His Doctor~

Chapter 32

Jo-Ann flew out of the cab she used to get back to 221B, believing she was about to spend her last moments with her beloved landlady. The poor woman was apparently shot and the doctor was rushing to her aid when she nearly crashed through the door of the flat. One minor detail, however, told Jo-Ann that Mrs. Hudson was perfectly fine. The old woman was standing right in the hallway, smiling up at a repairman who was fixing a bad electrical circuit.

“Oh, Jo-Ann! You made me jump.” The Mrs. Hudson laughed. The doctor stared in complete bewilderment, wasn’t she dying? Wounded? Scratched?  

“But…” she tried to fathom the circumstances as she stared with wide eyes.

“Is everything alright now with the police?” Mrs. Hudson asked innocently. “Has Sherlock sorted it all out?”

Sherlock…

Sherlock!

“Oh… my God…” Jo-Ann nearly whispered as it all made sense. She ignored any further questions from her landlady as she dashed out the door, feeling as though her legs could move as fast as light. Her voice called out to call a taxi and she jumped in the nearest one, having to take it from another patron whose destination was surely not as important as hers. She needed to get to St. Barts as quickly as possible. Who knew what that blasted detective would do on his own at this point?

Sherlock Holmes you bastard, stay out of trouble. God, you better be alright. Jo-Ann thought as the tremor in her hand became active on her lap.

Sherlock watched the crimson blood run from Moriarty’s head, acting mortified as the last fragments of the gunshot echo rang. Snipers were watching his every move as he continued in character, running his hands through his hair and glancing in circles. He knew his nemesis would commit suicide, which was his intention throughout this entire game. Moriarty wanted to die alongside Sherlock, ending their lives together so that neither of them would need to find another match. Their intellect was equal as far as Jim knew, and he couldn’t possibly go through finding someone else worth playing with. However, Sherlock foresaw this ending and made preparations. He played his role so far, and now it was time to finish the fairytale.

The repairman was assigned to Mrs. Hudson, an office worker to Lestrade, and a man in black to Jo-Ann.

Sherlock stepped up on the ledge of St. Bart’s, getting out his phone to contact the Princess one last time. The cab pulled up the street and stopped on the opposite side. His heart clenched when he saw Jo-Ann step out, clearly in a hurry. This was the moment he was dreading most, his note, because it meant breaking of ties with London, with normal life, with the one he loved most. The speed-dial fired the call to her phone, and Sherlock watched her take it out at the spot he needed her to be.   

“Hello?” Jo-Ann answered without looking at the caller ID.

This is it. Sherlock thought.

“Jo-Ann.”

“Hey, Sherlock, you okay?” she asked worriedly and started jogging towards St. Bart’s, threating to cross the street.

“Turn around and walk back the way you came.” The detective instructed.

“No, I’m coming in.” Jo-Ann argued but with a hint of confusion.

“Just do as I ask!” if she wasn’t confused before she was now. Sherlock never used that tone unless he was really begging. She stopped walking. “Please.” His voice cracked. Jo-Ann turned around at that pitiful sound and began walking back.

“Where?” She continued to walk along the side of the street. “Wher-”

“Stop there.” Sherlock’s slightly fuzzy voice commanded over the phone. But his tone wasn’t normal, it wasn’t cold and intelligent, it was sad and desperate. She stopped and was now directly across from the hospital, looking around for him. “Okay, look up, I’m on the rooftop.” Sherlock said quickly. Jo-Ann looked where she was told, expecting to see him attached to a zip-line or holding out some secret agent to get information, but he wasn’t. Her detective stood on the ledge, only holding his phone with his coat un-buttoned and looking down at her.