Chapter 45: His Last Vow

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“Here we go, Mr. Holmes.” Magnussen yelled over the whir of the blades.

“To clarify, Appledore’s vaults only exist in your mind?” Sherlock shouted back, coming to stand beside Y/N and John. “Nowhere else. Just there.”

“They’re not real. They never have been.” Magnussen confirmed. 

“Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, and Y/N Hudson.” Mycroft repeated. “Step away.”

Magnussen walked a few steps toward the helicopter.

“It’s fine!” He shouted. “They’re harmless.”

“What do we do?” Y/N asked, her hair blown by the helicopter.

“Nothing.” Magnussen said. “There’s nothing to be done. Oh, I’m not a villain. I have no evil plan. I’m a businessman, acquiring assets. You happen to be one of them.”

Sherlock looked at his best friend. He looked at the woman he loved. He knew what he had to do.

“Sorry. No chance for you to be a hero this time, Mr. Holmes.” Magnussen said.

“Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, and Y/N Hudson. Stand away from that man. Do it now.” Mycroft said again.

“Oh do your research.” Sherlock shouted, reaching into the pocket of John’s coat. “I’m not a hero. I’m a high-functioning sociopath. Merry Christmas!”

Sherlock held up John’s gun and fired, hitting Magnussen cleanly in the head. The businessman fell to the ground, dead. Sherlock dropped the gun and held up his hands.

“Stay back, stay well back!” He yelled at Y/N and John.

“Sherlock!” Y/N screamed. John yanked her back when she tried to go to him.

“Do not fire! Do not fire on Sherlock Holmes!” Mycroft yelled at the the men, their sniper rifles trained on Sherlock.

John and Y/N sank to their knees, hands raised in surrender. Y/N began to cry.

“Give my love to Mary. Tell her she’s safe now.” Sherlock said.

He looked at Y/N. “You’re safe now.”

In the cockpit of the helicopter, Mycroft took his headset off. He watched Sherlock face the wind and the light and the future, seeing his baby brother in distress.

“Oh Sherlock,” He whispered. “What have you done?”

~

“As my colleague is fond of remarking, this country sometimes needs a blunt instrument.” Mycroft addressed a council of Lords and Ladies, high on the rank of British Intelligence. “Equally, it sometimes needs a dagger. A scalpel, wielded with precision and without remorse. There will always come a time when we need Sherlock Holmes.”

“If this is some expression of familial sentiment…”

“Don’t be absurd.” Mycroft said. “I am not given to outbursts of brotherly compassion. You know what happened to the other one. In any event, there is no prison in which we could incarcerate Sherlock without causing a riot on a daily basis. The alternative, however, would require your approval…”

“Hardly merciful, Mr. Holmes.” Lady Smallwood said.

“Regrettably, Lady Smallwood, my brother is a murderer.” Mycroft said.

~

Mycroft and Sherlock stood beside a private plane. An unmarked black car pulled up a few yards away. Mary got to Sherlock first, with John following. Mrs. Watson pulled Sherlock into a hug.

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