never been paler before in his life than he was in that moment. Sherlock didn't say anything but L got the message. He wanted to listen and run up to the bedroom right then. He stayed firmly in place though. Sherlock wasn't running. He was going to face it head on. L didn't want to let him face it alone. He trusted Sherlock to handle himself but he wasn't going to leave him to face the devil alone no matter how foolhardy it was of him. He couldn't do much but maybe he could be some form of distraction or deterrent if needed.
He swallowed around the lump in his throat and decisively strode over to stand in the kitchen doorway. He couldn't really sit anywhere yet until he knew which area would be the safest and furthest from the danger. Sherlock watched him with a notably surprised look. L crossed his arms to further show his resolve. Sherlock frowned, showing some reluctance. There apparently wasn't the time to argue or debate as Sherlock glanced at the clock then hurried to pick up his violin.
L barely held in his protest as Sherlock turned his back to the doorway as he started playing. It wasn't a completely vulnerable position since the door was closed and they knew danger was coming but it still put L on edge. Sherlock continued to play and it was only because they were listening for it that they heard the slight creak from the stairwell. Sherlock paused, just to add to the suspense and drama of the moment L was sure. The soothing sounds of the violin soon returned but it wasn't at all soothing this time around.
L kept himself still and quiet as he saw the door slowly open. He couldn't see the man from where he was standing but he could feel the shift in the air that signaled his presence. Sherlock must have felt it too as he stopped playing entirely. L hated how he didn't turn when he talked.
"Most people knock. But then you're not most people, I suppose." He gestured with the bow towards the waiting tea set, back still turned. "Kettle's just boiled."
L retreated further into the kitchen when he finally saw Moriarty as he stepped into the room. Thankfully, the movement was so slight and the man's attention was solely on Sherlock so he hadn't noticed him yet. L wasn't sure he had prepared himself enough for the man's gaze yet. He wasn't going to back down though. Following John's example, L cooled his expression and stood as straight as he could, even though it felt a bit strange given his usual slight hunch.
He watched with laser focus as Moriarty picked an apple from the bowl on the coffee table. He was surprised the man didn't seem to feel it. Moriarty looked around the room as he tossed and caught the apple.
"May I?" He finally spoke, looking towards the seats. Sherlock understood even with his back to the man. He did turn to respond however.
"Please."
Moriarty ignored the gesture towards John's chair and instead took Sherlock's. Sherlock frowned at that and then he tensed. L stood his ground as those evil eyes finally found him. There was a silent moment before a slow, chilling grin spread across Moriarty's face.
"Well…hello again."
L was proud of his lack of reaction and ability to meet those eyes head on. Sherlock stood still, watching. It was a mistake. His inaction was just as much as a confession of fear and concern as any words. Moriarty didn't comment on it, his focus was still on L. The grin and stare didn't falter as he pulled out a small penknife. L's heart pounded but he kept his cool as the man started to cut into the apple, eyes locked on him.
"I have to say, Sherlock…I wasn't expecting us to have an audience." That spurred Sherlock into action. He moved to retrieve the tea he had made, forcing himself to turn his back once again. L was sure his attention was hundred percent on them however.
"Very loyal, isn't he?" The grin somehow stretched further. He finally turned his eyes on Sherlock.
"You really should keep Johnny Boy away from him. He's turning the boy foolish." Sherlock didn't react to the insult though he must have wanted to.
"I'm sure you didn't come here to discuss the boy." Moriarty just smirked at Sherlock's attempt at distancing himself. It was much too late for that. They both knew "the boy" mattered. Thankfully, it seemed L was just a temporary distraction.
"No, I didn't." Moriarty leaned back in the chair, looking down at the apple as he continued carving it up. It was only a moment before his eyes were locked on Sherlock. "I wanted to see how pleased you are."
"You mean with the verdict?" Naturally they were on the same wavelength. Sherlock offered a cup as if this was a casual get together. Moriarty paused in his carving to take it. Now his attention truly was on Sherlock only. His voice turned soft and his eyes gleamed as he looked up at Sherlock with a smile
"With me…back on the streets." He sounded almost intoxicated. It was more than disturbing to realize that if that was the case, it was from Sherlock's presence and the thoughts of all he could do with him; the game he could play.
"Every fairytale needs a good old-fashioned villain."
Sherlock was unfazed and didn't respond. He continued adding milk to his own cup. Moriarty continued, undeterred.
"You need me, or you're nothing. Because we're just alike, you and I." The grin fell away, its absence not any more reassuring. "Except you're boring."
The disappointment he showed at that, whether genuine or not, was clearly not enough to stop his interest in Sherlock. The man wouldn't be there if it were.
"You're on the side of the angels."
Sherlock paused at that for a split second but didn't comment. Instead, he brought up how Moriarty had gotten to the jury. That was the only way he could have won the trial. Predictable really but unfortunately unavoidable apparently.
"Every person has their pressure point; someone that they want to protect from harm."
That sentence was all the more effective with L in the room. L was sure he would have still said it even if he weren't and he was sure it would have still struck a chord in Sherlock even with his unyielding composure. Sherlock finally took a seat with a cup in hand. He didn't fight the obvious shift of subject.
"So how're you going to do it…" He trailed off as he blew on his tea. "…burn me?" Moriarty was delighted at the question. He spoke softly again but L could still hear him and that was no doubt intentional.
"Oh, that's the problem. The final problem. Have you worked out what it is yet? What's the final problem?"
It was truly jarring to hear such a conversation while the two calmly sipped at tea as if it was simply about the weather.
"I did tell you...but did you listen?"
There was that sing-song tone that sometimes came uninvited into L's dreams, brutally twisting them into nightmares. The clink of the teacup hitting the saucer brought L from his thoughts. He watched as Moriarty started drumming his fingers on his knee. The pattern was too precise and deliberate to be meaningless. Just what the meaning was escaped him but Sherlock probably wouldn't have any trouble figuring it out.
There was a sudden, lingering look his way. He was easily visible right over Sherlock's shoulder; there was no real need for Moriarty to focus on him in order to see him. There was no question that it was done purely to get to Sherlock.
"Have you told your little friends yet why I broke into all those places and never took anything?"
L listened with rapt attention as Sherlock went on to explain the whole thing. It wasn't that hard to understand really. There wasn't anything Moriarty was trying to obtain by breaking into all those places. Such things wouldn't hold any interest for him. He showed the world though that he could get them. No doubt many would want this so called "code" that could open any lock.
"I just like to watch them all competing. "Daddy loves me the best!" Aren't ordinary people adorable? Well, you know; you've got John. I should get myself a live-in one. It'd be so funny."
L certainly hoped he didn't. No person deserved such a fate. Not even the worst of criminals. No one was worse than the man calmly sitting in Sherlock's chair.
"Why are you doing all of this? You don't want money or power. Not really."
Moriarty almost seemed to ignore him as he continued digging into the apple with the blade but he didn't interrupt so L was sure he was listening to every breath Sherlock took.
"What is it all for?"
"It's gonna start very soon, Sherlock. The fall."
L couldn't help but shudder at the way the man said the word. It was almost a caress with how softly it left his lips, as if it was the most wonderful thing in the world. The sensation lingered even as he almost mockingly imitated a fall with a whistle.
"But don't be scared. Falling's just like flying, except there's a more permanent destination."
The room was dead silent, broken only by the makeshift thud sound he made. Sherlock said nothing at first but he probably wasn't as unaffected as he made himself appear. He stood up and buttoned his jacket, signaling the end of the meeting.
"Never liked riddles."
Moriarty followed his lead, eyes locked with Sherlock as he stood.
"Learn to. Because I owe you a fall, Sherlock. I...owe...you."
He lingered a moment, making sure Sherlock took in those words. He slowly moved past Sherlock, smoothly picking up another apple along the way. He meet L's gaze as he took a fierce bite. L stood his ground when he smirked his way. However, he did jump before he instinctively caught the apple lobbed his way. He looked down at it then looked up and the man was already walking through the door.
L met Sherlock's gaze as the man watched the interaction over his shoulder. Neither relaxed until they heard the front door close. Sherlock moved then. L couldn't move just yet but he followed the man with his eyes as he wandered over to the apple left on the arm of the chair. The knife was still stuck in it. Sherlock used the handle to pick the apple up. L caught a glimpse of the carved writing. It couldn't really be called that but it still delivered a clear message.
I O U
Moriarty's last words came to mind instantly. The man really wanted to make sure Sherlock remembered them. L didn't want to think about what the man had planned for Sherlock but he knew it wouldn't be long before they found out. He was sure there was no way they wouldn't be stumbling right into it.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Despite the uproar and chaos that came with the trial, nothing really happened for the next two months or so. That didn't lessen the dread that seemed to follow them like circling vultures. Moriarty had disappeared again but they knew it wasn't the end. L wondered if it ever would be over and just what it would mean for them if it were. What would it take to end the whole thing?
Since the press and everyone else was more than aware of Sherlock at that point, there didn't seem to be any more reason to turn down big cases. One such case was a kidnapping of the ambassador to the United States' two children. Lestrade came over to give Sherlock the details in person. He also, unfortunately, brought Donovan with him.
There were many things L hated about her. Her blatant, verbal disdain and disrespect of Sherlock that she always expressed around John to get him to leave him was the biggest thing. There was also her overall attitude and even her voice grated on his ears. He especially hated how she acted every time she saw him. The exaggerated surprise over his continued survival and decision to stay where he was really annoyed him.
"I gotta say, freak. I thought you would have killed him ages ago. Maybe during one of your experiments or something."
"I would have thought you'd have tired of Anderson's no doubt lacking performance. Well you obviously can't get anything better so I suppose you can be forgiven."
This was the only thing he liked about Donovan being in the same room as them. Watching Sherlock cut her down with quick words and insults was always a treat, almost as good as Mrs. Hudson's strawberry shortcake. Donovan's returning glare was quite the sight but she didn't snap back in the way L thought she would. The topic of him seemed to be her go-to today.
"He can't really be as smart as you claim if he's still here."
Unsurprisingly, she threw in another jab at Sherlock. What was a surprise was Sherlock's reaction to it. This time it was Donovan that was subjected to a heated glare. It was restrained to some degree as it was still Sherlock but it was still unexpected for it to have upset him so much. Lestrade stepped in before Sherlock could say anything but L understood that the indignation wasn't because of the insult to Sherlock but to him. L smiled to himself, feeling warm and fuzzy in the chest.
It was then that John stepped into the room.
"Sherlock, something weird..." He trailed off when he saw everyone. L wondered what he was going to say but the thought was quickly forgotten as John was briefed on the kidnapping case.
The two children were at a boarding school in Surrey when they were kidnapped. There were only a few children still at the school as the rest had gone home. The two stayed since their father was in Washington. Sherlock was on the move the second they were done explaining. He was silent and seemed to be in a hurry. L didn't need to ask whether he shared his feeling on the whole thing. It was such a big case and well…it was about time for Moriarty to make his reappearance.
The first thing they did when they arrived at the boarding school was question the house mistress. Question was putting it lightly. The poor woman was so distraught that she wasn't really answering questions sufficiently. Sherlock wasn't deterred however.
"Miss Mackenzie, you're in charge of pupil welfare, yet you left this place wide open last night. What are you: an idiot, a drunk or a criminal?" She flinched at his angry tone and gasped when he yanked the blanket from her shoulders.
"Now quickly, tell me!"
"All the doors and windows were properly bolted. No one, not even me, went into their room last night. You have to believe me!" The woman burst out, still in tears. Sherlock's demeanor instantly changed and he smiled reassuringly as he gently held her shoulders.
"I do. I just wanted you to speak quickly." He then turned and strode away. He called out as he passed some officers, "Miss Mackenzie will need to breathe into a bag now."
L couldn't help but shake his head as the woman started sobbing. The method was unnecessarily rough but certainly effective. John had a similar mixed expression though it did lean more towards disapproval. They were both familiar with Sherlock's methods but he still managed to surprise them at times.
They moved into the dormitories to investigate the rooms where the children were. There were apparently no signs of a break-in but the children couldn't have disappeared on their own. Sherlock looked about the sister's room and eventually found a brown envelope with a wax seal in her trunk. The seal was already broken and inside was a large hardback book of Grimm's Fairy Tales. Certainly not the type of reading one would want such a young child to read. L doubted it was actually hers. Why was it planted there then? He wouldn't be able to figure it out without more information.
They then moved on to the brother's room. The bed had a clear view of the door and the window on the door would have been the only source of light during the night, creating silhouettes of anyone that passed.
"He'd recognize every shape, every outline, the silhouette of everyone who came to the door. So someone approaches the door who he doesn't recognize, an intruder. Maybe he can even see the outline of a weapon." Sherlock went behind the door to demonstrate, showing how clear the outline would have been.
"What would he do in the precious few seconds before they came into the room? How would he use them if not to cry out?"
The typical reaction of a young child would be to cry out, wouldn't it? This boy was different apparently. L knew if it had been him and there was no chance he could escape or fight he would…
"Leave a sign." He said aloud, drawing everyone's attention. "Leave a sign or some way for others to find him."
They all stared a moment before Sherlock nodded.
"Yes, exactly. Just look at all the spy books he reads."
He gestured to them but he was already moving on to the next thing. It was a bit bizarre to watch the man start sniffing about the room but it was just like Sherlock to use the means others would not. It seemed to be the right move as his nose led him right to an almost empty glass bottle of linseed oil under the bed. They darkened the room as much as they could as Sherlock used the ultraviolet light confiscated from Anderson to reveal a message written on the wall beside the bed.
The cry for help, written in a young boy's panicked, messy scrawl was what really made it all real to L. This wasn't a puzzle to solve or a case far in the past with the ending already determined. There were two children out there in trouble and they might not make it. L wasn't just a bystander. He might not be the only one involved but the case did rest on his shoulders. He had the ability to help. Had the ability to save those children. Thankfully, Sherlock and John were right there with him, carrying that same burden.
There was more than just a message. There was also a trail. The intruder had unknowingly stepped into the oil so they were able to follow his footsteps and the boy's into the hallway. The trail didn't go far but, as Sherlock loved showing, there was so much more to it than others saw.
"His shoe size, his height, his gait, his walking pace." Sherlock listed off to Anderson, showing off while still giving the information needed for the case. It was one of his specialties really.
Sherlock ignored the officers moving around him and scrapped off some of the wood from the man's footprint. He carefully put it in a small Petri dish. L wasn't even surprised that he was carrying some around. There was probably much to be found from that once it was analyzed properly, which probably meant they would be heading to Barts soon.
Sure enough, they climbed into a cab and headed right for the hospital. Poor Molly got practically kidnapped in order to help them. Sherlock grabbed her right when she was on her way out and ignored her protests. He even brought of Moriarty in one of the worst ways.
"Need your help. It's one of your old boyfriends. We're trying to track him down. He's been a bit naughty!"
Both Molly and John stopped at that. It took L a moment to understand why. Molly could be excused, of course, but John shouldn't have been so shocked. L didn't go into the case knowing for sure that Moriarty was involved but it felt like something he would do. It is just the case Sherlock would be brought on and what better way to continue their game than to make a case for Sherlock to solve. That's what he did the first time after all. The two soon shook off the shock.
"Er, Jim actually wasn't even my boyfriend. We went out three times. I ended it."
"Yes, and then he stole the Crown Jewels, broke into the Bank of England and organized a prison break at Pentonville. For the sake of law and order, I suggest you avoid all future attempts at a relationship, Molly."
Thankfully, she was too bewildered by the whole thing to take that last comment badly. The man really needed to learn how to be tactful with friends at least.
Sherlock got right to work analyzing the pieces of wood he had gathered and Molly helped him. It took some time but they learned a great deal thanks to the oil working as a preservative. Analyzing it they found there were five items that had been stuck to the kidnapper's shoe. Chalk, asphalt, brick dust, vegetation and something that they weren't able to identify at first.
While Sherlock and Molly were working, L decided to keep John company. They didn't really talk or anything. Idle, meaningless conversation wasn't really L's forte and John was clearly dwelling on the case if the tenseness of his shoulders was any indication. The knowledge that Moriarty was behind the whole thing didn't help with his worrying. He tried to help through his worry, going over the papers about the items analyzed. L stepped close, not quite in his personal space but near enough for him to sense him. John looked down at him. L just stared back. He knew the doctor would understand him well enough.
John's lips quirked up and his face softened. He passed one of the papers to L then grabbed another for himself. The silent promise of being there if needed was apparently enough. A sudden movement on the other side of the room distracted them.
"She seemed to be in a hurry." John said, watching Molly leave the room. "Everything alright?" He called to Sherlock. Sherlock didn't respond at first, he just stared after her with a lost expression.
"…Yes."
Sherlock went back to work, ignoring John's concerned look. John moved on from the papers and instead looked at the police photographs of the dormitories. One of them made him pause.
"Sherlock." He called out as he moved towards where he left his jacket. Sherlock didn't look up but he hummed to let him know he was listening.
"This envelope that was in her trunk. There's another one." That got Sherlock to look up.
"What?"
"On our doorstep. Found it today." He pulled said envelope from his jacket pocket. That must have been what he was going to tell Sherlock before when Lestrade and Donovan were in the flat. John joined Sherlock and handed it to him.
"It has the exact same seal too."
Sherlock reached into the envelope and took out some brown dust. He recognized it instantly.
"Breadcrumbs."
"Like in the Grimm Fairy Tale Hansel and Gretel." L said, coming to take a closer look.
"Yes. Two children led into the forest by a wicked father follow a little trail of breadcrumbs."
"What sort of kidnapper leaves clues?" John asked.
"The sort that likes to boast; the sort that thinks it's all a game."
"Or the kind that wants to be found." L added.
He didn't like at all where this was going. Sherlock was right about Moriarty and his games but to give so much away…it made it feel like they shouldn't win; that they shouldn't find the children. Wouldn't that be playing right into Moriarty hands?
Sherlock frowned.
"L-"
"I'm not saying to abandon them." He cut him off. "It just…feels so much more dangerous this time. This game of his…there's so much more this time. I'm not sure what but I don't think we should just rush in. There has to be some way we can save them without things going his way. Right?"
Sherlock's silence wasn't reassuring.
"Sherlock…" John tried to join in but he was lost on what to say. Sherlock slipped the breadcrumbs back into the envelope then carefully placed it down. He spun in his seat to face L. He didn't reach out or anything but his proximity and stare was enough to garner L's full attention.
"L, understand that I will do what I have to. Moriarty won't win. I promise you that."
This wasn't his usual boast of greatness or arrogant claim about his inability to be wrong. The seriousness and conviction in his voice washed over L. The dread and worry that he carried since the reemergence of Moriarty finally eased. They didn't fade completely but L was sure that was his instincts working to keep them alive. Those were good. Sherlock told him to follow them. He could trust them and rely on them. That was all he knew once but now he also had to rely on Sherlock. He had to trust him. Him and John. There was no question there.
"Alright."
Sherlock smiled slightly, gaze as soft as he let it be. He nodded then turned back to his work.
"The fifth substance is part of the tale I'm sure…"
He continued on but L was distracted a moment when he felt hands on his shoulders. He didn't need to look. He let the strength and reassurance behind the touch as well as the warmth soothe him.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
It took Sherlock a second or few more to identity the last substance. PGPR, which is used in making chocolate. So they were now looking for a location where all those substances could be found. They were urged on by a message faxed to Lestrade.
HURRY UP THEY'RE DYING!
Sherlock made use of his homeless network to find potential locations. He claimed they were faster than the police and he was soon proved right as always. He soon received several text messages with pictures of old abandoned factories and buildings. One was right in the area they were looking for. They knew where the children were.
It was a quick rescue. The kidnapper was nowhere in sight but the children were there. The boy had been heavily poisoned while the sister was much better off but still poisoned. They were left there with nothing to eat except chocolate covered in wrappers laced with mercury. They had essentially put the children in control of their own death.
"The hungrier they got, the more they ate...the faster they died." Thankfully, L wasn't there to hear Sherlock marvel slightly over the method but John certainly didn't approve.
The boy was in intensive care so was unable to answer questions but the sister was. Lestrade and Donovan went first while Sherlock, John and L waited outside the room. Sherlock wasn't taking the wait well as usual. L watched him pace back and forth. At least he didn't have Lestrade there to hound and complain to.
"Now, remember, she's in shock and she's just seven years old, so anything you can do to..." Lestrade said when it was their turn.
"...Not be myself." Sherlock finished for him.
"Yeah. Might be helpful." Lestrade agreed with a shrug.
Sherlock rolled his eyes at John before leading the way into the room. L was the last one in and he was soon almost thrown to the ground when Lestrade shoved Sherlock out. It was so sudden and jarring that the screaming didn't register at first. The girl was screaming her head off and she had been relatively fine until the moment she saw Sherlock.
The dread that had calmed earlier returned tenfold. So that's what Moriarty's plan was. The others seemed unaware of it but Sherlock's silent contemplation showed he knew. L stared at him, unable to really do anything else right then.
"Well, don't let it get to you. I always feel like screaming when you walk into a room! In fact, so do most people."
Lestrade tried to lighten the mood but L wondered if Sherlock even heard him. The man just stared intensely out the window. Was there even something there to hold his attention or was it all in his mind?
They soon left. L hated the look Donovan had glued to Sherlock as she stayed behind. John got them a cab outside.
"This is my cab. You get the next one." Sherlock finally spoke up, sliding into the seat.
"Why?" John asked, bewildered.
"You might talk."
It was meant to rile John up and it did slightly but L was more concerned than anything. It wasn't long before the anger set in though and it wasn't towards Sherlock. L left while John was mumbling to himself as he tried to get another cab.
L burst back into Lestrade's office, startling the man, Donovan and Anderson, though thankfully not enough to draw any guns. Lestrade in particular was taken aback by the incensed look on the boy's face.
"I know what you're thinking." He spat at them. "Sherlock did not kidnap those children."
"She screamed bloody murder the moment she saw him." Donovan snapped back.
"So? That doesn't mean he did it. Moriarty knows what Sherlock looks like, maybe in even more detail than Sherlock does. He could easily find someone that looks as close to Sherlock as possible or make someone look the same. He wants to discredit him; he wants to get idiots like you to believe that it was all fake," he continued on, noticing how he was sounding just like Sherlock but dismissing it.
"That Sherlock isn't actually that smart compared to you and hasn't been doing your jobs better. If you would just think, just think for a god damn second."
"Do you think if Sherlock had done it that he'd allow himself to be recognized by the girl, do you?"
"And don't say it's all part of the plan to make you think he's innocent!" He snapped when Donovan opened her mouth.
He turned to Lestrade.
"You've known him for five years or so, maybe not as well as I or John do but you know that his reaction to the girl screaming was genuine."
The man said nothing; he just sat there contemplating.
"I know what it's like." L started again, voice pained rather than angry now. "To be called a freak, to be called a fake. And now you're calling him a criminal."
"Please Lestrade. He has so few people he trusts. Don't betray him now."
"What would you have me do then?"
"I…"
What could he do? If Sherlock was unable to stop Moriarty's plans then how could he? Damn it he wanted to try though. He didn't want to stand by and watch it all play out, especially since it felt like there was a chance Moriarty was going to come out on top. It felt like whatever he could do wouldn't be enough. It would still end the way Moriarty wanted it to. The helplessness and frustration was almost too much. He clenched his fists till they were whiter than his usual pale and ignored the wetness in his eyes.
"I don't know."
The office fell into a heavy silence. There seemed no way out of it…until there was.
"There you are!" John called, running into the room.
L had a moment of guilt when he saw how relieved the doctor was. He must have thought something happened to him. Moriarty had kidnapped him once before. John saw L's expression but L couldn't get himself to explain right then. All the fight had left him. It seemed no one else was going to either. That was surprising. He would have though that Donovan and Anderson would have jumped at the chance to throw the accusations at John, rubbing it in his face. Lestrade seemed to be lost in his own thoughts so there would be no help there. John didn't ask.
"Come on."
John gently guided L from the room. L could feel Donovan and Anderson's triumphant looks. He knew there was no stopping them. Even if Lestrade didn't listen, there were others they could go to, many willing to soil Sherlock's name.
There was a cab waiting for them outside. L stayed silent as he slid in. John was staring at him. L took a deep sigh, composing himself. John deserved an explanation and a warning of what was to come.
"Moriarty is planning to discredit Sherlock. Donovan and Anderson are doing just as he wants and are trying to get Sherlock arrested for kidnapping those children."
"What? That's ridiculous! Sherlock would never do such a thing."
"They already think so little of him so it's easy for Moriarty to manipulate them." He sighed.
"I hate to say it but they actually have a convincing case, especially if they disregard the information Sherlock gave them. He knew how to find all the clues. He knew where they were. The girl screamed when she saw him. It's easier for them to believe that instead of Sherlock just being that clever."
John was speechless but not from nothing to say. His jaw was tense and his fists were clenched tight. It was good he hadn't told him when they were still in the office. John might have gotten arrested for assaulting some police officers.
John wasn't allowed to stew long. He was suddenly leaping from the cab as it stopped abruptly. L followed instinctively. Once he was out he saw what John had. Sherlock was standing in the street and there was a man on the ground next to him. The streetlights lit him up enough for L to see the gathering pool of blood. It clearly hadn't been Sherlock who had shot him. All the anger from earlier evaporated.
"Sherlock!" John yelled, worried.
He hurried over to him, already looking for any injuries. L knew he would handle Sherlock so he focused on looking around, seeing if there was anyone suspicious. The gunshots had to have come from somewhere. However, no one stood out and there were no further gunshots. An ambulance came soon after to take care of the body. Surprisingly, John recognized the man.
"It's him. Sulejmani. Mycroft showed me his file. He's a big Albanian gangster lives two doors down from us."
Well that was concerning. L went to ask more about that but Sherlock spoke up as if he hadn't heard John.
"He died because I shook his hand. He saved my life but he couldn't touch me. Why?"
Sherlock stormed off before they could even react. John explained what Mycroft had told him on the way back to the flat.
"Four assassins living right on our doorstep. They didn't come here to kill me; they have to keep me alive. I've got something that all of them want, but if one of them approaches me…"
"...The others kill them before they can get it." John finished. He was looking out the flat window, still on high alert. "So what have you got that's so important?"
Sherlock seemingly ignored him as he ran a finger along the table. He examined his finger before getting up and leaving the room. Poor Mrs. Hudson was woken up and brought up to the flat while Sherlock looked about the room. He asked her what she had cleaned lately. It was easy to see what he was all in a tizzy about. Four assassins nearby and, according to Sherlock, dust had been misplaced. Mycroft would naturally have placed cameras in the flat a long time ago if Sherlock hadn't gotten rid of them by now but he wouldn't have been involved in any recent placement of cameras.
The bell rang while this was going on and John went to answer it. L had a feeling he knew who it was. Thankfully, he was alone so they still had some time. Sherlock turned Lestrade down as he removed the camera from one of the bookcases before he could even speak.
"But you haven't heard the question!"
"You want to take me to the station. Just saving you the trouble of asking."
Lestrade didn't even wonder how Sherlock had predicted he would. L showed before that it was possible.
"Who was it? Donovan? I bet it was Donovan. Am I somehow responsible for-"
"You can stop. I already know that this is that bastard's doing." Lestrade cut him off. Sherlock actually paused, surprised. Lestrade sighed then gave L an apologetic look before asking once more.
"Will you come?"
Sherlock looked between the two. So L had gone and spoken in his defense. Pointless really. Still, it was…nice that he had done so for him. Sherlock felt the tension slip from his shoulders as warmth bloomed in his chest. It didn't make his response any less unyielding however.
"No."
Lestrade didn't push. He left with a slump to his shoulders. John watched him go. He looked like he was about to stop him but didn't. Sherlock went right back to what he was doing with the camera but John wasn't about the let what happened go.
"Should have gone with him. People will think-"
"I don't care what people think." Sherlock sternly cut him off.
"Sherlock, I don't want the world believing you're...a fraud." There was a pause at the end as if he couldn't bear saying it. L understood how he felt.
"You're worried they're right."
"No." He said, outraged at the suggestion.
"That's why you're so upset." Sherlock's tone started rising to match his with the hurt of betrayal underneath. "You're afraid that you've been taken in as-"
"I believe in you, Sherlock!" Sherlock froze at that. John seemed taken aback for a moment as well but continued nonetheless.
"Just like I believe in L. You both are some of the most amazing people I've ever met. I don't believe for a second that you lied to me. That you made it all up. That you tricked me."
There was a long pause as Sherlock slowly took in his words. John's upset faded and tenderness took its place.
"I told you before, Sherlock. You're my friend. I don't want anyone to think the worst of you. That's why I'm upset."
Sherlock simply nodded as he slowly sat back down. He returned to his fiddling with the camera after a moment. L smiled. His expression might have been blank but there was happiness shining in his eyes.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Lestrade did come back but this time it was with a warrant for Sherlock's arrest. L was right. Donovan and Anderson had gone to someone else. In fact, they had gone right to the chief superintendent. Lestrade was sure to get in some serious trouble for allowing Sherlock to be allowed in so many cases. That was the least of L's concerns right then. Sherlock allowed the officers to cuff him and followed without a word. John was having none of it but there wasn't anything he could do.
It was all the worse when Donovan started gloating. The doctor was already reaching his limit so it was no surprise what happened when the superintendent came into the flat.
"Looked a bit of a weirdo, if you ask me. Often are, these vigilante types."
L saw it coming of course and it looked Donovan did as well. L didn't stop him and there was no way Donovan could have. John soon joined Sherlock while the superintendent nursed his bleeding nose. L smirked from the window, relishing the sight. The man deserved it.
He stayed at the window, watching. He knew Sherlock wouldn't be cooperating for much longer. It wasn't long before Sherlock and John made a run for it, chained together. Just how they went about it was quite fun to watch. Lestrade looked both miffed and relieved. He was slow to chase after them too. The inspector glanced at him in the window and gave a subtle shrug and grin. L smiled, stepping away from the window.
"How dreadful." Mrs. Hudson said, looking spooked still. "Those poor boys."
"They will be fine, Mrs. Hudson." L reassured her. "All we can do now is get some rest and wait for them to sort it all out."
"Yes. Yes. Will you be alright by yourself, dearie?"
Mrs. Hudson retreated to her room after L assured her he'd be fine. He had said there was nothing they could do but L wasn't really keen on just waiting.
He passed the coffee table and spotted the newspapers John hadn't managed to get to today. One stood out. L picked it up and read the headline that had caught his attention. He had to wonder why John hadn't noticed it. Unless he had but then why hadn't he said anything? He would have had a reaction no doubt and they would have noticed it. Unless he saw it somewhere else before. It wasn't important really. The article added some insight into the whole mess Sherlock and John were in. Well, L knew just what he was going to do in the meantime.
L pulled out his phone. It was given to him by Mycroft and he always had it on him for safety purposes. He had never really used it before but there was little choice now. He sent a quick message then went to get his coat and scarf. It wouldn't be a long wait after all. He slipped into the car when it pulled up, nodding to the woman beside him. It was a bit of a drive but it wasn't like L had anywhere else he had to be.
There was a man waiting to guide him when they pulled up. L looked about at the men reading even at the late hour. He could feel the unnatural silence as if it were a physical presence weighing on his shoulders. A sigh would feel like a bolt of lightening, sudden and jarring. The silence seemed so easy to break and yet his throat suddenly felt tight as if the very air was trying to stop him from breaking it. He didn't fight the feeling, as it seemed to be the last thing he should do. It helped that he wasn't much of a talker. The man led him into a room in the back of the building. Even the door was silent, hinges not squeaking in the slightest.
Mycroft was waiting for him in an armchair. L scowled when he saw what he was reading. The man waited till the door closed once more before addressing him.
"I admit I wasn't expecting you to seek me out. Especially, not alone. I am assuming it is urgent."
"Not exactly. Too late now but I wanted to ask you why you gave Moriarty all that information about Sherlock."
"I'd ask you why you came to that conclusion but we both know you wouldn't be here unless you were certain."
The man neatly folded the paper and put it down on the table to give his full attention. L wouldn't deny that he was furious over the whole thing but the logical side of him knew there had to be a reason. He decided to focus on that.
"What are you planning?" Mycroft lifted a brow. "No matter what the situation, I'm sure you wouldn't sell Sherlock out."
"You believe I'd put Sherlock over all that Moriarty could offer me?"
"Offer you? He wouldn't give you anything unless he'd turn out on top in the end. And yes I do. You don't hide your concern for him as well as you think. You are right to worry. Sherlock certainly gets himself into some serious situations."
"I'm afraid it's in his nature." Mycroft agreed with a sigh. There was no point in denying any of it. Not with L.
"You had to have know it would turn out like this. Why do it then? How do you plan to make it right?"
"And you are certain I will." It was a statement, not a question.
"Is Sherlock aware of the plan? Not from the start I'm sure. But now?"
Mycroft didn't answer.
"Is my knowing too much of a risk? Will it ruin the final stages?"
"You really are exceptionally bright."
"Is there a risk of it going wrong even with my not knowing?"
"There is a risk to everything."
"Even with the two brightest minds in the world behind it?"
"Flattering but we are not perfect beings."
He knew just how Sherlock would have responded to that but resisted. His lips still quirked up though. Mycroft frowned disapprovingly. He wasn't surprised the man could tell what he was thinking.
"There is nothing that you can do." He said, keeping his frown. "Though you so desperately want to." L didn't deny it. His presence there was proof enough.
"So I just have to watch and hope it all goes well after all?" L sighed.
"You are full of potential but you must not rush in foolishly. Moriarty is too much for you. Now is not your time."
"Even so, I'm not happy to just accept that."
"But you will…you have no choice. You are clever. You know there is too much risk if you try and intervene now. Shame for you to lose Sherlock and John because of your own stubbornness and foolhardy." L smirked, teasing.
"It works for Sherlock." Mycroft sighed.
"Well…let's not try and continue that bad habit, shall we?"
The door opened behind them. The footsteps were what alerted L to that fact with how silent the door was. He was pleased to see John. The doctor had realized just where Moriarty got his information as well. John was surprised to see him though.
"A bit slow Dr. Watson. The boy made it here first and has shared his piece." A scowl quickly took over the surprise.
"Doesn't mean I can't do the same." John walked in, quiet fury stewing beneath the surface.
It seemed Mycroft was going to get a talking to after all. L smirked and moved towards the door to give them some privacy. He gave Mycroft a cheeky little wave before closing it. The man's scowl only made him laugh.
John made it quick. The sun was starting to come out now. L didn't feel the missed sleep in the slightest but John did look worn out. It could have also been from the stress and all he had gone through. The doctor didn't ask why L was there or express disapproval over L moving about by himself. He couldn't have been safer than with Mycroft and his men.
"Should go meet up with Sherlock." John said as he got them a cab.
"So we are going to Barts?" L asked. John paused. Clearly, the doctor didn't know where the detective was.
"I suppose. He didn't tell me where he was going."
"He's at Barts." L was certain of that.
"Okay then."
Sherlock was at Barts. The man was busy sitting on the floor, bouncing a rubber ball. The intensity of his expression showed the storm brewing in his head. It took him a second or two for him to notice them. He grinned when he spotted L, not surprised in the least that he managed to find them. The grin didn't last long and it seemed weighed down by something. L was sure it was whatever plan he and Mycroft had made.
"The computer code is key to this. If we find it, we can use it and beat Moriarty at his own game." Sherlock said, holding the ball instead of bouncing it. He stood up and rested his hands on the lab counter.
"Somewhere in 221B, somewhere on the day of the verdict he left it hidden."
"He didn't touch anything beyond the apples." L said, joining in.
"Did he write anything down?" John asked.
"No." Sherlock started drumming his fingers on the counter as he contemplated. L stared for a moment then it clicked.
"That's it!" Sherlock looked to him then followed his gaze to his own fingers.
"The drumming." He muttered to himself. "The pattern." He smiled.
"Good job." L grinned at the praise.
Sherlock took out his phone. He made sure the others couldn't see the screen before typing. He sent the message then sat on a stool. It was some time later and L started to wonder what it was that Sherlock had sent. If was the code to Mycroft then wouldn't the case be solved? Wouldn't they be safe to return to Baker Street? Nothing had happened or changed. They were still waiting in the lab. Perhaps they were waiting for Mycroft to capture Moriarty. That made sense. It didn't make the waiting any easier. The waiting was stopped but it wasn't by what L was expecting.
"Mrs. Hudson. She's been shot." John relayed the phone call he just got, panicked and frantic.
The man rushed for the door. L jumped to his feet to follow but Sherlock didn't move. They both paused at that. It was beyond bizarre. Sherlock loved Mrs. Hudson even if he wouldn't admit it. The man had nearly killed that agent that had harmed Mrs. Hudson back during the Irene Adler case.
"You go. I'm busy." He dismissed them with no emotion whatsoever.
"You machine." John snarled under his breath but still loud enough for Sherlock to hear.
It was a heat of the moment thing. L knew John didn't really think that. He also was sure Sherlock didn't really mean any of it either. It just didn't fit. Didn't matter what he thought. John grabbed his hand and pulled him along as he stormed from the room. L didn't fight the doctor's strong, agitated grip. L got one last look at Sherlock before the door swung shut. The man didn't look at them. He kept his eyes firmly staring ahead.
However, Sherlock couldn't keep his gaze away once the door was closed. He stared after them as he sat in silence, waiting. It was only a few minutes before his phone chimed. He calmly pulled out the phone and read the message. He rose from his chair and left the room. It was time to end it.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Sherlock opened the door to the roof, knowing just who was waiting for him there. The Bee Gees song "Stayin' Alive" filled what would have been a heavy silence. The heaviness and tension was still palpable though. There was probably nothing that could overpower them. Sherlock calmly approached where Moriarty was sitting on the ledge.
"Here we are at last. You and me, Sherlock, and our problem. The final problem."
Sherlock let him talk. Let him give his big speech. Let him think he had won. He didn't need to hear any of it. He knew where this was going. They both did.
"Now I've got to go back to playing with the ordinary people. And it turns out you're ordinary just like all of them."
Sherlock ignored the comment. He drummed his fingers against his other hand as he paced. The pattern caught the other's attention.
"Good. You got that."
Sherlock explained the code and Moriarty smiled but then buried his head in his hands.
"This is too easy. There is no key, DOOFUS!" Sherlock didn't flinch at the yell but he did allow confusion to show.
"You don't really think a couple of lines of computer code are gonna crash the world around our ears? I'm disappointed."
Moriarty explained, boasting and gloating. It was simple. Nothing grand or complex. Just a couple of willing participants to unlock the doors and let out the prisoners. No all powerful key. Nothing. Disappointing perhaps but it was enough to fool Sherlock Holmes.
"I knew you'd fall for it. That's your weakness. You always want everything to be clever." He didn't give Sherlock time to respond. He just plowed ahead, jumping straight to the end.
"Now, shall we finish the game? One final act. Glad you chose a tall building. Nice way to do it." Sherlock paused a moment, still reeling slightly.
"Yes, of course. My suicide."
He moved to the ledge and looked to the ground below. Moriarty joined him there but there was no risk of the man pushing him. No, he wanted Sherlock to do it. It had to be him. He wouldn't mind pushing the man himself if it would solve it all but there was much more to it all. Too much. There were no simple solutions. Not anymore. It was still extremely tempting. The man would probably laugh the whole way down. One way to find out.
He yanked Moriarty by the collar and pushed him towards the ledge. A slip of the hand and he would go tumbling over. He held on tight and just held him there. Moriarty's eyes flashed and he grinned in a way no one in their right mind should.
"You're insane." Sherlock said, seeing no fear or concern. Only interest and glee.
"You're just getting that now?" Sherlock scowled at the mock, pushing him further. The consulting criminal just spread his arms out wide, at Sherlock's complete mercy.
"Okay, let me give you a little extra incentive." The happy voice turned savage and a vicious smile broke his face. "Your friends will die if you don't."
It was expected but Sherlock still felt his heart go cold. He had to play along though. Had to know just who were the targets.
"John…L." He whispered, putting fear into it.
"Not just them."
"Mrs. Hudson...Lestrade." He stopped there, gauging. Did he…?
"Four bullets. Four gunmen. Four victims. There's no stopping them now."
Moriarty delighted in the fear and horror on Sherlock's face. He didn't see his relief buried deep. He had missed one. The plan could still work.
"Unless my people see you jump."
Sherlock brought him back from the ledge and let him go. The man continued to boast but Sherlock took the moment to send a quick text to Mycroft while his back was turned. He got a response immediately.
He had all the components now. Everything was in place. It was Sherlock's turn to have the final play.
He let the triumph out. The laugh escalated without his consent but it worked. Moriarty whirled around, scowling. He walked right into his trap. It was easy to get under his skin this time. He was a kindred spirit after all. They both had the same gift and suffered for it. Sherlock knew just what to say.
"I am you. Prepared to do anything; prepared to burn; prepared to do what ordinary people won't do. You want me to shake hands with you in hell? I shall not disappoint you. I may be on the side of the angels, but don't think for one second that I am one of them."
He wasn't prepared for it. Didn't fully expect it. He jumped back as the trigger was pulled. He could only stare as blood pooled around Moriarty's head. Of course he would take away Sherlock's chance to use him to stop the snipers. He didn't hesitate in the slightest and he went with a smile. The man was dead but there was still so much to do.
John was right on time. Of course, he would have come running, rushing to protect and support him. He was a true friend. He didn't deserve what was to come but Sherlock had no choice.
"I know you believed in me John. I'm sorry. You shouldn't have."
It was all part of the plan but the tears turned genuine. If this went wrong… If he never came back…
He wished he could have said what he really wanted to.
"Tell L…tell him I'm sorry. He doesn't want to be me. He doesn't want to be a fraud. He can be so much more than I ever was."
To John…to L…to everyone. He wanted them all to know how much he…
It was hard to drop the phone. He wanted to keep the moment forever, as fake as it was. This might be the last time and even if it wasn't, it could be years before he saw them again. Saw John again. He could hear him screaming but he still tipped forward. Either way, he would be finishing it.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Mrs. Hudson was fine. It was a lie to get Sherlock alone. He knew. He let them go. He went to face him alone. John had rushed off to join Sherlock while L was forced to stay behind.
He wasn't there. He didn't see it. He couldn't say whether it was all real or not; whether there was a trick to it. He didn't even hear it from John. The man was too…broken to say it. Like it being unspoken was the last thing holding him together; the last thread of denial he could hold on to. Whatever John did or didn't see, it was enough. The absolute devastation and heartbreak permanently etched into his face, joining the new wrinkles, was a constant reminder of how grateful he should feel that he hadn't seen it. He wasn't sure he could handle the sight either, fake or not. Just imagining it was too much.
It couldn't have been real. It wasn't true. It was part of the plan, wasn't it? Sherlock said he would do whatever he had to. That's why Mycroft stayed away. He wasn't isolating himself in his grief. He knew L would see his lack of mourning. That had to be it. L refused to accept any other answer.
L clung on to the unknown plan just as John clung to his denial. He clung even when John stopped. The doctor's tears that he tried so hard to hide just made L all the more stubborn. Sherlock wouldn't do that to John. He wouldn't leave him like this. He had to be out there. He just had to wait. John needed him. Even if the doctor didn't always listen when he said Sherlock was coming back, L knew his heart hadn't given up. Not completely. It might prolong the pain but L refused to stop believing. He wouldn't stop even if it took years.
He believed in Sherlock Holmes.
Author Note: So what did you all think? It was fun to write this chapter. It was especially interesting to write the roof scene, knowing it is all part of a plan. Hope all my original moments work.
Please Review. Please Please Please. I got so little feedback last chapter. It hurts my little heart T-T