Only Yours

15

Previously;

'Here it is, John. This is your choice. I know you hate the baby. I know you love Sherlock. But you've surprised me in the past. Maybe you will surprise me again.' He looks confused. God, I hate it when they do it. So ordinary. 'You have to choose which one of these two I shoot. The other one can go free with you.' John's eyes widen as he realises what I am saying. Finally.

'Do you want Sherlock to live,' one guard points the gun at the infant, 'or his son? Your choice, John. You have a minute.'

Moriarty's P.O.V

The look of shock on his face is priceless.

'I SOOO want to take a picture! Ha!' I clap my hands and turn around, walking in a circle. 'Finally, I have you all. To. My. Self. And think about the decision! If you save Sherlock, he will hate you for killing his son. If you save the brat, Sherlock will be gone forever. What do you choose, John Watson?' he is still completely silent.

I hate it when they go silent. I hate it I hate it I hate it.

'Come on John...' when he doesn't reply I snap. 'COME ON!' he flinches and I love the feeling of power I get from that. 'Well...seeing as we are old friends...do you want to know how I did it?' he nods frantically. I know he's just buying himself more time but do I care? No. He'll die anyway.

What, do you really think I'll let him go?

'I suppose I'll start at the top then Johnny. I have all the time in the world... unlike you. Now beg. Beg for all three of your lives.' My face is inches from him as I whisper this to him...then he spits in my face.

I stand still for a moment before gently wiping the saliva off my face. 'Johnny. That wasn't smart. Now beg.' He still won't talk so I walk up to him and trail a finger down the left side of his face. As I reach a large bruise on his neck he spits again and I slap him, hard.

'No Sherly to protect you, Johnny. No one here but us. Now beg.' He stares at me defiantly. Annoying. The ones that cry and beg for their lives are so much funnier.

'Well...if you are going to be difficult...' I send a brief signal to the bodyguard who instantly points his loaded gun at Sherlock's upper leg. John's eyes widen and he starts struggling against the guard. Finally. He's reacting.

'Do you know what will happen if I give Eddy here the order to shoot, John? The bullet will hit his upper leg artery. He will die, certainly, but he will bleed first. It will take at least forty minutes. And I will make you watch. Now, beg, John. Beg.'

He falls to his knees and raises his hands up. 'Please, please...' his eyes are brimming with tears and I resist the temptation to take a picture. So unprofessional.

I move forwards again and bend down so my mouth is right next to his ear. 'NO!' I burst out laughing and see two guards exchanging looks. They won't live to see tomorrow.

'Where were we then, Johnny? Oh yes. Well, of course I had others up on that roof. Who do you think I am? I knew Sherlock would work it out. I knew that the only way to convince him to jump would be to fake my own death so he knew there was no way he could save you and the housekeeper and that detective.' I snarl as I think about Mycroft's new fuck buddy. I hate it when I get feelings like this. It almost convinces me that I care. I hate it.

Jealously.

I push it to the back of my mind and refocus on the cowering man in front of me. 'The thing was, John, I wasn't on the roof. On the roof was Richard Brook.' John's mouth falls open and I laugh again, louder than before. 'Very good, eh, John?'