Sherlock - The Game Is On!

The Final Problem- Nineteen

Chapter Nineteen

Third POV

"Because, on balance, even your Lady Bracknell was more convincing." Sherlock stated passively. A blinking Mycroft lifts his head, looking a little disappointed to know Sherlock's seen through him.

"Ignore everything he just said. He's being kind. He's trying to make it easy for me to kill him." He looks up from the floor to John, who already turned to look at Mycroft.

Reaching up to smooth his hair, Mycroft lowers his hand and smiles ruefully to his brother. "Which is why this is going to be so much harder." He turns to face Mycroft again and raises the gun, pointing it at him.

On the screen behind him, Eurus shows a trace of emotion for the second time durning this game, her eyes widening and her mouth open a little. Mycroft smiles at him. "You said you liked my Lady Bracknell."

"Sherlock. Don't." John whispers. Turning to face him, Mycroft interrupts him, dutifully: "It's not your decision, Doctor Watson." Mycroft turns back to his brother. "Not in the face, though, please. I've promised my brain to the Royal Society."

Behind Sherlock, Eurus leans closer to the camera, looking concerned. Sherlock closes his eyes for a moment, then opens them again.

"Where would you suggest?" Sherlock questions. "Well..." He starts doing up the top button of his shirt. "I suppose there is a heart somewhere inside me." He looks down and straightens his tie. "I don't imagine it's much of a target but..."

Sherlock's face is anguished but he smiles a little, and Eurus briefly raises her eyes away from the camera.

Lowering his hands, the elder Holmes looks to his curly haired brother. "Why don't we try for that?"

John walks to his side and holds out a hand towards Sherlock. "I won't allow this." He turns his head to Mycroft, who looks at him seriously. "This is my fault. Moriarty."

"Moriarty?"

"Her Christmas treat: five minutes conversation with Jim Moriarty five years ago."

"What did they discuss?"

"Five minutes conversation..." Sherlock lowers the pistol a little and his expression suggests he already knows what his brother is going to say. Mycroft pauses, then shrugs. "Unsupervised."

On opened mouth John stumbles back a step. Mycroft looks down ruefully. As John continues to back away, Sherlock sighs softly and raises the pistol again. Mycroft straightens up and looks at him. "Goodbye, brother mine. No flowers..." He puts his hands behind his back. "By request..." He sucks in a breath. "Please do tell Anthea, I love her as well as Michelle... A sister of mine." He smiles lightly.

Sherlock shifts his finger more firmly onto the trigger of the gun and takes aim.

On the screen behind him, Eurus speaks breathlessly, her eyes wide.

- - Jim Moriarty thought you'd make this choice. He was so excited. - -

The lights in the room turn red and Jim appears on the screen, speaking more softly than previously.

- - And here we are, at the end of the line. Holmes killing Holmes. - -

Mycroft shifts uncomfortably on the spot while Sherlock looks at him with a determined gaze. His eyes narrow slightly.

- - This is where I get off. - -

He smiles. The lights go white and Eurus is back on the screen.

Sherlock's gaze is fixed on his brother, his expression grim as he begins to speak tightly: "Five minutes. It took her just five minutes to do all of this to us." Sherlock turns his eyes towards John, who looks at him more closely.

Sherlock returns his gaze to his brother, then raises his eyebrows and shrugs, pressing his lips together for a moment before lowering the gun and turning away. "Well, not on my watch."

Mycroft looks startled. John turns to face Sherlock, licking his lips.

- - What are you doing? - -

"A moment ago, a brave man asked to be remembered. A moment ago, I found out I was going to be a father... If this is what it takes to keep my family safe, then so be it." Mycroft has a look of alarm. "I'm remembering the governor and I will forever dream of the what if's."

Holding the pistol in both hands, he lifts the muzzle and presses the end under his chin. "Ten..."

Eurus frowns.

- - No, no, Sherlock. - -

John looks briefly to Mycroft then back to Sherlock.

"Nine..."

Both of the others stare at Sherlock in horror.

"Eight..."

- - You can't! - -

"Seven..."

- - You don't know about Redbeard yet. - -

Eurus urges.

Sherlock lowers his left hand, continuing to hold the muzzle under his chin with the other. "Six..."

- - Sherlock! - -

Eurus presses anxiously.

"Five..."

- - Sherlock, stop that at once! - -

As she panic yells at him, a small dart whizzes out of a round hole in the wall and impacts the back of Sherlock's head. He jolts and reaches his left hand round to it.

"Four..."

Another dart shoots out into the back of John's neck. He reaches round for it. Sherlock pulls the dart from his own neck.

"Three..." His voice dribbles on. "Two..." He urges weakly. He slowly begins to fall backwards, the pistol falling from his hand. His eyes slowly close as he falls, and when he lands it's as if he has fallen into thick black oil, which rises up around him and envelops him until he disappears from view.