James Moriarty - Tempestuous Tides

Chapter 22

Sherlock looked magical as he ran, the cold sea air blasting in his face so suddenly that his skin whipped backwards, tightly. He knew for a fact that Moriarty was about to do something so stupid. If Moriarty was to do this, Sherlock had no idea if he would be able to live with the implications of the pain in his life. But, all he could do right now was keep moving forward. Stopping was becoming the last option to take. From all the history of these ridiculous adventures, he knew that it was something he would be able to consider a lot later on. A rush of adrenaline ha spiked into his body, just like it had with James. So, as he ran, he allowed it to course through his veins so rapidly. receiving the drug inside of him made him want to close his eyes and embrace the flying feeling in his bones, making him so much stronger, revealing his heartache to his insides, rather than making his brain function so poorly like it had been for way too long. Seeing Mycroft leave the world, seeing John leave the world and fighting for his life had been taking a toll on his intellectual mind. In one way, he felt guilty for feeling this thrill without knowing everyone he truly cared for was alive and well. Instead, he wished that he was the one who had gone, in order to bring everyone back from this deep induced sadistic sleep they were all ensnared in. 

Maybe if Aella had never am to see her dad, then this would all be solved, never even coming about. But, she did come back. Tearing apart their worlds into far too many pieces. Far too many issues that they were being left unable to resolve. In a sense, he was starting to shine, starting to feel okay now he had something to preoccupy himself with, even if it was something so ridiculous to be occupied with. Knowing that someone he knew he had cruel fun with was about to take himself from this world. Mycroft would have let Moriarty to if it was Sherlock dead. Then again, Sherlock always knows there is a way when you are willing to try anything. If he could bring Mycroft back from the head another way, then he would do. Camilla had done all she could to help save John Watson and bring him back.

All in all, she was right to bring John back from the dead, knowing he was a lot more valuable to Sherlock than Mycroft would have been. Even though Mycroft was a blood-related brother, John was much more like the brother Sherlock wanted. Always having such similar interests that they shared completely. Fighting through whatever they were faced with. 

As he neared the woods, he spotted the dark figure sitting on the edge of the water, wading his feet into the deep waters below him. They must have had several tunnels, winding through to the open waters. Perhaps where they might seek a moment of unity with their human side. 

"No!" Sherlock yelled from behind him, walking closer instead of running, his body out of an oxygen supply. "No, you don't get to do this to me."

"It will bring two people back, Sherlock. I'm not afraid of death, never seems to scare me,"

"You do enough of it. But, you cannot do this?" he laughed. It sounded scornful and full of ridicule, but it was supposed to show how crazy this all seemed. 

"Give me reasons, Sherlock,"

"Well, on top of that hill, way over there, John Watson is dying, he's probably dead. I could not have saved him, but I knew I could save you. You are still alive and healthy, so this is why you need to stay alive,"

"Give me more than that, Sherlock," he rolled his eyes, showing how cocky and confident he always is. 

"Camilla is dead, she cannot save anyone else. Mycroft is dead, so is the boy, your son. Moran is missing, and everyone back home doesn't care about me,"

"So, you think I care about you?"

"I know you care about me."

Sherlock offered his hand out to Moriarty, letting him grab hold and pulling him up. As he moved his foot from out of the water, his foot was caught on something. Sherlock wedged a stick deeply into the soil for Moriarty to hold onto as he checked out his ankle. When he neared the edge of the pool, he saw some sort of rope tied around his ankle. 

"What's this?" Sherlock asked, holding the rope up. 

"It's nothing, just cut it off," Moriarty asked, holding out a knife for Sherlock to cut the rope with. As he did so, Sherlock asked no more questions. 

"We should probably think about what we are going to do after this," Sherlock gestured to the hill, seeing that someone was on the hill. From where they were, it was hard to make out who it was. 

Until. two people came upon the hill, two shadows in their eyes.

"Who is that?" Moriarty put his shoes back on, starting to walk toward the hill again. 

"What are you doing?" Sherlock pulled his arm back, hiding behind the tree nearby. "That's the people who came for Camilla."

"Have you got a gun?" Moriarty asked, holding out his hand for any gun he could lay his hand on."

"Here," Sherlock placed two guns in his hand, watching him take them without hesitation. 

Moriarty moved from out of the shadows, looking outward for at least one second before pulling fire on both of them. Their bodies fell to the ground, convulsing, and then stopping. Sherlock crept out with Moriarty, starting to make their way to the top of the hill to see if John was still alive, and any sign of John Watson. As they made their way to the top of the hill, Moriarty paused, looking to his left. 

"What is it?" Sherlock asked.

"It's Aella, she is looking limp, I should help her,"

"No, no you won't," Sherlock was very vicious and forceful, pushing Moraerity up the hill with great pressure. "She has killed my family! She would have killed yours."

"She is my family, Sherlock."

Moriarty pushed past Sherlock, making his way to Aella, he needed to speak to her. And, this was not how he wanted to leave things with her. So, he went. Before he went to her completely, Moriarty turned back, hoping Sherlock was going to hear him. 

"Let me know if I got them both perfectly in the head."

Sherlock nodded, walking away. As he got to the top of the hill he saw John laying there, still breathing. He looked like he had been healed and perfectly made new in his body. Why? Those bodies next to him were just as he had been told by Moriarty. Two bullets smacked in between their heads. 

"Welcome back again John," Sherlock smiled, laying on the grass next to him.

"I told you we would meet again. How is Moriarty?"

"He has gone to see Aella, I know what's happened."