Side of the Angels ~ A BBC Sherlock Fanfiction {Book II} *UNDER EDITING*

Chapter 63- Lingering

Emily's POV

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Somewhere, a phone starts to ring.

I frown in my sleep, puzzled, trying to locate the source of the sound. It takes me a few seconds of lucid dreaming to realise that it's my phone ringing, and if I don't wake up imminently, I'll miss the call. I force my eyes open, and grope around in the dark until my hands close around the thin edges. I pick it up, answer it without looking, and hold it to my ear, retreating under the covers-

"Hello?"

"Emily, I need to speak to you, it can't wait-"

"Sherlock?! Do you know what time it is?"

"Yes. It's half past three in the morning, GMT. But that's-"

"I don't care, Sherlock. Call me in the morning-"

"It is the morning, I just told you so. This can't wait."

I make a noise that's a cross between exasperation and agitation.

"Fine. Although if this is just for computer advice again, I swear to god that I will inflict all kinds of bodily pain upon your person."

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"No. No- I'm sorry, Sherlock, but I can't do that."

"You don't have to do anything. I'll lead, you just need to act along. It's actually very easily orchestrated, if you just-"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Why not?! Because it won't work. He's not going to react. I don't hold enough significance in his life to be considered a weak spot, trust me, I would know. It's just going to humiliate both of us. And think about what it would do to Millie. I don't care what you tell me, she values you more than you  fully appreciate. I'm not going to do that to her, just so you can gain an advantage in a game."

Sherlock is silent for a while, then-

"Emily, did you read about my 'suicide' in the papers?"

"Yes...?"

"That is an example of how far I was prepared to go, to stop a game. I betrayed John to save him. He hated me for it, and I don't think he will truly ever forgive me, but, for two years, I'd stopped the destruction of people who didn't deserve to die. If I can do that, you can sacrifice your dignity for a couple of minutes and assist me in an experiment. If it doesn't work, we'll explain to everyone why we did it- but if it does work, then we're at a crucial advantage. You'd be in control. And then all we'd need to do is make the right moves. We could end his games, Emily, and it would all be over."

"Sherlock, you and I both know that the end of this game has to result in one of your deaths. Are you actually suggesting that we drive him to suicide?"

"Yes."

I look bleakly at the dark wall. He senses my discomfort, and says-

"We can't get a man like Moriarty locked up, because he'd find a way out. We can't get him to stop, because he has no conscience. I can't end it with my death. I can assure you I would, without hesitation- but I can't put John through that again. Or Millie."

He says the words flatly, without obvious emotion, but I know that it's exceedingly difficult for a person like Sherlock to express such sentiment without obvious sarcasm. I take a deep breath-

"I understand. But I don't think that what you're suggesting is going to, by any stretch of the imagination, trigger Moriarty's sudden suicide. I'm not that important."