Pretend it's Cluedo

A book

Dedicated to tivianengel for being a consistent reader and voter: this conclusion is for you, I hope you like it! And thank you to all other voters and viewers! Over 300 views and over 50 votes, it may not seem like a lot but still thank you! :) now on with the story...

**

"Your friends are very slow, Mr. Holmes."
"Speed is not key, Moran." Sherlock was surprised by the sight he found on the roof top, though he did note Moran was not the most original of criminal; lack of intelligence? Sherlock expected it was more likely lack of knowledge of difference.

Moran had a very simplistic set up on the roof top, this was the main surprise to Sherlock: he had expected extravagance, but no, Mycroft was there, tied to a chair, and gagged, not to Sherlock's surprise. There was a computer on which their was a live feed to where ever his parents were being kept, also not to Sherlock's surprise. Sherlock had been left free to roam the roof top, also a very Moriaty-esque move. Sherlock was currently leaning against a chimney.

"Then what is, Mr. Holmes, what is the key?" Moran paused, and moved form where his was sat on the ledge to be only a few feet in front of Sherlock. "What is the key? What is the key even for? Will this key free us from this hellish existence? Will the key bring back the past? Will the key change the past?-"
"If I may interrupt."
"Oh, I insist."
"Perhaps the key is learning to live with the past?"
Moran laughed, it was a laugh that would've scared Sherlock if he had cared to pay attention to it. "What's so funny?" Sherlock was somewhat confused.
"Many things, Mr. Holmes. For someone so clever you aren't half dense-" Moran paused, "you are not the most observant."
He had just corrected himself, Sherlock thought, it backed up his theory Moran was working class trying to fill Moriarty's upper class shoes.
Before Sherlock had the chance to comment, Moran's phone buzzed in the pocket of his suit jacket - which Sherlock noted was of the cheap variety, the crash had really hit them hard, Sherlock inwardly chuckled.
"It appears your friends have arrived. And by friends I mean this "John" guy you're so affected by. I don't personally see it." He paused. "But I suppose each to their own."
Sherlock was surprised (at last, properly surprised he noted), John alone? They had a plan, he was surprised that Moran hadn't realised this, though as he was beginning to understand Moran, he was beginning to notice a lack of IQ, and that in all likeliness Moriarty had kept him around because he was a good shot, and probably good in bed.

The two men waited in silence until John pushed open the door to the roof and joined them.

"Watson." Moran curtly nodded.
"Moran." John replied bypassing Moran and hugging Sherlock. "You stupid git." He hissed at Sherlock, he placed a subtle kiss on his cheek and turned back to Moran.
"As much as you two are so "cute", I have a show to put on." Moran walked over to a small mass covered by a white sheet and pulled from it two folded up chairs, and some rope. He placed the chairs down next to Mycroft. "I know you'll do what I say, Mr. Holmes, but will I be needed this," he skilfully whipped a gun from his pocket, "to persuade your lover?"
John smirked at Sherlock, ten sat down on chair next to Mycroft. Sherlock followed.
"Are you coming to tie us up then, Moran?" John paused, another smirk pulling on his face. "Would this be more or less kinky, to you, when we're tied up, I wonder?"
Moran ignored John's comments, Sherlock noted a lack of guts. Sherlock caught John's eye, something in John's gaze reassured him, but he had yet to deduce what was going on. Why were the musketeers outwitting him?

"Now, Mr. Holmes-"
"I exist too, you know?" John interrupted.
"You're making me wish I'd persuaded you, Watson."
"Why do you call him Watson?" Sherlock turned to look at the speaker. It appeared whilst Moran had been dealing with him and John, Mycroft had manoeuvred his gag.
"Why do I what? I thought I gagged you." Moran walked towards Mycroft, turning his back towards John and Sherlock. John nodded towards a nearby building, Sherlock looked. He caught a glimpse of Lestrade's grey hair, and a rifle. So that was their plan.
"Why do you call John, Watson? You call Sherlock and I by Mr."
"He has a point." John added.
"Elder, Younger, and Watson. I'm sure you can deduce, the Younger."
Sherlock smirked. "For some reason you have no respect for John, but you have respect for Mycroft and I. Whatever did John do?" Sherlock paused.
"He'll get there eventually." Moran said, just to vex Sherlock.
"You married a daughter of the taxi driver, right? You both blame John for his death and the tarnishing to your name." Sherlock paused. "You're dumber than I thought you'd be. Moriarty's standards are slipping." Sherlock smirked. Moran stepped forwards and smacked Sherlock across his right cheek.
"Don't. Talk. About. Him."
"I think I hit a nerve, eh John?"
"No shit, Sherlock."
"Fuck you Watson." It was Moran. He had his gun back out and aimed at John.
"3...2...1..." Sherlock counted down.
"What?" Moran demanded.
"That." Sherlock countered, nodding his head towards the red laser now pointing at Moran's chest. "Nice touch with the "no shit Sherlock"."
John smiled. "It was Lestrade's idea."
"What is the meaning of this?" Moran lowers his gun, and tried to pin point where the laser was from.
"You can replicate "him" so why can't we?" Sherlock replied, catching where the trios plan was going.
Moran audibly hissed, before moving towards Mycroft. Before raising his gun, and hitting his with the butt of it, causing Mycroft to lull forward, unconscious, then did the same to John.
"John!" Sherlock shuffled his chair towards John and Moran.
"Seriously? I don't see what you see in him." Moran shook his head, then untied Sherlock. Untied him? Moran was madder than Sherlock had first assumed.
Sherlock stood and stretched. "Why?"
"A change on an old tale." Moran smiled, a sad smile. There was a knock on the door. "Gregory, I assume?" Moran called, and much to Sherlock's surprise Lestrade stepped onto the roof, armed.
"Definitely a change in an old tale, Moran."
"Reichenbach hero falls. Reichenbach hero falls." Moran started methodically chanting. "I'm so changeable. Did you miss me? Did you miss me?" He walked slowly towards the edge, in time with his words. "Angels. Demons. Guns. Falling. Flying." It began to drizzle, the fine kind of rai, that makes you very wet without you realising. The type that clears the air. The kind that makes you look up to the heavens and be thankful that you are alive.

But Moran was too far gone to see these effects of the rain, he kept moving, kept changing. Sherlock was bolted to the spot, watching the mad man walk towards the edge. Moran stepped up into the ledge. He turned, and placed his gun on the ledge.
"It's raining,
It's pouring,
Sherlock is boring.
I'm laughing,
I'm crying,
Sherlock is dying." How did he know that-?

Sherlock had not time to finish his thought, before Moran jumped backwards off the ledge. Time seemed to almost stop. Sherlock and Lestrade both ran to the edge, watched Moran fall. Then Lestrade snatched the gun from the ledge, before Sherlock had the chance. Sherlock fell to the floor. He wasn't sure why. Lestrade practically dragged him back towards the door to the stairs. Molly ran out of the door. Sirens could be heard everywhere. Lestrade's team were at the base of the building. Doctors were running out onto the roof, to John and Mycroft, both of whom were now semi-lucid. Sherlock turned his head to see on the screen it appeared armed police men were retrieving his parents...

He started to cry, he couldn't help it. He knew this was all a game. It's all a game. But it could of ended differently. Moran wasn't a bad man, he didn't deserve to die. He had been bred to kill by Moriarty, he had been trained to the point at which it made him as unstable as his boss. It was all one big game. He didn't have to pretend it was Cluedo, because that's what it was. And the victim did kill himself. Sherlock was right...

And Mycroft owed him a book.

A/n: almost done! Just an epilogue (which is mostly written)! I hope you all enjoyed this, thank you again for reading this.