Sherlock backed away from the men and woman with a single step backwards. Two of the most wanted criminals and their boss stood in front of him threateningly. Sherlock flashed a fake smile at them and started to dash out of the church. But a voice called out to him and he froze with his back to the people.
"Where are you going Sherlock? Afraid of me?"
His body pivoted around, feeling the need to address the fact that someone said he was afraid. Sherlock Holmes cut off his feelings- he didn't fear, he didn't love, and he didn't understand emotions at all. He hated that people believed he could do all of those things since he viewed them as human weaknesses.
"Of course not, I've just got somewhere to be." Sherlock replied.
"No you don't."
"You're right, I don't."
Moriarty chuckled, "I know. But did you really think I wouldn't show up?"
"I considered it."
"So your plan is to interrogate anyone who you think wrote the story. Not very clever..."
"Well, you did say it was my weakness when solving a case."
"That I did. I'm so happy that you actually listen to me."
"How could I not? You're quite loud and an interesting individual."
"Oh stop, you're making me blush." Moriarty flicked his wrist playfully.
"But I really do have to go."
The criminal gave his back-up men a look, causing them to hold up their loaded weapons at Sherlock. He backed up a few more steps, at that point he was standing in the doorway of the small church. Kitty had taken a seat at one of the edges of a pew, a surprised facial expression taken over her serious façade.
Sherlock leaned against the wall while Jim started talking, "Did you ever wonder why exactly...we were in this specific location?"
"No, because I figured it out myself."
"Tell me. Pleeeeeeaaaaaase?"
"Shut it, will you? We're in a church, in a town called "The church" translated from German. Diekirch, Luxembourg."
"Yes...by why a church? I could've picked a chip shop in a closer, more convenient, place if I wanted to."
"Why would you make things easy for me? You're not an ordinary person...oh, that's why." Sherlock realized within a moment, "Because I'm on the side of the angels. So why not kill me here in irony?"
"Exactly. See, this is why you make a good playmate for me. You get all of my jokes, my riddles, and I know you'll always come out to play."
"Still consistent with the metaphors I see."
"It's my style." He shrugged, "And I obviously wouldn't just shoot you to get it over with, no...I need to see you suffer for getting in my way then trying to shut my network down completely."
The guns were put down and Sherlock smirked, "Don't you remember the time we were on the roof and faked our suicides together? I told you that we were the same...and you agreed. I'm prepared to die, go to prison, be tortured...but I won't suffer because of those things."
"No, but you would if I got Johnny over here. I'd laugh at how much you care for him. Sherlock Holmes, the unemotional arse who was a weakness for clever things and John Watson."
"So I've been told." The detective huffed and rolled his eyes.
"You could easily leave now. Why haven't you?" Moriarty asked.
"I needed to do this." Sherlock replied.
He pulled out his own weapon, aiming it at the psychopath and staring intensely at the surprise on the faces of everyone else. The trigger was pulled quickly after the aim was shifted a bit, causing a ricochet reaction off of a metal cross on the far wall. The bullet went in the opposite direction and delivered a fatal blow to one person in the church. But Sherlock was already running back to the cottage where he and John where staying, not wanting to waste time on seeing who had died. It was a similar sort-of situation with the death of The Woman. He met up to speak with her, happened to stumble upon Moriarty, had a few throwback moments, and she died.
Sherlock couldn't help but think of the reoccuring deaths as a pattern he would have to watch out for as he ran through the empty meadowy landscape of Diekirch. It was quite a lovely place, until it became another association with the evil consulting criminal mastermind trying to torture Sherlock. The cottage popped back into view quickly, John had already arrived back with food and was storing it away when his friend burst through the front door, panting for a few seconds.
"Where have you been all this time?" John questioned.
"Church."
"Really? Through the years of our time together you never stepped foot into a church until I got married, and you just happened to visit one today?"
"No, I had a small reuniting with a few familiar faces."
"Your parents?"
"No, they sit around at home with each other, very strange, not predicted to be vacationing any time soon."
"Molly?"
"Of course not, working, not one to have confidence to invite me to meet with her, definitely too awkward."
"Right, uhm...Janine?"
"Goodness no- she despises me, totally moved on, and there would've been a slap mark on my face if she saw me."
"All true...so tell me already, this is becoming very ridiculous."
"Moriarty, two of his men, and Kitty Riley."
"I'm sorry, who?"
"Reporter, trusted Moriarty, met approximately four days before I jumped off of a building. Ringing any bells?"
"Was she the one where we broke into the apartment and sat around until she came home and then Richard Brook aka Moriarty was there too? And they tried convincing me that you paid him to be your enemy?"
"Exactly. Good job, John, you remembered."
"Yeah, so what happened?"
"Not much, I was threatened, you were threatened, and someone was shot."
"What was that you said?"
"You were threatened even though you weren't physically there?"
"No, after that."
"And...?"
"Quit being smart with me."
"Reminds me of Mycroft, not a good path to be going into. Someone died."
"Who did?"
"I'm not exactly sure. I fired so the bullet would ricochet and began running without turning back."
"So either Moriarty, one of the two henchmen, or Kitty Riley was killed?"
"Yes, I'm quite sure that's what my sentence meant."
"Oh, my God." John sighed, taking his forehead into his hands.
