SOCIOPATH'S ROMANCE // Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Chapter 20 - The Great Game finale (at last!)

Sherlock opened the door that led to where the actual pool was. His surroundings were silent and calm with no one in sight. The coloured lines bobbed up and down the surface of the chlorinated water, bumping into each other occasionally. A few incredibly small waves disturbed the surface of the pool, rippling a little down. He walked slowly, observing everything that surrounded him. The silence was not daunting in his opinion but could hide many things. 

"Brought you a little getting-to-know-you present. Oh, that's what it's all been for, hasn't it? All your little puzzles; making me dance – all to distract me from this.", he says loudly into the silent large area as he waves the memory stick into the air. He spins around slowly once, before going back to his original position. 

The person he saw knocked all the breath out of him. Y/n stood in front of him, without a hint of remorse written upon her, as he found it, pretty face. She was wearing an oversized winter coat completely wrapped around her body. For a moment, they gaze at each other, unable to utter a word. Sherlock was dumbfounded, shocked and perhaps betrayed? Something unfurled in him like hurt and anger. For this woman, the one standing in front of him had spoken, helped, followed, all to in the end behind this game? Perhaps it was betrayal in the end. How quaint to manage to put a word on such emotions and feelings. Well, usually he didn't bother of feel anything. But with Y/n, it was different and he had accepted that by now; he had passed that step.

Y/n refused to cry or show any sign of anything. It hurt her to see Sherlock that way, to see how she had potentially hurt him, even though she hadn't really. She took a tentative yet affirmed step towards him. 

"Evening.", she greeted the dark haired detective. His hand faltered a little as did his stance, "This is a turn-up, isn't it, Sherlock?" 

"Y/n... What the hell ...?", Sherlock said softly in shock. Her face betrays nothing of the whirlwind she was currently undergoing. 

"Bet you never saw this coming.", she added. Sherlock looked so pityingly sad and shocked. He started walking slowly towards her, eyes captured in her own. Those eyes he found somewhat beautiful but that had betrayed him. Y/n takes a deep breath in and as ordered by Moriarty, opens the winter coat to reveal the large bomb strapped to her chest. Out of nowhere, the bright red point from a sniper's laser landed on her heaving chest. "What ... would you like me ... to make her say ... next?", she enunciated, pronouncing those words as soon as they were spoken in her earpiece. The detective continued advancing, looking around at everything except her for who possibly could be behind this, truly. "Gottle o' geer ... gottle o' geer ... gottle o' geer. Blueberry muffin." 

"Stop it.", Sherlock asked whoever was blowing these poisonous sweet whispers into her ear. 

"Nice touch, this: the pool where little Carl died. I stopped him.", she took an extra gulp of oxygen, "I can stop Y/n Baxter too. Stop her heart." 

Her voice didn't quaver even though she wanted the tears to line down her face like water filling canals in large brown lands. A large speck of wondrous admiration towards that strong young woman was uncovered inside his mind, as a shining gold nugget. 

"Who are you?" 

"I gave you my number. I thought you might call.", Moriarty said plaintively. He slowly walks out into the open and realisation dawns over Sherlock. His soft cupid bow lips part a little, as if he had whispered an 'oh' into the pool air. His gaze looks murderous, "Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket ...", Sherlock reached and pulled out a pistol from his jacket pocket, "... or are you just pleased to see me?"

Sherlock aimed it at the man who had just entered, "Both." 

"Jim Moriarty. Hi!", he greeted in a friendly manner, "Jim? Jim from the hospital? Oh. Did I really make such a fleeting impression? But then, I suppose, that was rather the point.", all whilst he said this, Sherlock kept the gun firmly aimed at Moriarty's figure who was gradually walking towards them,  "Don't be silly. Someone else is holding the rifle. I don't like getting my hands dirty. I've given you a glimpse, Sherlock, just a teensy glimpse of what I've got going on out there in the big bad world. I'm a specialist, you see like you!"