Guns, Games, and Mutual Appreciation ~ A BBC Sherlock Fanfiction {Book I}

Chapter 30- Wounded

 Millie's POV

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"Hello boys. Millie. Doesn't this place just bring back the memories?" says an all too familiar Irish accent, almost joking, but not quite.

Moriarty strides out from behind the row of dark changing rooms, grinning broadly, his hands clasped together. He looks to his left, and says-

"Come on. They're expecting you."

Irene walks out, head down, avoiding eye contact. She looks so different from the woman I met back at apartment 221B. She's still pretty; still voluptuous, still expensively attired, but her face- it's drawn and strained, with dark circles shadowing her eyes and her hair, although coiffed perfectly, looks lank and limp. 

"Right. Shall we?" says Moriarty, approaching Sherlock, then stopping suddenly.

He rolls his eyes, and says, sounding disappointed-

"I'd love to think you were just excited at the prospect of seeing me again, and I'm all for reminiscing, but really, bringing the same gun to the same swimming pool? You could have at least tried to be original."

"I could say the same to you." says Sherlock.

Moriarty considers this, then nods.

"Fair enough. Well, it's a good thing you did. I really don't want to get mine dirty."

"What are you talking about?" says John, a little too sharply.

"We need to end the game, Sherlock," says Moriarty, softly, not looking at John.

Silence.

"We've been here before. You're losing your touch. Getting repetitive,"says Sherlock, his tone coldly taunting. "I'm not going to kill myself."

"But you have to. I didn't stay alive for just any reason. Don't you remember? The final problem, Sherlock."

Silence.

"Shall I add another incentive? I made a mistake, last time. I was too... complicated. Today, I'm keeping it simple. John, Millie, you will die if Sherlock doesn't. Don't bother trying to pull off a suicide heist. I'm watching this time. And trust me, I'm a lot harder to fool than John Watson."

John straightens up slightly, looking like he would like nothing more than to rip the gun off Sherlock and point it at Moriarty's smiling face.

"I can just kill you now," says Sherlock.

Moriarty laughs:

"I know you could. And by all means, go for it. But I have people working for me, Sherlock. When they find out that I'm dead, they'll do the deed for me. I've offered them billions. All it takes is a quick shot, two bullets, and you're left alone. With no-one. Except your conscience. You killed your friends," he says, looking up at Sherlock through dark eyes.

"No.. no, he doesn't have to do this. Don't listen to him Sherlock. We've been here before. We can work it out," says John, urgency creeping into his voice.

"Irene," says Sherlock simply.

She looks up.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock." 

Moriarty chuckles and says- "Isn't that adorable. Shame neither of you will be around to consummate your love. Ah well. Modern day Romeo and Juliet... much sexier."

Silence.

 "What will you do, if Sherlock dies?" I say, stepping out of the shadows and looking steadily at Moriarty. He looks surprised at my unexpected appearance. Then, he puts his hands into his pocket, and says-

"Good question... I'll be desperately bored, of course. Or dead, depending on Sherlock's choice. But either way, I'll have won our game. So I'll be happy, Millie Shon."

This man is a different calibre of psychopath.

"So... Where were we?... That's right," he says, miming holding a gun up to his head.

Sherlock is white. He is thinking, rapidly. Trying to work out where the loopholes are. Trying to deduce an escape, an alternative- and by the look on his face, he's not having much luck.

"How do I know," he begins slowly. "That you won't just shoot Millie and John after I'm dead?"

"You have my word. Don't believe me? Good. Irene, catch-" he pulls out the familiar silver gun and tosses it towards Irene, who looks at it for a moment, then bends to pick it up. He gestures to his expensive suit- "You're more than welcome to search me. I'm not armed."

He then drops his jovial tone, and looks at Sherlock, unblinking.

"If you die, Sherlock, your friends will live. I promise you that."

I believe him.

If Sherlock died, our deaths would be irrelevant. He would have nothing to gain.

Sherlock believes him too.

"Do you want your friends to die?"

"No."

"Then pull that trigger. Go on. It's you or me."

Sherlock looks at everyone in the room.

"Sherlock, please-" begins John, and his voice is choked.

"Shut up, John." Sherlock says, with a hint of a smile. It's an old joke.

"Sherlock." I begin, "Sherlock- don't do this. Think about John. Think about what you'd do to him. I would miss you. We need you."

He looks at us all, and then takes a deep breath. 

"I want a moment."

Moriarty's expression doesn't change. He nods, and takes a few steps backwards. Irene is standing very still, eyes closed, lips pressed together.

"John," says Sherlock. "I want you to know that you don't need me."

"Sherlock-"

"No. You have Millie."

And he holds out a hand to John. I expect Moriarty to scoff, but he says nothing. John looks at his hand, and pulls Sherlock in to a fierce hug.

"You," he says, his voice cracked with tears, " Are the most arrogant, self-righteous, incredible man I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. You're my best friend, Sherlock. I don't want to go through this again. I can't go through this again."

But Sherlock pulls away. He walks over to me.

"Thankyou, Millie. Look after John for me?"

"Of course."

And then I surprise myself by hugging Sherlock too. I hold on to him very tightly, and say nothing. I don't have words, not this time.

Sherlock looks long and hard at Irene. Then he smiles at her, and says: "Stay out of trouble." She makes a very quiet noise that could be laughter, or maybe a sob.

Sherlock then pulls out his gun, and rests the barrel on his temple. I don't want to see this. He closes his eyes, and presses his lips together. Moriarty leans forward slightly, his expression unreadable, but the intensity in his eyes is so acute it's almost painful.

His fingers tighten around the handle.

His eyelid flutter slightly.

He takes a deep breath in. 

There's a horrible, pulsing silence, then-

The gun shot reverberates off the walls.

"Sherlock!"

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