The John Watson Fall

One of them has to die. But which?

Moriarty found his cell to be the perfect place to plan. And the fact that Sherlock was on the other side of the wall made it all the more fun. Yes, I've already begun to play with you, Sherlock. But I'm not done yet. NO, you still need to read the ending. If I can only figure out what-

Oh. Oh, was that a light bulb flashing? Moriarty mentally investigated what it revealed. A dead body on the pavement. Yes, he'd been planning on that. A group of people and the cries of torment. No surprise there. Now, to take a look at the faces...

Hm. That would be interesting. Moriarty calculated the sequence of events. If he timed it just right, his little game might even have a few additional moves.

Oh, yes, it was perfect. So deliciously perfect. He could almost taste the death already.

Moriarty laughed. "I hope you enjoy playing with fire, Sherlock," he whispered to the wall gleefully. "Because this is going to BURN."

********

A Cab Ride and a Story

John flipped through the paper absentmindedly. Sherlock leaned against the window, possibly in his Mind Palace. The case with Moriarty was beginning to take its toll on both of them. John didn't know how much longer they could hold out. The end was drawing near; he could sense it.

His phone suddenly vibrated. Pulling it out, he glanced at Sherlock for a reaction, but his eyes never left the window.

Get in the cab. Don't tell Sherlock. And grab your coat. It's cold out. -M

John peeked out the window. Sure enough, a black cab was waiting by the curb. John grabbed his coat and hurried down the stairs. He paused just before he left, making sure his gun was in his pocket. After confirming that it was, he stepped outside, shutting the door firmly behind him.

The cab hummed to life as he approached. He opened the door and climbed in. "Where are we going?" John asked. The cabbie said nothing, but pulled the cab back out onto the street. They rode in silence for a few minutes, until the screen in front of John flickered on.

"Hullo," said Moriarty. "Are you ready for the story? This is the story of the Loyal Squire.

"The Loyal Squire was the most devoted follower of Sir Boast-A-Lot. And, as time passed, Sir Boast-A-Lot relied more and more on the Loyal Squire.

"One day, the Loyal Squire learned that someone was plotting to kill Sir Boast-A-Lot. The Loyal Squire couldn't let that happen, could he? But how could he stop it?

"So instead of telling his friend about the plot, the Loyal Squire offered himself to Sir Boast-A-Lot's enemies. But would that be enough?

"The end!"

John took several deep shaky breaths. "What the-"

"The best friend always dies," the cabbie said as they came to a stop. Moriarty turned around and smiled. "No charge."

John stumbled out of the cab. He tried to get his gun out, but the cab - and Moriarty - was gone before he could.

********

 

On the Rooftops of London

 

"Are you coming?"

 

John look up in surprise. "What?"

 

Sherlock tied his scarf impatiently. "Are you coming to Bart's or not?"

 

"Ohm um, yeah." John shifted in his chair. "I'll meet you there."

 

Sherlock headed out, but poked his head back in. "Are you alright, John?"

 

"Hm? Yeah, don't mind me."

 

After Sherlock left, John sat quietly. He didn't plan on moving any time soon, but when his phone vibrated, he knew those plans would change.

 

On the rooftops of London...Coo, what a sight. I'll see you at Bart's -M

 

John took a long look around the flat. "I'll be back," he said, but he didn't really believe it.

 

***

 

As he approached the roof of Bart's, John could hear "Staying Alive" blasting through the air.

 

"Why am I here, Moriarty?" John shouted.

 

Moriarty looked up from where he was jamming on the roof's ledge. "John, so glad you could make it!"

 

"Why am I here?" John repeated.

 

"We both know you already know the answer," Moriarty said with a smile as he stood up.

 

"You're going to kill me." It was a statement, not a question.

 

"Oh, no, John. I'm not going to kill you. I'm going to talk to you, and then you're going to kill yourself."

 

"Why me?" John asked quietly. "Why not someone who matters?"

 

"Why not Sherlock, you mean? Because, I'm not done with him. I still want to play."

 

John took a deep, steadying breath. "Will...will you let me talk to him, one last time?"

 

"Of course. It was always part of the plan."

 

********

 

The Final Conversation

 

"Sherlock."

 

"John? Where are you?"

 

"I'm here, Sherlock. I've been here for a while."

 

"Well, then, where-"

 

"Outside, Sherlock. You'll see me."

 

Minutes later, John saw Sherlock standing below, searching the crowd. "Up, Sherlock. Look up."

 

Sherlock's gaze instantly found his friend. "John, what the-"

 

"Sherlock, listen to me. It's time for me to go."

 

"What do mean, John?"

 

"I mean that you no longer need my help."

 

"Well, of course I still need your help; why would you thing of leaving?"

 

John struggled to keep his voice steady. "I've completed my soldier's duty. I'm being release."

 

"Released? Released from what?"

 

A deep shuddering breath. "Goodbye, Sherlock."

 

John saluted, then jumped off the roof.

 

The last thing John heard was Sherlock screaming his name, almost like a sob.

 

********

 

Epilogue

 

Sherlock's hand shook as he turned the pill around in his fingers. He'd saved it for a while, planning to run tests on it. But what better way to test it, then on himself?

 

He brought the pill up to his lips. As he was about to bite down, the door swung open.

 

"Sherlock? Sherlock, what are you doing?" Molly dropped beside him.

 

"I need to leave," he said, barely above a whisper.

 

Molly took the pill from him. "Is this what John would have wanted>"

 

"John isn't here anymore." Sherlock covered his face with his hands, shaking with every strangled sob.

 

Molly tentatively put her hand on Sherlock's shoulder. "But he is, Sherlock." She put her other hand over his heart. "He's in here."

 

"I don't know if anyone's told you, Molly, but I don't have one of those."

"Yes, you do. That's why it hurts."

 

Sherlock took a shaky breath. "I want it to stop hurting."

 

"What do you need?"

 

Sherlock looked her in the eye. "I need you."