The Endgame (BBC Sherlock) -3-

16. The Finale (Part 1)

I jumped a few steps at a time. Freedom was so close, I could practically taste it. Sherlock, where are you? I stopped, looking upwards, as I heard more loud shots. Come on, Dad. You promised.

"What are you doing, Rachel?!" Dad exclaimed. He was at the top of the stairs, firing shots down the hall. "Move!"

Feeling slightly better, he and I continued our frantic escape down the stairs.

"Where is he?" I asked, panting, as I saw the doors within reach.

"I wouldn't, if I were you," came the drawl of Jim Moriarty.

Dad and I froze, and he spun around, gun aimed at Moriarty.

Moriarty smirked. "I wouldn't. You may be a good shot, Johnny, but Sebastian is better."

"Dad..." I whispered as I saw the red dot dancing on his chest. He glanced down and saw it too.

"So close," Moriarty snickered. "Don't worry, Rachel, I didn't want you to feel left out."

I had a dancing red dot on my chest now too. "Thank you," I said curtly. "Would've hurt my feelings if I didn't have my own sniper."

"Ah, that attitude never gets annoying." He sighed. "One, two...I believe we're missing someone. Where is he? He's the guest of honor!"

"Couldn't tell you," said Dad.

"Put down the weapon, John. It won't do you good here."

Dad wasn't happy, but he put the weapon to the floor and kicked it over in Moriarty's direction for good measure. "I knew it was too easy."

"Well, of course it had to be! How else would I get you two right where I want you?" Moriarty looked around. "Come out, Sherlock! We're all waiting on you!"

"I thought you were more observant than that?" asked Sherlock. My heart ran fast as the detective emerged behind Moriarty. Moriarty spun around, and he laughed gleefully. Sherlock didn't look impressed. "You're slipping on your game."

"Mm, not really." Moriarty backpedaled towards Dad and I. "Bravo on keeping your end of the deal. I love when things go according to plan."

"Stop stalling," I said strongly. "You've got us where you want us. What's this all about?"

"If you recall, the last time we played a game, I destroyed Sherlock's reputation. I thought it was enough. Apparently, it wasn't. But like I told him from the beginning, I would burn the heart out of him. Now, it seems that time has come." Moriarty paced behind Dad and me. "You've gone soft, Sherlock. I've had people watching your antics, and I must say, it's damn fine telly to watch! All the drama, suspense! You nearly had me when you died, I almost got upset!

"You've grown a heart to fit you, Sherlock Holmes. And this will prove it. You choose who dies first."

"What?" I stammered. "What, no, 'choose one and the other lives'?"

"What kind of fun is that, Rachel?" I felt Moriarty's hand move hair behind my ear. "He knows I'll kill both of you anyway. I figure I'd give him the privilege of choosing the first to go. His best friend, or the woman he swore to protect."

I licked my lips. "What if I work for you?"

I heard him snort. "Too late, Rach. You've had plenty of opportunities to take that offer."

"If you kill Sherlock, because we all know that you will, then who will you have to play with?" I turned to the side to lock eyes with Moriarty. "Because surely nobody compares to the great Sherlock Holmes. Anyone else in the world won't live up to your expectations. I work for you, you let them go, the game continues. You don't want it to end so soon, do you? Please, Jim." I reached for his face. He grabbed my wrist, stopping my fingertips from brushing his cheek.