The Reichenbach Falls (Part 2)

TWO MONTHS LATER...

I am walking around London towards an elegant white painted building which has a brass plaque outside declaring the venue to be a place I know well to discuss things with Mycroft.

I looked over to see John Watson nearby as I know what is going to happen now.

THE DIOGENES CLUB...

John and I goes inside and enters a large room which – back when the building used to be a house – was probably a drawing room. A large marble fireplace surrounds an unlit fire and the walls have heavy wooden panelling and ornate white plaster coving. The room contains five small round tables, each with a single armchair beside it, and four of the chairs are currently occupied by smartly dressed middle aged or elderly gentlemen reading newspapers and taking no notice of each other or of the new arrival. John and I looked around and then we walked over to one of the older men sitting at the far end of the room.

"Hi. We're looking for Mycroft Holmes." I said, while the old man's face became appalled but he didn't look up.

"Would you happen to know if he's around at all?" John asked, as some of the other inhabitants of the room behind the army doctor and I look round at us but don't speak. "Can you not hear us?"

The old man looks up at us, huffing indignantly.

"Hi." I said, holding out a placatory hand to the old man. "Okay. Okay."

John turns around to the others in the room.

"Anyone?" John asked, and the others turn their faces away from him and I. "Anyone at all know where Mycroft Holmes is? We've been asked to meet him here."

The old man lifts his walking stick and pushes the end of it repeatedly onto a button on the nearby wall. A distant bell rings. John looks around in confusion while the gentlemen either ignore him or look at him in annoyance.

"No takers? Right." John said, raising his voice. "Are we invisible? Can you actually see us?"

Just then two men wearing dress coats walk into the room. John turns to them.

"Ah, thanks, gents." John said, while behind him, the elderly gentleman flapped his hand frantically at the new arrivals as if to say, 'Get him out of here!'

"Sorry, John. Guys. You know what to do." I said, as the dress coated men, wearing white gloves and soft white overshoes to muffle their footsteps, walk briskly over to John.

"We've been asked to meet Mycroft Holm..." John said, and he breaks off as the men walk either side of him and firmly seize his arms. "What the ...? Hey! Jared! Tell them to let me go!"

"You're right, Mycroft." I said, as they almost lift John off his feet, one of them puts his other hand over John's mouth to silence him. His muffled protests continue while they rapidly bundle him out of the room with me walking behind the men. "This is more fun."

Shortly afterwards, John has been taken to a smaller room with me behind him and I closed the door firmly behind us. Mycroft is in the room with him and pours himself a drink from a crystal decanter.

"Tradition, John, Jared. Our traditions define us." Mycroft said.

"So total silence is traditional, is it? You can't even say, 'Pass the sugar.'" John said.

"Three-quarters of the diplomatic service and half the government front bench all sharing one tea trolley. It's for the best, believe me." Mycroft said, smiling round at John and I but then his face becomes more grim as he walks towards three armchairs in the middle of the room. "They don't want a repeat of 1972. But we can talk in here."

"Makes sense." I said, and John walks to a small table and picks up a copy of 'The Sun' which is lying on it. "Was a car shipped over to Dulles International Airport? And it is on standby to the point of not being towed?"

"Of course." Mycroft said, while John brandished the newspaper at him. "Miracle Day is fast approaching."

"You read this stuff?" John asked.

"Caught my eye." Mycroft said.

"Mmm-hmm." John said, as he and I are sitting in two of the armchairs.

"This Saturday, they're doing a big exposé." I said, and John read the announcement at the top of the front page. "Kitty Riley wrote the piece."

The headline reads: 'SHERLOCK: THE SHOCKING TRUTH' with the strapline 'Close Friend Richard Brook Tells All'. The article reveals that it is an Exclusive from Kitty Riley and the text reads: 'Super-sleuth Sherlock Holmes has today been exposed as a fraud in a revelation that will shock his new found base of adoring fans. // Out-of-work actor Richard Brook revealed exclusively to THE SUN that he was hired by Holmes in an elaborate deception to fool the British public into believing Holmes had above-average 'detective skills'. // Brook, who has known Holmes for decades and until recently considered him to be a close friend, said he was at first desperate for the money, but later found he had no...'.

"Right, you said you didn't like her when we were at the Old Bailey. I'd love to know where she got her information." John said, looking at me. "Is this why?"

"Someone called Brook. Recognise the name?" Mycroft asked, while John lowers the paper and shakes his head.

"School friend, maybe?" John asked, as  Mycroft laughs in a snide way.

"Of Sherlock's?" Mycroft asked, chuckling again. "But that's not why I asked you and Jared here."

"It isn't. I knew about this for a few months now." I said, walking to a side table, picking up several folders before returning to John and gives him one of the them. "Take a look, John."

John opens the file and looks at the photograph on the top page.

"Who's that?" John asked.

"Do you not know him?" I asked.

"No."

"Have you not seen him before?"

"Umm ..." John said, looking at the photo again.

"He's taken a flat in Baker Street, two doors down from you and Jared." Mycroft said.

"Hmm! I was thinking of doing a drinks thing for the neighbours." John said, smiling sarcastically up at Mycroft who looks back at him straight-faced while I did a face palm.

"We are not getting together to have drinks with them." I said, nodding towards the folder. "Mycroft, tell him who's in that one."

"With pleasure. Sulejmani. Albanian hit squad. Expertly-trained killer living less than twenty feet from your front door." Mycroft said.

"It's a great location. Jubilee line's handy." John said, happily.

"John ... Now is not the time for jokes." I said, sadly.

"Mycroft, what's it got to do with me and Jared?" John asked, looking at Mycroft.

"Dyachenko, Ludmila." Mycroft said, walking over and giving John another of the files.

Mycroft sits down opposite John and I, who lets out a long tired groan as the army doctor opens the file and looks at the photograph inside before frowning a little.

"Um, actually, I think I have seen her." John said.

"Russian killer. She's taken the flat opposite." Mycroft said.

"Okay ... I'm sensing a pattern here." John said, now sounding a little nervous.

"We're lucky most of the international assassins from Academy City were wiped out during a Battle Royale. But that didn't stop some." I said, handing John the rest of the files. "Four top international assassins relocated to living close to 221B Baker Street."

"Jared's right, John. Do either of you have anything you care to share with me?" Mycroft asked, while John chuckles, looking at the photographs of the other assassins, then looks up at Sherlock's older brother.

"We're moving?!" John exclaimed.

"That's one of the options we have to take." I said, as Mycroft looks back at John and I unamused, then narrows his eyes. "Unfortunately."

"It isn't. It's not hard to guess the common denominator, is it?" Mycroft asked.

"You think this is Moriarty?" John asked, looking between Mycroft and I.

"Well, he did promise Sherlock and I that he'd be back. I dreaded this case for ages." I said, sadly.

"I know, Jared, I know. If this was Moriarty, we'd be dead already." John said, as I grabbed his hand.

"If not Moriarty, then who?" Mycroft asked.

"Why don't you talk to Sherlock if you're so concerned about him?" John asked, and Mycroft looks away and toys with the glass on the table beside him with the army doctor rolls his eyes. "Oh God, don't tell me."

"Too much history between us, John. Old scores; resentments."

"Nicked all his Smurfs? Broke his Action Man?"

Mycroft glowers at him. John can't help but laugh with me, then we pull ourselves together and the army doctor puts the files onto the table beside him.

"Finished." John said, in a whisper, before standing up and turns to leave the room with me.

"The three of us know what's coming, John, Jared." Mycroft said, while John stops and turns back, clearly now struggling to control his anger. "Moriarty is obsessed. He's sworn to destroy his only rival."

"So you want us to watch out for your brother because he won't accept your help." John said, tightly.

"If it's not too much trouble."

"Fine. Fine. We will." I said, as Mycroft directs a smile at John and I but it quickly fades and his expression becomes more threatening.

John holds his gaze, then looks away, nods in a resigned way and turns to go to the door again. Opening it, he looks back at Mycroft once more, who still has the same look on his face, then leaves the room with me.

I typed in coordinates into my vortex manipulator and teleported away in a flash of blue light, not loving this adventure at all and knowing it's a long one.

(Open POV)

BART'S...

Jared reappeared in a flash of blue light, and he looked around to see that he is somewhere he knows safe and sound. Molly comes out of a small side room in a lab, switches off the lights and walks across the darkened lab, sighing tiredly. As she reaches the door to the corridor, Sherlock and Jared are standing in the darkness behind her with our faces turned away from her. She doesn't see them and reaches for the door handle.

"You're wrong, you know." Sherlock said, and Molly gasps and jumps, spinning around towards him and Jared. "You do count. You've always counted and I've always trusted you."

"Molly, I trust you as much as Owen Harper, Martha Jones, and Rory Williams." Jared said, while he and Sherlock turned their heads towards Molly. "You were right, Molly. Especially when we chatted over the phone a few months ago. Sherlock and I, we're not okay."

"Tell me what's wrong." Molly said, looking between Sherlock and Jared.

"Molly, we think we're going to die." Sherlock said, slowly walking towards Molly.

"Sherlock first. Sherlock, what do you need?" Molly asked.

"If I wasn't everything that you think I am – everything that I think I am – would you still want to help me?" Sherlock asked, still slowly approaching Molly with Jared.

Molly gazes up at Sherlock as he and Jared stop close to her.

"What do you need?" Molly asked.

Sherlock steps even closer with Jared, his expression intense, "You. We need you."

THE DIOGENES CLUB...

Mycroft walks across one of the common rooms, where an old man is fast asleep in an armchair, and goes into the smaller private room, reaching for the door handle to close it, but he stops when he realises that John is sitting in one of the armchairs with his back to him. John is still looking through Kitty's file.

"She has really done her homework, Miss Riley – things that only someone close to Sherlock could know." John said.

"Ah." Mycroft said, closing the door.

"Have you seen your brother's address book lately? Three names: both of ours and Jared, and Moriarty didn't get this stuff from me."

Mycroft walks across the room to face John, "John ..."

"So how does it work, then, your relationship? D'you go out for a coffee now and then, eh, you and Jim?" John asked, while Mycroft sits down in the chair opposite and opens his mouth but the army doctor interrupts again with his voice is full of controlled anger. "Your own brother and Earth's greatest defender, and you blabbed about both of their lives to this maniac."

"I never inten... I never dreamt ..."

"So this ...th-th-this ..." John said, interrupting Mycroft before he looks through the papers again. "... is what you were trying to tell me, isn't it: 'Watch his back, 'cause I've made a mistake.'" He slaps the papers down on the table beside his chair and sits back, clearing his throat as he tries to stay calm. "How did you meet him?"

Mycroft draws in a long breath, "People like him: we know about them; we watch them. But James Moriarty ... the most dangerous criminal mind the world has ever seen next to the Master, and in his pocket the ultimate weapon: a keycode. A few lines of computer code that could unlock any door."

"And you abducted him to try and find the keycode?" John asked.

"Interrogated him for weeks." Mycroft said.

Mycroft was watching through a one-way mirror while, in the cell on the other side of the mirror – the cell we saw at the end of 'The Hounds of Baskerville' – a man viciously beats a seated Jim across the face.

"And?" John asked.

"He wouldn't play along." Mycroft said, remembering Jim slowly turns his head towards the front after the blow and stares up at his interrogator, who strikes him again. "He just sat there, staring into the darkness." Again Jim turns his head to the front, appearing unfazed by the assault. The interrogator strikes him again. "The only thing that made him open up ..."

Ruefully, Mycroft gestures to himself and he remembers  opening the door to the cell and stops in the doorway. Jim lifts his head and looks at Mycroft's reflection in the mirror in front of him.

"I could get him to talk ..." Mycroft said, coming into the room and turning to shut the door behind him while Jim closes his eyes and smiles blissfully as Sherlock's brother walks closer. "... just a little, but ..."

Mycroft  trails off as John grimly finishes the sentence for him.

"... in return you had to offer him Sherlock's and Jared's life stories. So one big lie – Sherlock's a fraud – and Jared's delusional – but people will swallow it because the rest of it's true." John said, leaning forward in his chair. "Moriarty wanted Sherlock and Jared destroyed, right? And you have given him the perfect ammunition."

John smiles bitterly at Mycroft. Mycroft lowers his eyes. John pulls in a sharp breath and then gets to his feet, turning towards the door.

"John ..." Mycroft said, while John turns back and Sherlock's brother looks up at him and he spoke in a soft tone. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, please ..." John said, tightly shaking his head in disbelief and turns away, laughing humourlessly as he walks to the door.

"Tell him and Jared, would you?" Mycroft asked.

John opens the door and walks away, leaving the door open behind him.

(Jared's POV)

BART'S LAB...

The lights are now on. Sherlock sits alone on the floor with his back against the bench. I am listening to the song called Trapdoor from the RWBY Volume 9 soundtrack while sitting on the bench. Sherlock is bouncing a small rubber ball off the floor and cupboard in front of him and catching it before repeating the action constantly.

John comes in, "Got your message."

Sherlock catches the ball and holds on to it, "The computer code is key to this. If we find it, we can use it – beat Moriarty at his own game."

"What d'you mean, 'use it'?" John asked.

"He used it to create a false identity, so we can use it to break into the records and destroy Richard Brook." Sherlock said.

"And bring back Jim Moriarty again." I said, smiling. "Which is simple enough."

"Somewhere in 221B, somewhere – on the day of the verdict – he left it hidden." Sherlock said, standing up.

Sherlock turns and faces the bench, putting both hands on the work surface. John and I walked to stand beside Sherlock, unconsciously mimicking his stance.

"Uh-huh." John said, while the three of us stare ahead of us, thinking.

John purses his lips, then looks at Sherlock and I.

"What did he touch?" John asked.

"He only touched an apple. Nothing else." I said, as Sherlock briefly drums his fingers on the bench. "If only he went to a winery."

"Did he write anything down?" John asked, looking between Sherlock and I.

"No." Sherlock said, and John hisses in a breath and looks away, racking his brains and again unconsciously mimicking one of his friends by drumming his own fingers on the bench. "Winery. Winery."

"Jared, what do you mean by winery?" John asked, turning and walking across the lab, blowing the breath out again. "Is that a hint?"

"More like a rhyme to a hint." I said, while Sherlock lifts the fingers of his right hand, hesitates for a moment, then begins to drum them again but now he's beating out a specific rhythm and, in his mind, binary code begins to stream out from his fingers. "Sherlock got it."

"I do." Sherlock said, lifting his head as John sighs heavily, unaware of the consulting detective's sharpened expression. "Thank you for that hint, Jared. I needed that."

Straightening up, Sherlock turns his back to John and I, takes his phone out of his pocket and begins to type a text message:

Come and play.

Bart's Hospital rooftop.

SH

He pauses for a moment, then adds:

PS. Got something

of yours you might

want back.

Sending the message, Sherlock tucks his phone away into his jacket and then turns back towards the bench, his eyes full of thought.

Some hours later, dawn is breaking. Sherlock is still in the same place in the lab, sitting on a stool with his feet up on the bench. He is rapidly rolling the rubber ball from side to side across the bench, his fingers flickering rapidly over the top of the ball. John has sat on a stool at a nearby bench and he has his head down on his folded arms, asleep. I am still listening to the RWBY Volume 9 soundtrack with headphones in.

"John. Phone." I said, as John's phone rings.

"Right..." John said, lifting his head tiredly, he groans and answers the phone. "Yeah, speaking." He listens for a moment before becoming a bit shocked. "Er, what?" The army doctor gets to his feet. "What happened? Is she okay?" He listens. "Oh my God. Right, yes, I'm coming."

"Crap. I forgot about that." I said, and John switches the phone off. "Sorry, Sherlock."

"What is it?" Sherlock asked, looking at me.

"Well, it's the paramedics. Mrs Hudson has been shot."

"What? How?"

"Well, probably one of the killers you managed to attract ... Jesus. Jesus. She's dying, Sherlock, Jared. Let's go." John said, frantically.

John turns towards the door.

"You go. I'm busy." Sherlock said, disinterestedly.

John turns back towards Sherlock, his face appalled, "Busy?"

"Thinking. I need to think." Sherlock said.

"You need to ...? Doesn't she mean anything to you? You once half killed a man because he laid a finger on her." John said.

"She's my landlady." Sherlock said, shrugging.

"She's dying ..." John said, furiously flailing a hand in front of himself in utter disbelief at Sherlock's attitude. "You machine." He looks down, shaking his head. "Sod this. Sod this." The army doctor heads towards the door. "You stay here if you want, on your own."

"Alone is what I have. Alone protects me." Sherlock said.

"No. Friends protect people. Jared, you stay here with Sherlock." John said, opening the door and looking back at Sherlock angrily. "Make sure he doesn't do anything ridiculously stupid."

"On it." I said, and John stormed out of the room. "Ready?"

Sherlock lifts his gaze towards the door. A moment later his phone trills a text alert. He reaches into his pocket and looks at the message:

I'm waiting... Bring Jared...

JM

"Ready." Sherlock said, taking his feet off the bench and standing up, he walks across the lab, buttoning his jacket. He picks up his coat, opens the door and leaves the room with me by his side.

Hospital roof...

Daylight has come. Jim Moriarty – now back in a typical smart suit and overcoat and with his hair slicked back – calmly sits on the raised ledge at the edge of the roof with his phone in his hand while The Bee Gees' "Stayin' Alive" plays from it. He doesn't look at Sherlock and I as we come onto the roof and walk towards him.

"Ah. Here we are at last – the three of us, Sherlock, Jared, and our problem – the final problem." Moriarty said, holding the phone up higher. "Stayin' alive! It's so boring, isn't it?" Angrily he switches off the phone. "It's just ..." He holds his hand out flat with the palm down and skims it slowly through the air level to the roof "... staying."  The consulting criminal pulls his hand back and briefly sinks his head into it while Sherlock paces around the roof in front of him and I am standing behind Sherlock and Moriarty. "All my life I've been searching for distractions. You two were the best distractions  and now I don't even have either of you. Because I've beaten you both." Sherlock's head turns sharply towards him as he continues to pace while I took out some jelly babies to snack on them. "And you know what? In the end it was easy."

Sherlock stops and folds his hands behind his back, shielding me from Moriarty.

"It was easy. Now I've got to go back to playing with the ordinary people. And it turns out you both are ordinary just like all of them." Moriarty said, quietly, disappointed before lowering his head again and rubs his face before looking up at Sherlock and I. "Ah well."  He stands up and walks closer, then starts to pace slowly around the detective and I. "Did you almost start to wonder if I was real? Did I nearly get you?"

"Richard Brook." I said, placing a jelly baby in my mouth.

"Nobody seems to get the joke, but you two do." Moriarty said.

"Of course I do. And so does Sherlock."

"Attaboy. The fanboy gets it. What about the detective?" Moriarty asked, looking between Sherlock and I.

"Rich Brook in German is Reichen Bach – the case that made my name." Sherlock said.

"Just tryin' to have some fun." Moriarty said, in a fake American accent while continuing to pace around him, he looks down to Sherlock's hands and sees that he is tapping out a rhythm with his fingers. "Good. You got that too."

"Beats like digits." Sherlock said, as I am remembering Jim sitting at 221B drumming his fingers on his knee. "Every beat is a one; every rest is a zero. Binary code. And Jared rhymed binary with winery. Clever little hint from Jared. That's why all those assassins tried to save my life. And Jared knew hence why he teleported through all of the other things you did until the very end because he was scared. It was hidden on me; hidden inside my head – a few simple lines of computer code that can break into any system."

"I told all my clients: last one to Sherlock is a sissy." Moriarty said.

"Yes, but now that it's up here, I can use it to alter all the records. I can kill Rich Brook and bring back Jim Moriarty." Sherlock said, gesturing to his own head.

"And if all else fails, I can contact Uiharu, the Railgun, or the supercomputer called Mr Smith. Hell, I can use the Torchwood software to bring back Jim Moriarty." I said, taking out my iPhone 12 Mini. "Sherlock isn't alone for this like back home."

Moriarty gazes at Sherlock and I for a moment, then turns away with a disappointed look on his face.

"No, no, no, no, no, this is too easy." Moriarty said, burying his head in his hands. "This is too easy." Lowering his hands, he turns back to Sherlock and I. "There is no key, DOOFUSES!" He screams the last word into Sherlock's face and my face. "Those digits are meaningless. They're utterly meaningless." Sherlock can't hide the confusion on his face. "You don't really think a couple of lines of computer code are gonna crash the world around our ears? I'm disappointed." Moriarty turns away and lumbers across the roof, making his voice sound moronic as he continues speaking. "I'm disappointed in you, ordinary Sherlock."

"But the rhythm ..." Sherlock said.

"Sherlock. The rhythm was Partita number one." I said, sadly.

"You should really listen to Jared more. He's right. Thank you, Johann Sebastian Bach." Moriarty said.

"But then how did ..." Sherlock said.

"Then how did I break into the Bank, to the Tower, to the Prison?" Jim asked, speaking over Sherlock before turning and spreading his arms wide. "Daylight robbery. All it takes is some willing participants."

I closed my eyes to imagine Jim at the White Tower selecting the Crown icon on his phone. A message is automatically sent to the man in the surveillance room who hasn't gone to make tea. He lifts his own phone to see the message: 'it's showtime !' then types on his keyboard and the alarms begin to sound as the security screens go blank. He gets up from the desk and hurries off, presumably to close the security door that will shut Jim into the Crown Jewels display room.

"Sherlock, I knew you'd fall for it. But I knew Jared wouldn't fall for it due to his foreknowledge. That's your weakness – you always want everything to be clever. Now, shall we finish the game? One final act. Glad you and your fanboy chose a tall building – nice way to do it." Jim said, as Sherlock has been staring blankly into the distance.

"I didn't want things to change too much." I said, and Sherlock sounds bewildered. "So I went with the flow."

"Do it? Do – do what?" Sherlock asked, while he blinks as it becomes clearer to him and he turns towards Jim. "Yes, of course. Our suicide."

"'Genius detective proved to be a fraud and massive fanboy proved to be delusional.' I read it in the paper, so it must be true. I love newspapers. Fairytales." Jim said, as Sherlock walks to the edge of the roof and leans forward with me with the two of us looking over the side to the ground below.

"Shit." I said, and Jim walked to stand beside Sherlock and I and looked over the side as well. "That's high! That's...really high! Whoa!"

"And pretty Grimm ones too. RWBY reference, Jared." Jim said, turning his head and looking ominously at Sherlock and I.

(Open POV)

221B Baker Street...

A taxi pulls up outside and John jumps out and hurries towards the door, scrabbling for his keys. Hurrying inside, he sees the tattooed bald workman standing at the top of his stepladder just in front of the stairs, drilling a hole into the wall. Mrs Hudson is standing nearby watching him. As John runs towards her, she jolts in startlement, having not heard his approach over the sound of the drill.

"Oh, God, John! You made me jump!" Mrs Hudson said, worried.

"But ..." John said, staring at Mrs Hudson in confusion.

"Is everything okay now with the police? Has, um, Sherlock and Jared sorted it all out?" Mrs Hudson asked, while John stares for a moment longer and then it suddenly sinks in.

"Oh my God." John said, softly his voice full of horror before turning around and runs outside, looking up and down the street frantically.

Baker Street...

Luckily, John immediately sees what he needs.

"Taxi!" John said, as a cab begins to pull over on the other side of the road with the army doctor chasing across the road towards it. "Taxi!"

A man is standing at the side of the road having also just hailed the cab. As he leans into the front window to tell the driver his destination, John runs around the cab and pulls open the rear door, talking even as he scrambles inside.

"No, no, no, no, police! ... Sort of." John said.

"Oh, thanks, mate – thanks a lot!" The man said, walking away angrily.

(Jared's POV)

BART'S ROOFTOP...

The two men have turned towards each other at the edge of the roof while I am standing away from the edge of the roof.

"We can still prove that you created an entirely false identity." Sherlock said.

"Yup. It's easy during the time of the internet." I said, smiling.

"Oh, just kill yourselves. It's a lot less effort." Moriarty said, wearily exasperated when Sherlock turns away, pacing distractedly. "Go on. For me." He makes his voice into a high-pitched squeal for the next word. "Pleeeeeease?"

"No." I said, and Sherlock grabs him by the collar of his coat with both hands in a sudden movement and spins him around so that Jim's back is to the drop. "Jesus! Sherlock!"

"Sorry." Sherlock said, while Moriarty stares into his face and then shoves him back one step nearer the edge while the consulting criminal looks at him with interest as the consulting detective's breathing becomes shorter. "Jim Moriarty, you're insane."

Moriarty blinks, "You're just getting that now?"

Sherlock shoves Moriarty further back, now holding him over the edge. Jim whoops almost triumphantly and gazes back at Sherlock and I with no fear in his eyes, holding his hands out wide and committing himself to the consulting detective's grasp.

"Okay, let me give you two a little extra incentive." Moriarty said, while Sherlock frowns and the consulting detective's voice becomes more savage. "Your friends will die if you both don't."

"Damn..." I said, as fear begins to creep into my eyes and Sherlock's eyes. "Oh no..."

"John." Sherlock said.

"Not just John." Moriarty said, in a whisper. "Everyone."

"Mrs Hudson."

"Everyone." Jim said, in a whisper, with a delighted smile.

"Lestrade."

"Three bullets; three gunmen; three victims, here in London, Sherlock. For you Jared, you would be even more heartbroken. Three bullets; three gunmen; three victims, in Academy City. Three bullets; three gunmen; three victims, two in Mitakihara City and one in Kazamino City. There's no stopping them now." Moriarty said.

"Son of a..." I said, furiously pulling Moriarty back upwards to safety with the consulting criminal staring into my face. "This is why I'm really terrified of you."

"Unless my people see you and Sherlock jump." Moriarty said, and Sherlock gazes past him, breathing heavily and appearing lost in horror with the consulting criminal shakes himself free of my grasp and smiles triumphantly. "You two can have me arrested; you both can torture me; the two of you can do anything you like with me; but nothing's gonna prevent them from pulling the trigger. Sherlock, your only three friends in the world besides Jared will die ... and Jared, your only six friends in the world will die ...unless ..."

"... unless we kill ourselves – complete your story." Sherlock said, grabbing my hand.

Jim nods and smiles ecstatically, "You've gotta admit that's sexier."

"And we die in disgrace." Sherlock said, his gaze distant and lost.

"Of course. That's the point of this." Moriarty said, in a matter-of-fact tone before looking over the side and sees that someone has stopped at the benches near the bus stop below us, and several other people are in the vicinity. "Oh, you and Jared have got an audience now. Off you pop." He rolls his head from side to side on his neck. "Go on." Sherlock and I slowly step past him and up onto the ledge. "I told you and Jared how this ends."

"We know..." I said, while Sherlock's breathing and my breathing becomes more shaky as we looked down. "Oh..."

"Your deaths are the only thing that's gonna call off the killers. I'm certainly not gonna do it." Jim said, not even looking at Sherlock and I before  turning his head and looks up at us expectantly.

Sherlock blinks anxiously, "Would you give us ... one moment, please; one moment of privacy?"

"Please." I said, glancing down at Moriarty. "Please? That's all we want."

Moriarty looks disappointed that Sherlock and I should be so 'ordinary', "Of course."

Jim moves away across the roof. Sherlock takes several shallow anxious breaths, then he stops breathing for a moment as his brain kicks into gear again. I then grabbed Sherlock's hand and squeeze it because I am as scared as he is. He lifts his gaze and his expression becomes more like the Sherlock we know while his eyes become thoughtful. Slowly smiles spreads across our face and Sherlock and I started to chuckle. Behind us, Jim is slowly walking away across the roof but he stops, his expression livid, when Sherlock and I laughs with delight. Jim spins around furiously.

"What?" Moriarty asked.

"This is wonderful." I said, as Sherlock and I continued to laugh.

"What is it?" Moriarty asked, angrily.

Sherlock half turns on the ledge, smiling towards Moriarty as he glares back.

"What did I miss?" Jim asked, angrily.

Sherlock and I hopped down off the ledge and we walked closer to him.

"'You're not going to do it.' So the killers can be called off, then – there's a recall code or a word or a number." Sherlock said, and now he's the one circling our prey. "Jared and I don't have to die ..." Hhis voice becomes sing-song. "... if we've got you."

"Oh!" Moriarty said, laughing in relieved delight. "You and Jared think you can make me stop the order? You think you can make me do that?"

"Yeah. So do you." I said, while Sherlock is still circling Moriarty. "You and Sherlock and enemies. While I'm terrified of you and admire Sherlock."

"Sherlock, your big brother and all the King's horses couldn't make me do a thing I didn't want to." Moriarty said.

"Yes, but I'm not my brother, remember? I am you – prepared to do anything; prepared to burn; prepared to do what ordinary people won't do. You want me to shake hands with you in hell? I shall not disappoint you." Sherlock said, stopping and getting into Moriarty's face.

Jim shakes his head slowly, "Naah. You talk big. Naah. You're ordinary. You and Jared are ordinary – you two are on the side of the angels."

"Oh, we may be on the side of the angels, but don't think for one second that we are two of them." Sherlock siad, his voice becoming more ominous.

"And the one closest to the side of the angels are the Law of Cycle's personal secretaries." I said, while enemies lock eyes for a long moment while Jim tries to deduce how far Sherlock will go.

"No, you're not." Jim said, blinking, then closes his eyes briefly.

Sherlock does likewise in an unintentional mirror movement. Jim smiles and opens his eyes again.

"I see. You're not ordinary, Sherlock. No. You're me." Moriarty said, softly, insanely before hissing out a delighted laugh and his voice becoming more high-pitched. "You're me! Thank you! You're more me than Jared is!" He lifts his right hand as if to embrace Sherlock, but then lowers it and offers it to him to shake instead. "Sherlock Holmes." 

They both look down at the offered hand, then Sherlock slowly raises his own right hand and takes it.

"Thank you. Bless you." Moriarty said, nodding almost frenetically, though his voice stays soft while blinking and lowering his gaze as if blinking back tears. "As long as I'm alive, the two of you can save your friends; you both have got a way out." He continues to blink with his gaze lowered. "Well, good luck with that. Sherlock Holmes and Jared Shay."

In rapid succession he raises his eyes to Sherlock's and mine, grins manically, opens his mouth wide and pulls Sherlock and I closer while he reaches into his waistband with his other hand and pulls out a pistol and raises it towards his own mouth.

"Shit, shit, shit..." I said, as Sherlock and I instinctively pulled back, crying out in alarm, Jim sticks the muzzle into his own mouth and pulls the trigger, dropping to the roof instantly. "Moriarty's dead..."

"I know." Sherlock said, staring in horror as blood begins to trickle across the roof underneath Jim's head.

"What do we do?" I asked, and Jim's eyes are fixed and open and there is a smile of victory on his face. "He's dead!"

"I know." Sherlock said, while he and I spin away from Moriarty, with the consulting detective' breathing and my breathing noisy and frantic as he grabbed my hand in horror. "I know."

Not far away and obviously unseen by Sherlock and I, a man trots up a staircase and then sits down on the stairs and begins to assemble a high-powered rifle.

(Open POV)

Meanwhile John sits anxiously in the taxi on his way back to Bart's. In Academy City, Mikoto is walking around the city picking up some Gekota merch while a rifle is aimed at her. In Mitakihara City, Madoka and Sayaka are in class together, unaware that there is two killers nearby preparing their pistols.

At 221, Mrs Hudson gives a mug of tea to the workman who is squatting in the hallway. He takes it and smiles gratefully, and once she has moved away he picks up one of his tools and puts it into his toolbox. Lying on top of all the other tools is a pistol with a small silencer attached to it. He raises his eyes ominously in the direction of Mrs H as she goes back into 221A. Uiharu and Shirai are working in their respective Judgment Office unaware that  there are two killers with their rifles aimed at them. The two are at the computers as they are helping the two killers wearing visitor clothing with their problems that are in need of Judgement.

Kyoko is in Kazamino City, hanging out at her family's church with food in her hand and is offering some food to the killer. She doesn't know what is going on either. While the assassin on the staircase continues to assemble his rifle, at Scotland Yard a plain clothed police officer in the general office looks round to Greg's office with his eyes narrowed as the D.I. speaks on the phone.

"Yes, sir, thank you. 'Bye." Lestrade said, talking into the phone.

On the stairwell, the assassin finishes his assembly, opens the nearby window and aims his gun out of it as John's taxi gets closer to Bart's.

(Jared's POV)

BART'S ROOFTOP...

On the rooftop, Sherlock and I breathe shallowly and rapidly, with the consulting detective letting me squeeze his hand in horror as we turn to look again at Jim's fixed grin.

"Jared, I really don't have a plan." Sherlock said, thinking frantically for a while, then slowly turns towards the edge of the building with me. "Do you have any hints?"

"No." I siad, as Sherlock's breathing and my breathing begin to slow as we steps up onto the ledge, with the consulting detective blowing out another breath and we looked down towards the ground. "John's here."

"Yes." Sherlock said, and John's taxi pulls up in the street below. "I'm going to call John and put him on speaker phone."

Sherlock takes out his phone and selects a speed dial. The answering phone begins to ring below him as John gets out of the taxi and raises his phone to his ear as he trots towards the hospital.

"Hello?" John asked.

"John." Sherlock said.

"Hey John." I said, sadly.

"Hey, Sherlock, Jared, you okay?" John asked.

"John, turn around and come back the way you came."

"No, I'm coming in."

"Just do as Jared asks. Please." Sherlock said, frantically.

"Where?" John asked, turning back and looking around bewildered.

"You're getting close." I said, while Sherlock pauses for a moment as John walks back along the road, then speaks urgently. "Stop there. Don't move an inch."

"Sherlock? Jared?" John asked, stopping.

"Okay, look up. Jared and I on the rooftop." Sherlock said.

John turns and looks up, his face filling with horror, "Oh God."

"We ... we ... we can't come down, so we'll ... we'll just have to do it like this."

"What's going on?" John asked, anxiously.

"An apology. It's all true."

"Wh-what?"

"Everything they said about us. I invented Moriarty." Sherlock said, looking around briefly at his enemy's grinning body lying behind him.

"And I am delusional. I didn't come from a parallel world. I'm from this one." I said, sadly. "I don't have any foreknowledge of the future. There is no such thing as time travel. Or aliens. Or parallel worlds. It's all fake."

On the ground, John stares up at his friend in disbelief.

"Why are the two of you saying this?" John asked.

Sherlock turns back to look down at John with his voice breaking "Jared isn't the only one that's a fake. I'm a fake."

"Sherlock ..." John said.

"The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade; I want you to tell Mrs Hudson, and Molly ... in fact, tell anyone who will listen to you that I created Moriarty for my own purposes." Sherlock said, his voice becoming tearful.

"Okay, shut up, Sherlock, shut up. The first time we met ... the first time we met, you knew all about my sister, right?"

"Nobody could be that clever. I can't even be that clever, John." I said, grabbing Sherlock's hand.

"Sherlock could." John said.

Sherlock and I laughed and we gazed down at our friend, tears dripping from our chins.

"I wish he could." I said, laughing a lot.

"John, I researched you. Before we met I discovered everything that I could to impress you." Sherlock said, sniffing quietly. "It's a trick. Just a magic trick."

John has his eyes closed and is shaking his head repeatedly.

"No. All right, stop it now." John said, as he starts to walk towards the hospital entrance.

"No. Stay where you are. Don't move." I said, urgently.

John stops and backs up, holding up his hand towards Sherlock and I in capitulation, "All right."

Breathing rapidly, Sherlock squeezed my hand and had his other hand stretched out towards his friend, phone in it.

"Keep your eyes fixed on us." Sherlock said, his voice becomes frantic. "Please, will you do this for us?"

"Do what?" John asked.

"This phone call – it's, er ... it's our note. It's what people do, don't they – leave a note?" Sherlock asked, and John shakes his head, momentarily taking his phone from his ear as the stress of what he's beginning to understand hits him, then he raises it again, his voice shaky.

"Like how Max Mayfield wrote notes to her friends from Hawkins, Indiana." I said, frowning. "Or how the Doctor and I left notes for our friends."

"Leave a note when?" John asked.

"Goodbye, John." Sherlock said.

"It was nice knowing you, John." I said, while John was shaking his head.

"No. Don't." John said, as Sherlock and I gazed down at him for several seconds, then the two of us lowered our arms and the consulting detective drops the phone onto the roof, gazing ahead of ourselves.

John lowers his own phone and screams upwards.

"No. SHERLOCK! JARED!" John said, and Sherlock and I spread our arms to either side and fell forward, plummeting towards the ground with the army doctor staring in utter horror. "Sher..."

(Open POV)

A couple of seconds later the bodies impacts the ground. John's hearing whites out as his entire body focuses on getting to Sherlock and Jared as soon as he can. Sherlock and Jared had disappeared from view towards the end of their falls because a building was in the way of John's view of them, and John now runs to the corner of the building, then slows down and stops in the middle of the road when he gets his first glimpse of the still figures lying on the wet pavement, the lower part of their bodies obscured by a lorry parked at the roadside. Behind John, a young man on a fast pedal cycle slams into him and sends him crashing to the ground, his head hitting the asphalt hard. Groaning, he struggles to stay conscious while, nearby, people begin to run towards the bodies on the pavement. The lorry pulls away and a couple of medics from the hospital hurry out and start trying to prevent the onlookers from getting too close. Grimacing with pain, John rolls onto his side and looks across to the pavement where Sherlock and Jared are lying on their sides with a lot of blood under their heads. Slowly John hauls himself to his feet and stumbles towards them as more onlookers gather, talking excitedly about what they saw. John forces himself onwards.

"Sherlock, Jared, Sherlock, Jared ..." John said, in a whisper while reaching the crowd. "I'm a doctor, let me come through. Let me come through, please." Some of the crowd try to hold him back but he pushes through them. "No, they're my friends. They're my friends. Please."

He reaches down to take hold of Sherlock and Jared's wrists, searching for two separate pulses. A woman peels his fingers off and she and another person pull him away. As he reaches towards his friends again, more medics arrive with wheeled stretchers.

"Please, let me just ..." John said, frantically while the impact of the shock and the bang on his head begin to take effect and his knees give out.

As John slumps to the floor supported by a couple of onlookers, four people gently roll Sherlock and Jared onto their backs, revealing their blood stained faces and wide staring eyes. John groans in utter despair.

"Nggh, Jesus, no." John said, trying to stand but sinks back again. "God, no."

As the onlookers support him, eight people lift Sherlock's body and Jared's body onto the stretchers and then rapidly wheel them away into the hospital.

John stares after them, his face blank and uncomprehending. He finally manages to get to his feet and shakes off his helpers, staring blindly in the direction that his friends' bodies were taken.

In a nearby building, a rifle sight is aimed directly at John's head. As John continues to stand in profile to the sniper, a perfect target, the assassin lifts his gun back inside the window and begins to disassemble the weapon. Packing it into his bag, he stands up and walks away.

(Jared's POV)

NEW YORK CITY, TIMES SQUARE...

Steve skids into an alley and stops, panting, freaked. Steve looks down the alley...only to find it's a dead end.

"At ease, soldier." Nick said.

Steve whips to see...Nick Fury and I standing together at the alley entrance.

"Who are the two of you?" Steve asked, looking between Nick and I.

"Colonel Fury, Director of SHIELD. You would have known us as the Special Scientific Reserve." Nick said, while Steve's eyes narrowed.

"I wasn't around for that. But do you know Amelia Jessica Williams and Rory Arthur Williams?" I asked, while it is the first reassuring thing Steve Rogers has heard.

"I did. They were a nice couple." Steve said, looking at me. "Where am I?"

"You're around 34th Street and 5th Avenue." I said, as Steve looked confused. "Look over there. I got to see it being built." I nodded over my shoulder at...the Empire State Building rising above us. "There were Daleks in Manhattan at some point. Not as bad as Angels taking Manhattan."

"Daleks? Angels?" Steve asked, gaping. "The Empire State Building looks huge."

Fury waves a couple of MP's to block off the alley. They stand at attention.

"Sorry about that little show back there. See, there's no precedent for what you've been through. We couldn't tell how delicate your mental state might be. We thought it best to break it to you slowly." Nick said.

"Break what?" Steve asked.

"Captain America. You've been asleep for almost seventy years." I said, sadly.

Steve looks around, stunned.

"Seventy..." Steve said, sledge-hammered. "...The World of the Future."

"Well, thanks to you, there is one. One that has girls that fight monsters through the power of song, the Kamijou Faction, companions of a Time Lord known as the Doctor protecting the earth, mages that go to other worlds, and Magical Girls that fights witches. To name a few things that have spawned since you were asleep, Captain. They are all part of this future." Nick said.

Steve eyes Fury.

"What about the war? Did we win?" Steve asked.

"Hell, yes. World War II. Unconditional surrender, baby. And taking down HYDRA was a big part of that. Now World War III, that one ended recently in eleven days thanks to someone with a power called Imagine Breaker and help from the Kamijou Faction." Nick said, happily.

"World War III was more interesting due to it being a battle of science and magic. God knows if World War IV happens." I said, letting out a sigh.

Steve reels, "How am I...not dead?"

"To be perfectly honest, we're not sure yet. My docs day it's some kind of suspended animation. Dr. Erskine's formula, the extreme cold...I can't break it down for you on a cellular level, but you haven't aged a day since that plane went down." Nick said, and Steve looks around, overwhelmed and above him, a highway sign reads 'FDR DRIVE, NEXT LEFT'. "You don't mind my asking, what gave us away back there?"

"What? Oh. Bob Chipman was traded for Eddie Stanky during the '44 season. He's with the Cubs now." Steve said, troubled. "Or...was."

"I know it's a lot to swallow. But the world's not as different as it looks. There's still work to be done..." Nick said, pointed. "Soldier's work. Something which the Squad of Nexus Guardians, or S.O.N.G., can't do."

Steve meets Fury's eyes and my eyes.

"Yeah. Symphogear has it rough these days." I said, signaling to one of the MP's with me bringing forward a case. "And they deserve a break."

I opened it, revealing Steve's battered shield.

"Jared's right. They've been fighting for ages. The world could still use a man like you, Cap. And the world used people like the girls who wielded Symphogear for good." Nick said, while Steve touches the shield, remembering. "Take your time. God knows if anybody's earned it, you have. Like all of those girls that use the Relics that make up all seven Symphogears use. All the same..." He offers his hand as Steve takes it. "There's a place for you on the team. My team."

Steve rubs his head, so many things coming back.

"Steve, are you sure you're okay?" I asked, looking at Steve.

"Yeah. It's just..." Steve said, stunned before lowering his voice. "I have a date."