Saving Grace(A Sherlock/BBC Fan-fiction)

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Never Insignificant

"Oh gosh." I walked a little ways away, leaned against a tree, and threw up.

"Oh dear...the cupboard is bare." Mycroft said.

"They must've buried it underneath. They must have buried it underneath the coffin." He went to jump back in the hole but I stopped him. He looked down at me and I shook my head.

"Stop this now...please." I begged. "I can't take it anymore. There's no body down there, Sherlock." I could see it in his eyes that, thought he didn't want to, he knew I was right.

"Do not forget me. Do not forget me."  The body sat up, falling on top of Sherlock.

~~~Sherlock~~~

"Ah!" I woke up, the rain soaking my body. I was lying on a rock. The Richenbach Cauldron. "Oh, I see. Still not awake, am I?" Across from me stood Moriarty.

"Too deep, Sherlock. Way too deep. Congratulations, you'll be the first man in history to be buried in his own mind palace."

"The setting's a shade melodramatic, don't you think?" I asked.

"For you two? Never." I looked up at there was Grace, stood next to Moriarty.

"What are you?"

"You know what I am. I'm Moriarty. The Napoleon of crime."

"Moriarty's dead."

"Not in your mind, dear." Grace said. "Much like me, Moriarty will always be very much alive in your mind."

"You once called your brain a hard drive. Well, say hello to the virus. This is how we end, you and I. Always here, always together."

"You have a magnificent brain, Moriarty. I admire it. I concede it may be even the equal of my own."

"I'm touched. I'm honored."

"But when it comes to the matter of unarmed combat on the edge of a precipice, you're going in the water...shorty."

"Funny. I thought that was Grace." He shoved her, much like he did in the pool, and she fell over the edge.  I charged at him, grabbing his throat and slamming him against the wall.

"You think you're so big and strong, Sherlock. Not with me! Not when it comes to Grace. " He shoved me away, knocking me to the ground, my head hanging over the edge. "We are your weaknesses!" He punched me in the face. "I keep you down. EVERY TIME YOU STUMBLE! EVERY TIME YOU FAIL! WHEN YOU'RE WEAK! I. AM. THERE. No, don't try to fight it. Lie back and lose."

"You're wrong." We both looked up to see Grace and John standing before us. "I'm not his weakness. I'm your strength. I lift you up. Every time you stumble, every time you fail, when you're weak. I. am. There. We both are."
 

"Shall we go over together? That's how it's got to be, together right? In the end it's always just you and me."

"Wrong again." John said, cocking a gun and pointing it at them. "Professor, if you wouldn't mind stepping away from my friend, I do believe he finds your attention a shade annoying."

"That's not fair, there's two of you."

"Three." Grace corrected. "There's always three. Don't you read The Strand?"

"But you, Gracie Lestrade, don't count! You're insignificant, remember?! Always living in the shadows of Sherlock and Dr. Watson!"

"She could never be insignificant." I told him. "And her name is Grace."

"On your knees, Professor. Hands behind your head."

"Thank you, John." I told him.

"Since when do you call me John?"

"You'd be surprised."

"No I wouldn't. Time you woke up Sherlock. I'm a storyteller, I know when I'm in one."

" 'Course. Of course you do, John."

"So what're they like," Grace asked, "the other us, in the other place?"

"You, smarter than he looks."

"Pretty darn smart then."

"Pretty darn smart."

"What about me?" Grace asked. I smiled.

"You are, in every sense of the word, My saving Grace."

"oh gosh, why don't you three just elope for God's sake." Moriarty whined.

"Impertinent." John told him.

"Offensive."

"And just down right impossible. James Moriarty...I think it's high time you took a swim." And with a kick to the back of the head, Grace sent him falling over the edge. "It was my turn."

"Quite so."

"So...how do you plan to wake up?" John asked.

"Oh...I should think like this." I stepped up onto the edge of the rock.

"You sure?"

"Between you and me John I always survive the fall."

"But how?"

"Elementary, my dear Watson. Grace." I tossed the dear stalker over the edge, and then proceeded to spread my arms and fall forward, leaving the two on the rock, watching me.

"We're always there to catch you!" Grace called. I smiled.

"Precisely, Gracie Holmes. Precisely."

~~~

My eyes opened and I was on the jet again. Grace was perched on my lap, John and Mary leaned over me, and Mycroft stayed back.

"Sherlock, are you alright?" John asked.

"Yes, of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

" 'Cause you probably just OD'ed, you should be in hospital." Mary reasoned.

"No time. I have to go to Baker Street now, Moriarty's back." I put my hands on Grace's waist, lifting her from my lap and grabbing her hand.

"I almost hope he is, if it'll save you from this." Mycroft said, holding up the list. I took it, ripping it up.

"No need for that now. I've got the real thing. I have work to do."

"We have work to do." Grace corrected.

"Sherlock...promise me." Mycroft asked.

"What are you still doing here? Shouldn't you be off getting me a pardon or something? Like a proper big brother?"

~~~Grace~~~

"Dr. Watson...Mrs. Holmes..." Mycroft stopped us. "Look after him. Please."

"Always." I replied, smiling at him and following Sherlock off the plane.

"Come along Grace, Watsons. The game is on!"

"Indeed it is. But Sherlock, there's something I need to-"

"You're pregnant." He said.

"What? How on earth-"

"Grace, is there even a point in questioning it anymore?" John asked.

"No...I suppose there isn't."

"So Sherlock, explain, is Moriarty alive then?"

"I never said he was alive, I said he was back." Sherlock corrected.

"So, he's dead?" Mary asked.

" 'Course he's dead, he blew his own brains out. No one survives that. I just went to the trouble of an overdose to prove it. Moriarty is dead. No question. But more importantly...I know exactly what he is going to do next. Oh, and Grace?"

"Hmm?" He grabbed my face, pressing his lips against mine, hard. This was a kiss full of something I never thought Sherlock was capable of: Passion.

"You could never be insignificant."