This is an AU JohnLock fanfiction ♥
Rated: PG
'Moriarty doesn't turn out to be what Sherlock expected'
Hello there Darlings!
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I'm just beginning writing JohnLock fanfiction and comments, likes, & votes would be very much appreciated ♥
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Thank you!
I hope you enjoy ♥
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A cool slight breeze blew gently and a blanket of darkness covered the clear moon lit sky. The tall dark haired detective stood straight and pulled his blazer snugly around himself. His cheekbones created a deep shadow, and the corners if his mouth twitched up slightly in anticipation.
He quietly walked out of his comfortable flat on 221B Baker Street going unnoticed by their landlady or anyone else. John had gone off to Sara's again. Sherlock had went and decided by himself that he would meet this 'dangerous criminal' who had been keeping him busy with these crimes and puzzles all this time.
They were to meet at 9:00 p.m. precisely, at the same pool where poor little Carl Powers drowned. That being the very first case Sherlock was interested in as a young boy.
Catching a cab ride and then briskly walking the short rest of the way, he took cautious steps while walking towards the eerie, empty pool house. The curly haired sociopath was a twinge excited and ever so curious of who this 'Moriarty' figure would be.
'What would he look like?
What's going to happen?
Is he as brilliant as he seems?'
All of these thoughts raced through his mind, kind of like a sort of childlike wonder you could say. He was dying of anticipation, but he knew he also had to be careful. Nobody was there to back him up, John wouldn't be there to save him if he needed it.
He was on his own.
The statistics showed that his mysterious mastermind would most likely be a man, but that was just some of what Sherlock could deduce of him. He was prepared for a man of genius and a master of crime, but he could only confirm his suspicions by meeting him. The detective slowly and cautiously walked into the pool center, clutching the missile plans in one hand, and in his other pocket securely holding a British army Browning l9A1 military Browning for protection.
He wasn't sure if firearms would be involved, but just as a per caution. He could feel the adrenaline from meeting someone who could match to his intellect pumping through his veins.
This was what he lived for. The rush of the game.
He was nearing the entrance of the pool house.
Sherlock was prepared for whatever he thought could have the possibility of happening.
But with only this amount of data, his knowledge was severely limited.
'Finally i can see who this Moriarty is.'
He quietly thought to himself, ridiculously afraid that his thoughts could be heard in some way.
Striding in, the detective's long legs took him to the nearest corner of the pool. Looking around the faint blue reflection of the pool could be seen dancing off the walls.
"Brought you a little getting to know you present."
He said bluntly, holding up the missile plans showingly, making sure they could be seen from whatever vantage point this 'Moriarty' character was hiding at.
The curly haired detective stood there for a second, waiting for something to happen or someone to appear.
A slight rustling movement could be seen behind one of the changing curtains. Subtle at first. The curtains started to open. Sherlock turned his head sharply and quickly. In that split second of bewilderment, the detective's face went blank. His expression looked bleak, like a lost child.
He watched John hobble out uncomfortably from behind the changing curtains, dressed in a fluffy, over-sized parka. He was walking stiffly and had a grave expression. The doctor stopped, standing a few feet away from his collegue.
Silence.
'What?
John?
John Watson?
What is he doing here?
Why? How?
Fluffy parka, obviously concealing something, but what? bulky,grim expression, bomb.
It's a bomb.
Moriarty has John.'
Sherlock's thoughts raced, making deductions in mere seconds. His thoughts were cut off promptly, when John began to talk in a straight, monotone voice.
"Evening ."
A red dot appeared on the Doctor's chest and Sherlock automatically stiffened up without acknowledging that he had stopped breathing. This feeling was alien to him. He never got attached to anyone, but he unknowingly created a bond to the good Doctor, his already trustworthy and loyal collegue.
A friend.
His first friend.
John looked grim and sweat could be seen beading at his hairline. But, something was different. Sherlock didn't know what it was.
John was different .
He quickly disregarded his thoughts when John started to move. The shorter man looked pale as he started to cautiously open the thick, bomb rigged parka.
The doctor pulled aside the jacket. His hands were slightly shaking. He tugged at the jacket flap to the side revealing..
Nothing.
Nothing at all.
No bomb, no harness, no wires, nothing.
It was absolutely and utterly void.
Sherlock's eyes widened, he stared into the parka searching for traces, or anything that could've faintly resembled a bomb.
'What? What was happening?
No bomb?
Makes no sense. Why would John be here then?
Moriarty.
Oh. Oh god.
Unless...'
The great detective thought for a second. His thoughts turning to the impossible.
'Oh god no.
Please no.'
Sherlock felt sick.
Sick to his stomach.
He leaned forward slightly, holding up his hand with the gun to his abdomen trying to calm his racing thoughts.
For the first time in his entire life, the infamous Sherlock holmes had no idea what was happening.
His eyes looked empty, betrayal of everything he thought to be real. His ingenious brain that ran ten miles a second had just screeched to a stop.
He froze, starting right into the blue eyes of the good, once seemingly loyal Doctor John Watson.
That wasn't the man Sherlock thought he knew.
It was Moriarty.
John Watson was Moriarty.
The detective stood completely stunned. The 'doctor' stood there, the corners of his mouth turning up into a cheeky smile. Letting the heavy parka drop to the tile floor, he revealed a black slim fit suit underneath complete with a slick blue tie and shining ebony shoes.
He muttered slightly under his breath, fussing with straightening his tie and slicking back his blonde short hair; completely concerned with his appearance at the moment.
Moriarty then looked up at Sherlock patting his suit down with both of his hands and pulling a pleasant expression over his features and simply stated,
"Westwood."
The consulting criminal kept his smooth expression and took a couple steps back, looking right into the dark eyes of the consulting detective as if he was trying to get a better look at the utterly confused man.
"Well, i guess you weren't expecting this, huh?"
He asked, crossing his arms gently across his abdomen.
Sherlock just stood there, holding his gun up, frozen. His thoughts were desperately trying to contain themselves.
'What i know: John is Moriarty.
He has been there the entire time...right under my nose.......Literally.'
He was making a frugal attempt to lighten his mood.
Attempt failed.
Seeing that Sherlock wasn't responding, he continued on.
"Brilliant isn't it? The whole quaint army doctor facade. A bit too good don't you think?"
He looked over at the detective expecting a response but saw that he was still frozen in place, gun still firmly in hand.
The once good doctor tsked and looked at Sherlock.
"Come on Sherly, don't you know better?"
he smiled still standing a good 2 yards from the detective.
"It's rude to point a gun at a person while they're talking..." his voice lingered off,
"JUST RUDE!"
His voice exploded in a fragment of a second. Moriarty's voice boomed and his features scrunched up in a flash of anger. But he quickly relaxed to his normal tone of speaking and regained his neutral complexion.
This wasn't the doctor Watson he knew.
Sherlock escaped his daze and stood up straight, lowering the gun slowly to his side.
"Missile plans." He bluntly stated, holding them out arms length from himself. Sherlock's face showed no expression what so ever.
He locked himself up, never to trust anyone or anything again.
He had to remember he had no friends.
He would never have friends.
He didn't need them.
They were completely worthless, a distraction.
He didn't have friends.
His mind was helplessly trying to convince itself.
The detective's once good companion had a little look of surprise. He walked to Sherlock in small strides covering the 2 yards between them and plucked the missile plans from his hand.
"Oh, these?" He said with an off tone voice
"I can could've already gotten these!" he yelled with a psychotic laughing tone flinging the plans into the pool. He stood looking up at the detective's stone cold face.
"Oh?" The shorter man looked over the consulting detective's features.
"Ooh!" He exclaimed using a tone of voice, as if he had just figured something out. His face being a mix of a smile and an exaggerated face of surprise.
"I've disappointed you?"
No response.
"Oh, i have haven't I?"
Chuckling to himself and looking down. He lifted his eyes to stare into Sherlock's eyes. Moriarty stood a mere 5 inches from his un moving face.
"Come on Sherlock! You have no friends." He slyly smiled.
"That loyal army doctor you though to be your friend wasn't real!" Moriarty threw his arms up, his voice bouncing, echoing off the empty tile walls.
"COME ON. THINK SHERLOCK. " He yelled in a stern voice, giving a slight hint of disappointment and frustration. A hard, cruel smile curled at the corners of his mouth. He walked up to him again, stretching up on his toes and whispered into his ear,
"Nobody will ever want you."
Sherlock stared into his thought to be friends eyes. All he could see was John. The John that had accepted him, deductions and all.
Working up the strength to talk all he could choke out was a faint "Why?"
"Why. Not." His response was void of emotion and chopped.
"Being your quaint companion was fun I must say. Following you around like a loyal dog. Yes, i learned a lot of you. Your likes, dislikes" he paused a bit, "your habits." He smiled.
"I think you've become quite attached to this Doctor Watson I made up." He stated with a slight mocking tone in his voice,
"but, he wasn't real my dear Sherly."
"Oh, he could never be."
Sherlock's expression grew grim.
"He was to me." He choked out, barely above a whisper. He noticed his hands were trembling slightly, and it was getting harder to swallow. He had gotten attached to John, more than he ever thought he would, but he couldn't help it. The John Watson he thought he knew accepted Sherlock no matter how hard he was to live with.
But he wasn't real.
Nothing was real anymore.
Moriarty relished the lost look on the detective's face. He was proud really. Wondering if the great Sherlock Holmes could be broken. Consulting Detective's got bored too you know. He turned his head upwards and waved his hand slightly, as if sending a signal.
The detective, his face still twisted in a inexplicable grimace, looked up slightly.
Suddenly, tiny red dots swarmed onto Sherlock's chest.
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