Greta //(A BBC Sherlock: Moriarty Fanfiction)

Chapter 19: "Oh. That's a problem."

AN: Ay! Long time no see! Let's dive right in! 

HAPPY READING! 

boop

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Earlier in Chapter 17...

'Suddenly my anger was relieved once I looked at the slumping body of the pilot, and the pistol smoking in my hands.

"Sir?" Direct asked me again. That's when I realized I made a mistake.

I can't fly a helicopter.

"Do you know how to fly a helicopter?" I asked the Direct and I kicked the body of the pilot out of the open cockpit, taking his spot as Pilot and watched him fall from the 500 ft. fall and realizing that this would be a great height to crash from.' 

Sherlock POV- 

The minute everything seemed as if Moriarty had lost and we were winning, the game flipped on it's side. Men in bright yellow vests came after us, running full pace. John and I exchanged glances, knowing they were meant for us. We were lead into the final room where we would board our plane and get out of England. 

We were able to stop for only a split moment and in that moment, I was able to look up to the second floor and see James Moriarty along with several big men behind him peering down at me from the railing of the airport. He had a smirk on his face, but more of a relieved smirk. A smirk that represented his victory. 

But he hadn't won yet. And I wasn't going to let this fun slip from my fingers. I have the chance to fully rid the world of James Moriarty, the most world-renown criminal in history. More notorious then Satan himself. How could anyone pass up that kind of opportunity? You'd be just as bad as Moriarty. 

I wasn't going to be known as the man who had the possibility to keep the world safe, and completely let go of that because it was a little bit dangerous. 

The men reared near us, and one almost caught hold of my jacket. I quickly spun as I did so, the jacket twirling millimeters from his fat fingers. He tripped, and one other men fell on top, while another one, a slender young man, hurdled over the two fallen guards, racing once again after us. 

We bumped into people, the only one bothering to apologize, even though we were in the middle of being chased by our ultimate deaths, was John, who tried to gently get through the crowds. I, however, was the complete opposite. I body slammed into anyone who was in my way. 

As a mobile lounger came my way, and the yellow vests grew even closer, my fear intensified though I tried to remain as emotionless as possible. The harder I tried, the more impossible the task became. My mind palace was still no where near working condition. The mobile lounger was reaching a speed faster then I ever imagined one being able to reach, and as it zoomed right at us, I noticed a man in a neon green vest, just like the men chasing us and realized it was one of Moriarty's chain. 

A woman with long blonde hair raced up the aisles of the lounger as it reared even closer to John and I. I looked back early enough to see her slam on the breaks and tip the lounge over on it's side, thousands of screams filling the air. I silently thanked the woman once she got up through a window on the side, carrying the knocked-out driver. Our eyes and met, and she smiled weakly as I nodded my head, giving her a job well done, and raced once again. This time John ran in front of me.