Eastern Winds (JohnLock)

Chapter 25 - Downfall.

A/N: So guys, I've had a busy couple of days, I've had homework as usual plus work plus another work placement for my course... So this weekend I have alot of actual family/friends stuff, I ACTUALLY HAVE A SOCIAL LIFE??? So yeah, I'll do a few updates before I leave and I promise to write more asap!

-Edenx

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Sherlock's P.O.V;

The sound of Sebastian's switch knife was enough to make me gag. All of... this, everything with Moriarty would be over soon, John would be safe, and I would be bored once again, however, right now, this is the most excited I've been in a long time concerning a case. The moment I've dreaded since my return is finally here. Another 'showdown' with James Moriarty: Consulting Criminal. Here in his home, he was about to come to an end along with Moran. I stood from my seat pulling John up with me, I stood so that he was behind me protected from the two mad men who were only seperated from us by a rather pathetic looking coffee table which I'm sure they would easily jump over. After another scan of the room I noticed everyone in the room were on their feet. Mycroft had taken a similar position to me, pushing Lestrade behind him. It's about time Mycroft admitted he felt inclined to protect the policeman.

Jim advanced on Myself and John, taking cautious steps backwards I lead us to the centre of the room so that we weren't backed into a corner, all I needed was to get Moriarty in line with one of the three considerably small windows in the room and the snipers positioned on the rooftops and in the gardens of neighbouring houses would easily scout him. The familiar malicious grin only grew farther across the mans face as we continued to walk backwards keeping John as far away from him as I could. I could feel John's hands grabbing fistfulls of my trademark coat as Moriarty continued to follow us around the room.

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Across the room Mycroft and Greg were facing a smiliar situation with Sebastian Moran. He continued to cross the room in order to reach the two men who never took their eyes off of the trained killer despite sharing whispers.

"Now Gregory, you must understand, the only way we are going to leave this room alive is if you do as I say... You remeber the plans we made, yes?"

"Yes, I do. Look Mycroft..." Greg placed a hand softly on the arm of the taller man.

"I know, Gregory, I know. I should have expressed my feelings sooner. However as I am part of the British Goverment. I believe it is my duty to protect the police force so if I am successful in my job, I would be delighted to take you out for supper one night."

"I accept, that is of course if this doesn't go south"

The unlikely pair joined hands, after years of hiding their feelings they were preparing to fight for one another, even Mycroft Holmes couldn't guarantee the lives of those he loved despite the lies it took to convince Sherlock he could...

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It wasn't long until we heard a shattering of glass and a cry of pain. Sebastian had walked into the line of fire. Idiot. Moriarty noticed my dramatic eyeroll accompanied by John's sigh of relif - one down, one to go - "Jim, if you were going to get yourself a little pet I would have assumed he would be intelligent enough that he wouldn't walk into the crosshairs willingly. I'm dissapointed, truly." 

"Sherlock, the man may have been shot but you can bet your sweet bottom he's still alive, he's a warrior. Listen," I refused to look away from his eyes "no more cries of pain, just controlled breaths. He'll be up again in no time."

"Not Bloody Likely!" It was Greg who had spoken, as he drew the gun from it's holster on his waist. Sebastian was positioning himself to throw his blade at my brother, and Greg was not going to permit that. He gave Mycroft a shove, sending him toppling to the side. You could hear the swish of the blade cutting through the air before it stuck in the wall behind where the eldest Holmes brother had stood. The blade missed by centimeters, Gregs shots did not. Two shots fired accompained by two wrecked knee caps followed by a lunge forward and a devestating blow to the head leaving Moran unconcious. Lestrade didn't even admire his work before he had rushed to my brothers aid, offering him a hand to pull him onto his feet.

Only Moriarty's screams filled the room "MY SEBBY! YOU BASTARD, I SWEAR ON MY LIFE GREG, YOU WILL REGRET THIS. I'LL KILL YOU LAST" Jim composed himself, his eyes darted to where Lestrade stood before he continued. "You get to watch your friends die. Sherlock can go just before your sorry exucse of an ass." He retrieved the pistol from his back pocket in turn so did I.

"Moriarty, you may wish to take some advice from a friend of ours, know when you are beaten. You will not be walking out of this house today, or tomorrow. Never. You'll never smell a freshly mowed lawn again or hear the sounds of the city, You'll never see London again or feel the rain on your skin. You may aswell end your misery now, the sooner the better, not even you can worm your way out of this predicament. For the sake of everyone here. Just give it up James." The man crept forwards, his movements almost silent. "This is between us now, Mycroft, Greg, My John. They needn't be here. You and I both know John will walk out of here alive, because you'll have to get through me in which time, my friend the detective insepctor over there will have put a bullet in your head before you can put one through anyone elses, infact there is nothing stopping us from killing you now. Let. Them. Leave."

He smirked. "No, no, no, no, no, John Watson will stay. He has to be here to see you lay on the floor as the cold will spread over your body. I want him to watch the blood pour from your limp, pale body as you slowly spiral out of control. I want him to watch the life drift from your eyes. I want him to see your corpse. Unless of course, you can switch places. I'll happily shoot him too." John was shifting his weight between his feet, his hands empty, his gun would be surpless with Sherlock blocking his shot, he was itching to shoot Moriarty, but he knew there was only one man in this room who needed the closure, and it was me. I had to be the one to kill James Moriarty. I am the reason we are here, and I, Sherlock Holmes, am going to be the reason we all leave. Our eyes locked, his eyes were the darkest shade of brown imaginable, they were almost black similar to his mind. All he saw was darkness, his thoughts tainted by it.

The man was the walking embodyment of the Nietzsche quote if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.

Moriarty had spent so long searching for the darkness he now found my own eyes staring into his own. We were similar, both lost in a world of murders. Our minds are alike, stimulated by the crimes, murders and the misfortune of others. Yet here we stand aiming guns at one another, yes I am a dark man but I was redeemed from the darkness by John Watson. John, he has been a life saver, in both the metaphorical and physical sense of the word. He's killed people for me, and I must now do the same. I promised myself from the day I began this line of work that I would not give anyone the satisfaction of becoming the 'killer' they all presumed I would. Not Donovan, not Anderson, not one of the incompitent police officers would be right, but I have no choice. The saftey was already off and so with my finger on the trigger I began to slowly apply pressure making sure he would not do the same. The only thing I knew for certain was that Moriarty was only to leave this room in a body bag.

"Goodbye Sherlock, our time together has been magnificent, we were meant to find eachother you and I." The familiar Irish voice filled the room around us. It was eerily quiet for a moment. Although he didn't know, those would be the mans last words. It was then Moriarty lunged towards me, pulling the trigger of his own gun. However, his lunge placed him in the crosshairs of one of the multiple snipers. Before I could comprehend the multiple sounds of gunshots and shattering windows I found myself on the floor with John falling roughly atop of me. I could hear Mycroft talking to Greg across the room in hushed whispers, their hands linked once more and I could see Jim's lifeless body surrounded by a pool of blood about a foot away. I was waiting for the pain of the gunshot to engulf me, but it didn't come. Moriarty had a clear shot, how did the bullet miss? It couldn't have. Oh but it could if...

John.