How They Met Alice (BBC Sherlock Fanfiction)

Chapter 83

(Third-person POV: )

On the roof of the hospital, daylight had come. Jim Moriarty – now back in a typical smart suit and overcoat and with his hair slicked back – calmly sat on the raised ledge at the edge of the building with his phone in his hand as The Bee Gees’ ‘Stayin’ Alive’ played from it. He didn’t look at Sherlock as he came onto the roof and walked towards him.

“Ah. Here we are at last – you and me, Sherlock, and our problem – the final problem,” He began, holding the phone up higher.

“Stayin’ alive! It’s so boring, isn’t it?” Angrily he switched the phone off. “It’s just...” He held his hand out flat with the palm down and skimmed it slowly through the air level to the roof. “...staying.” He pulled his hand back and briefly sunk his head into it as Sherlock paced around the roof.

“All my life I’ve been searching for distractions. You were the best distraction and now I don’t even have you. Because I’ve beaten you,” He complained. Sherlock’s head turned sharply towards him as he continued to pace.

“And you know what? In the end it was easy.” Sherlock stopped and folded his hands behind his back. “It was easy. Now I’ve got to go back to playing with the ordinary people. And it turns out you’re ordinary just like all of them,” He said quietly, sounding very disappointed. He lowered his head again and rubbed his face before looking up at Sherlock.

“Ah well,” he sighed, standing up and walked closer, then started to pace slowly around the detective. “Did you almost start to wonder if I was real? Like dear Alice did? Did I nearly get you?”

“Richard Brook,” Sherlock said flatly.

“Nobody seems to get the joke, but you do,” Jim replied.

“Of course,” Sherlock scoffed.

“Attaboy,” Moriarty encouraged.

“Rich Brook in German is Reichen Bach – the case that made my name,” Sherlock explained.

“Just tryin’ to have some fun,” Jim replied with a fake (and not very good) American accent. As Sherlock continued to pace around him, he looked down to Sherlock’s hands and saw that he was beating out a rhythm with his fingers. “Good. You got that too,” He congratulated dryly.

“Beats like digits.Every beat is a one; every rest is a zero. Binary code. That’s why all those assassins tried to save my life. It was hidden on me; hidden inside my head – a few simple lines of computer code that can break into any system,” Sherlock explained once again, just to prove that he knew it as Moriarty would demand. Sherlock knew Alice had it too, but didn’t think it was relevant.

“I told all my clients: last one to Sherlock is a sissy,” Jim said in his usual maniacal way.

“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 proudly, gesturing to his own head. Jim gazed at him for a moment, then turned away with a disappointed look on his face.

“No, no, no, no, no, this is too easy.” He buried his head in his hands. “This is too easy.” Lowering his hands, he turned back to Sherlock. “There is no key, DOOFUS!” He screamed the last word into Sherlock’s face. “Those digits are meaningless. They’re utterly meaningless,” Jim said almost angrily. Sherlock couldn’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.” He turned away and lumbered across the roof, making his voice sound moronic as he continued speaking. “I’m disappointed in you, ordinary Sherlock.”