The Endgame (BBC Sherlock) -3-

16. The Finale (Part 1)

(Rachel's POV)

I'll be back in Bayley's arms. Sherlock and Dad will come. Moriarty will be stopped. This will all end soon. I told myself that mentally as I rocked back and forth on the bed.

To his credit, Moriarty kept his word. He didn't spray the drug in my room, rendering me a blissful idiot to the obvious dangerous situation. I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my palms. This is it. The last game we will ever play with Jim Moriarty.

I bit down on my thumbnail, waiting for someone to burst through the door and rescue me. I looked at the barred windows. The night made them feel more intimidating.

I got off the bed, touching the glass of one of the windows. Outside, all I saw was darkness, and possibly the shapes of trees. Wherever we were, if I could escape, I could hide in the woods and get help. It'd be good cover. Now if only I could climb...

Moriarty didn't pay me a visit since I stormed out of the room after the video conference. My heart was running fast even though I wanted to remain calm. They had to figure out where I am by now. They're smart. Moriarty purposely gave them a big hint. He's tired of waiting.

I turned towards the door when I thought I heard commotion. After listening for a long minute, I believed I was tricking myself. I'm losing my mind. How am I still sane in this place? A madman drugged me. A man who's conflicted and horrible at expressing his feelings. My mind was in a tailspin.

I couldn't picture Jim Moriarty being anything other than the psychopath that I'd known him to be.

I jumped as the door was busted into. I pushed myself near the window. I was a bit disappointed that it wasn't Bayley, but my dad was just as big of a relief.

"Dad!" I squeaked. I nearly ran him over when I embraced him and sobbed into his shoulder.

"Rachel, oh, god," he muttered, smoothing my hair down. "You're okay. I'm here. It's okay. We're both here."

"W-where's Sherlock?" I stepped away, wiping my face.

"We split up to look for you." He touched my face. "Are you hurt?"

I shook my head. "No."

"Come on, let's get out of here."

"What about Sherlock? Is he trying to find Moriarty?"

"I don't know. He told me to split, and then he ran off before I could suggest something else."

I chuckled. "That sounds like him."

"Come on."

Just as we nearly left my room, a gunshot sounded. Dad shoved me into the wall, away from the doorway. Crap. He kept a protective hold over me and pulled out a weapon of his own.

"When I say, you run," he told me sternly. "I'll be right behind you."

"Dad—"

"I promise, Rachel."

I squeezed his hand. "Okay."

"Ready. One, two..." He jumped out of my room, firing shots. "Now!"

I ran for my life, ducking as I heard the loud pops ring on the upper level of the mansion. Stairs, stairs, stairs. I found the railing, and nearly got my hand shot off when I tried to grab it—I saw the bullet bite into it. I nearly fell as I missed a step on the way down.