Double W.Holmes

His Game

"You're still alive, why? You blew your brain out you freaking frankenstein!" I shouted loudly. Apart from discredit him, I felt angry the more.

"Come on. Combine a fake gun with fake blood, what would you get? A fake death you doofus!" he said, voice raised at the back of his sentence. "I knew you guys will fall for it, I'm disappointed in you guys……bla bla bla, boring."

I followed him to the security room, but keeping a distance with him. Yes, I'm scared. But for Sherlock, for our boy, I'm brave enough to go through any obstacles and hardships just to ensure their safety. It's time for rescue save-me-a-lot Sherlock, as a pay back for the times he gone through with me, happiness, sadness, excitation, more and more. Sherlock wasn't only my flatmate anymore, which what we were years ago. Neither we're acquaintances, flatmates or friends. We were more than that. Soulmates, we called. Me and Sherlock were attached, born to be together. After both of us were in relationship, it turned out Sherlock had spent more time on me rather on experiments and cases. I'm not used to get attention from anybody, but Sherlock is an exclusion.

I entered the room, and it was bigger that I expected. There's almost enough room for about 10 persons. Screens and monitors surrounded us, showing images captured by security cameras.

"I just want you to do something simple for me." He said, "Three hours. All you need is just look at these. No one knew what will happen to your precious Sherlock boy and your baby."

I want to punch him in the face really hard. My hands gripped hard nearly pierced into my skin. Furious. Just furious. The feeling enraged me from head to toe. I managed to keep the rage down for not letting him to take away.

"Why? Why are you doing this?"

"Experiment."

"You're bloody sick! What do you want?!"

"Oh it's a secret. I won't be fun if I tell you."

That's it! I had enough! Before I can do anything, he had went out from the room, and locked the door. Yes he bloody locked the door!

*   *   *
Two and a half hours passed. The good thing was nothing happened, except there's a time Sherlock woke up but fainted again. I'm pretty sure that he was just low in blood sugar. Happens all the time.

It all started by the time that I thought it just all a joke, something caught my sight. Looked like he's standing up-nope, Sherlock was been dragged up on his feet  like a lifeless puppet. His shoulders held high as though strings attached on it.

A big man showed up from one of the doors. I don't encounter many tough men and I'm sure I knew this one. One of Moriarty's men. The one that Sherlock had tortured years ago.
He looked up into the cam, seemed like smiling viciously towards me. He made his position, pulled out a revolver and, bang.

Bang. The sound echoed endlessly in my mind. Years back I've heard so much that I went numb. But this time, one sound enough to break through my ear drum and penetrate into my unfunctioning brain.

"Sherl-" I couldn't do anything as my feets rooted and my mind went blank.

The blood on the pavement.

Now, the blood beside the pool.

*   *   *

I really wished that this entirely thing was a joke. A fake incident made up by Sherlock just to let me grieve, just like when we on one of the missing train. Nope. It was real. The poor wooden door sacrificed as I banged it open with a fire extinguisher. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me to where the incident took place. And there he is, deadly motionless, killer gone nowhere.

I don't know when was the time I got a face full of tears, hugging the corpse that covered in blood and went colder and colder by the time.

Splashed with scarlet.

Pulse nowhere be found.

Heartbroken.

"William……Alexandra….."

"Sherlock, we haven't decide a name for our boy."

"How about William?"

"No bloody way. Hamish."

"Hell no. Mycroft."

"God no! Calling him Mycroft it's like seeing my brother in every second. Oh, Alexandra might be great."

"I know you got it from the Internet."

"Everyone got it from the Internet."

"Well, Alexandra it is."

I knew there was no use for dialling anyone now, neither Bart's, Lestrade, Molly or even the mighty British government-Mycroft could resurrect a dead person. So I just let Sherlock in my arm, treasure every last second I could stay with him and with my boy.