Glass - A Sherlock Fan Fiction

Chapter Forty Six

John stood proud as Mycroft hurled insults at him, keeping his mouth pressed firmly closed as he watched him demand Sherlock shoot him. He had been a soldier, and today, they were all soldiers. This was what he had to do.

Yet like Sherlock often did, he saw through his brother's façade. Beneath the cold, mean veneer stood a man who had always cared for him. A man who was willing to die for him. He lifted the gun and aimed it at Mycroft.

"Sherlock. Don't," John whispered.

Mycroft turned to him. "It's not your decision, Dr Watson." He looked back to his brother with a smile. "Not in the face, though, please. I've promised my brain to the Royal Society."

Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment. "where would you suggest?"

"Well... I suppose there is a heart somewhere inside me. I don't imagine it's much of a target but... why don't we try for that?"

John held his hand out. "I won't allow this."

"But he was right," said Mycroft, his eyes never leaving Sherlock's. "This is my fault... Moriarty."

"Moriarty?"

"Her Christmas treat: five minutes' conversation with Jim Moriarty five years ago."

"What did they discuss?"

"Five minutes' conversation... unsupervised." Mycroft fixed his suit and smiled. "Goodbye, brother mine. No flowers... by request."

"Jim Moriarty thought you'd make this choice," said Eurus. "He was so excited."

The lights turned back to red as Moriarty appeared on screen once more.

"And here we are, at the end of the line. Holmes killing Holmes." Moriarty smiled. "This is where I get off."

The lights changed again.

Sherlock grimaced, clenching his jaw. "Five minutes. It took her just five minutes to do all of this to us..." He looked at John, then to Mycroft before lowering the gun. "Well, not on my watch."

"What are you doing?" Eurus' voice was panicked.

"A moment ago, a brave man asked to be remembered. I'm remembering the governor." He brought the gun under his own chin. "Ten..."

Eurus frowned. "No, no, Sherlock."

"Nine... Eight ..."

"You can't!"

"Seven..."

"You don't know about Redbeard yet!"

"Six..."

"Sherlock!"

"Five..."

"Sherlock, stop that at once!"

Three small darts shot out of the walls, sticking each man in the neck.

"Four..." Sherlock continued, reaching around and pulling the dart out. "Three..." He was beginning to feel drowsy, his grip on the gun slackening. "Two..."

He felt himself falling backwards. But before his body met the floor, everything went black.

III

"Are you there yet?" Sherlock's voice rang in John's ear, jolting him awake like an alarm clock.

"Yeah, I'm here," he replied quickly.

He was sitting with his back against a wall of slick, cold rocks. It was dark, but he could feel ice-cold water pooling around his waist.

"John!" He could hear Sherlock's voice again, sounding through an earpiece.