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Moriarty is smiling. He is standing by the edge of the roof and just smiling at Sherlock, his eyes staring at Sherlock as if to invite him further on to the roof.
Something in Sherlock protests this. A man who was about to die- who knew he was about to die- should not be smiling. Sherlock refuses to move closer, reminding in his position just outside the access door.
‘Where’s your pet?’ Moriarty asks, breaking the silent standoff.
‘As if you don’t know.’ John was safe, back at Baker street and thinking that Sherlock will be back soon and all will be okay. If this works, John will be heartbroken. But...he’ll be alive to be heartbroken.
That’s all that matters.
Moriarty smiles. ‘Are you so sure?’ Before Sherlock can ask what Moriarty means or deduce it for himself, his phone dings to alert him to a text. Sherlock’s blood freezes as the phone starts to ring.
‘Oops.’ Moriarty smirks. ‘Your little pet is coming. Better hurry this up.’
Something was wrong, this wasn’t right. But Sherlock couldn’t figure out why, couldn’t devote any brainpower to it because John was coming. He was running out of time.
He takes a few steps forward, moves to stand halfway between the access door and the roof. ‘What do you want?’
Even as he says it, Sherlock knows he’s said the wrong thing. Moriarty’s face contorts, becomes a mask of rage. ‘You can’t even figure that out? Has your little pet dulled your thoughts that much that you can’t even see what’s right in front of you?’
‘John is the best of me.’
‘He’s the reason you’re going to fail. You know, I thought hastening your death would be a work of art. My final problem. But now-’ He shakes his head. ‘now, I wonder why I’m giving you this gift. Your life for his, the universe tricked and a puzzle solved. And you don’t deserve it!’ The last line is shouted, Moriarty moving so he’s screaming in Sherlock’s face.
The door behind Sherlock bangs open.
‘Sherlock?’
Sherlock spins, disbelief on his face. ‘John?’ This is impossible; John was at Baker Street and too far to make it here now but he’s here so it must merely be improbable.
John sizes up the scene in a moment. ‘Sherlock.’ He repeats, his tone containing a warning that is both aimed at Sherlock and warning Moriarty off.
‘Oh I do love a cliffhanger.’ Moriarty says from behind Sherlock and John tenses. It’s instinct that makes Sherlock move, attempting to keep John out of Moriarty’s line of sight.
‘Now Sherlock, here’s your choice. Your life or your pets. Can you trick the universe?’
‘What’s he talking about Sherlock?’ John asks, taking a step and trying to be a hero by moving between Sherlock and Moriarty, damn him. Sherlock mirrors the move, trying to make it clear that it is not happening.
John ignores him and takes another step. There’s the sound of a step behind from Sherlock meaning Moriarty is mirroring John. Sherlock grits his teeth and matches John’s step while also taking a step backwards..
‘Nothing to concern your small mind with, John. Go away.’ Sherlock tries to make his tone of voice harsh but it comes out almost pleading.
‘Not without you.’
Moriarty laughs from behind Sherlock. ‘Not with him either.’ There’s a rustle of Moriarty’s coat and Sherlock knows without looking that he has drawn a gun. And he’s probably pointing it at his head
And John can see it. Sherlock’s eyes meet John’s and he sees the apology in them as John charges at Moriarty, hitting Sherlock’s shoulder and pushing him to the side as he passes. Sherlock falls, trying to twist in mid air so he can see the men behind him.
He succeeds as Moriarty stumbles backwards under the force of John’s charge and the pair fall while John tries to grab at the gun. Sherlock’s eyes widen as he realises Moriarty was standing too close to the edge-
‘John!’ He screams as Moriarty’s legs hit the ledge and the pair tumble over it.
‘John!’ Sherlock calls again, his voice breaking. He forces himself to his feet and moves towards the ledge.
‘Sherlock!’ Sherlock keeps moving ignoring the echo of John’s voice he could swear he’s hearing. He peers over the ledge, watching the crowd frantically race towards the two men lying on the ground. It’s really too far to tell but Sherlock almost fancies he can see the blood dripping down John’s face.
A tear drops down to join the body of his lover as Sherlock backs away from the ledge and his legs give way.
‘Sherlock, please...’
Sherlock’s eyes catch on the gun, that must have fallen from Moriarty’s grip as he fell. Some strength comes back to him as he wonders if he can still beat the universe, can still defy his numbers...maybe trick it into a miracle.
‘Sherlock!’
Sherlock jerks awake, the last sounds of his voice fading in his ears. John is above him, eyes wide and his hands on Sherlock’s shoulders.
'John.’ He whispers before surging forward and pulling John into a fierce kiss. He keeps the kiss going until breathing is more than a problem. He falls back but moves his hand to John’s left arm, tracing the numbers there. 29-06-2037, the universe’s promise to him. Them.
‘I’m okay Sherlock.’ But John’s hand creeps onto his right arm, tracing the numbers there.
‘I know.’ But he doesn’t let go and they sit together for a long time, waiting for the sun to rise and chase the last of Moriarty away.