Death of a Consulting Detective

The End of All Things

"The woman Lestrade interviewed -.."

"Kept him away from you most of the day. Originally the deal was for her to take up all of the detective inspector's time so you could meet me here. Can you imagine the fear on her face when the DI left and she had a bullet propelled through her brain? I bet you Jim would've loved it."

The police now have a confession to a murder they haven't even found out about yet. Sebastian also seems to be oblivious to the fact I'm recording our conversation. Good. I just need to keep him talking.

"You keep referring to him as Jim. Sounds too casual for your boss."

"He was my boss. But then I figured out why people call him Mr. Sex during a case we were working on."

Wherever Moran is hiding he must have a clear view of the look on my face. He laughed at my confusion.

"Don't be alarmed Dr. Watson. I'm talking about my sex life with the consulting criminal. It was great by the way. Did Sherlock ever do anything like that?"

I frowned to no one in particular, too pissed off to feel embarrassed about the police listening to a rather awkward topic.

"I'm not actually gay!" I shouted.

Moran's chuckle was followed by a very faint click. A red dot from a laser pointer appeared over my heart a moment later. Some lights turned on, revealing a man holding a black sniper rifle on the second floor's balcony. Due to the weapon's weight the man had to sit it on top of the barrier that prevented people from falling over the ledge while they watched a swimming competition. The man himself was crouched down, although I was able to make out any defining features from his shoulders up to his head. He looked strong, for a sniper, and his dog tags and neatly trimmed hair suggest a history with the military. His face was behind the scope of the rifle and he focused on me.

It doesn't take a Holmes brother to realize that I was his next target.

"Well I am Johnny boy and I can spot your secret, undying love for the hat detective from miles away. Besides I just said that to bother you and the cops you called a few minutes ago."

My phone fell out of my hand - shattering to pieces upon impact. My eyes trained on him.

"Don't be so surprised John. I wasn't just fucking one of the smartest psychopaths in the world. He taught me how to use my head in situations like this. Sherlock killed himself before he could ever teach you a goddamn thing, right?"

I was speechless. Why didn't I stay in my bloody chair, reading Sherlock's bloody journal, in the safety of my bloody flat? When I thought of dying heroically as I entered the building it never occurred to me that I could actually die tonight. I had been joking. Figured that the police would come, Lestrade would curse up a storm, and I would sit by a warm fireplace with a smile on my face instead of a frown.

"I hope you know how long it takes for the nearest cop to come here. I had some guys lead them all fifteen minutes away from this building. It was all a big trap. I mean seriously: a lonely doctor becomes a detective to overcome his grief. A case pops up and it suddenly becomes personal when one of the victims happens to look like your dead friend. Then the poor doctor is so desperate to get revenge for the death of his secret lover, that he ignores a logical DI to jump blindly into what is obviously a suicide mission. Come on, I thought you were smarter than to let love control your mind. You always were more compassionate than Sherlock. More human."

He's right. I was so stupid. I believed that I could be like Sherlock, but I never saw how my humanity got in the way of my mind. The truth is I would never have been able to be Sherlock. If I didn't die during this case I surely would've died in the next or the one after that. Lestrade was only delaying my inevitable fate when he prevented me from pulling the trigger last night.
I'm a stupid fool who deserves to die.
I looked around one last time. I don't think I ever really appreciated how amazing the world truly was until it was going to be taken away. The way the pool water moved ever so gently. The way the lights made the pattern of the water appear on the surrounding walls. Then I thought about people. Greg Lestrade: one of the bravest, kindest men I ever had the pleasure of knowing. Mrs. Hudson: a wise woman who would never lose faith in me. Molly Hooper: a gentle soul whose smile could brighten my day.

Then there's Sherlock Holmes. He was a man ahead of his time that devoted his life to fighting on the side of the angels. He always told me he wasn't one of them...

The sound of a bullet soaring across the room was barely audible and the impact hurt like hell. I dropped to the floor. Sebastian Moran quickly approached me. He knelt down by my limp body - staring down at my face.

"Your humanity was a beautiful thing John. I envied it, really I did."

His cold, blue eyes moved down to look at the hole in my chest.

"There's just one major flaw with being human."

He stood back up and grabbed the sniper up from the floor.

"In the end, you are destined to die."
Moran walked away.

Sirens could be heard outside the building. But it was already too late. This hole in my heart could not be fixed. There aren't enough therapists, murder cases, or cigarettes in the world to help me. And I couldn't be any happier.

The colors around me faded. The only one I saw clearly was the red puddle underneath me. It's funny how red would be the last color I see - how the color that haunted me not so long ago came back to visit one more time. I hear running now. A door is kicked open. I think I can hear Lestrade calling my name. I was too busy dying to care. I would be at peace. No more nightmares. No more pain. I would finally get to be reunited with him.
I smiled and muttered one last thing before I slipped away. Before I let the world unravel around me.

"Sherlock..."