WARNING: MAJOR SPOILERS FOR HIS LAST VOW
Molly had only been home for an hours when there was a knock at the door. Whoever it was, the landlord must have let them in already. Molly stood up from where she sat on the sofa and walked to the door, opening it as soon as she got close enough.
“Hello Molly.” Sherlock Holmes said.
“What do you want, Sherlock?” Molly asked.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
Molly rolled her eyes and stepped aside. Sherlock passed through the doorway and Molly closed the door behind him.
“Shall I ask again?” Molly asked. “What do you want?”
“I want to apologize.” He said after a moment.
“Mmm.” Molly hummed.
“Apologies, Molly Hooper,” Sherlock said. “I apologize for being an arse to you. I shouldn’t have mentioned your failed engagement.”
“I forgive you,” Molly told him. “But you still haven’t apologized for the worst bit.”
Sherlock raised an eyebrow.
“Your substance abuse,” Molly said. “You haven’t apologized for using again.”
“Why would I apologize for that?” Sherlock asked. “I’ve explained myself, it’s all for a case.”
“It’s not just that Sherlock,” Molly said. “That is just an excuse. You can’t just quit, and you know that. I can’t always be there to save you, Sherlock.”
“You won’t need to be,” Sherlock said. “I promise.”
Molly was quiet for a moment.
“What’s that?” She asked, pointing to a bump in Sherlock’s coat pocket.
Sherlock reached his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small box. “This?”
“Yeah,” Molly said. “Is that an engagement ring?”
“Indeed it is.” Sherlock said.
“Are you seriously proposing to Janine?”
“I have to.”
“Let me guess, for a case?” Molly said.
“Yes,” Sherlock confirmed. “The same case in fact.”
“I don’t understand why you couldn’t just fake it.”
“Lacks the real feeling.”
Molly rolled her eyes.
“Molly,” Sherlock said. Molly looked up at Sherlock, who had moved to stand directly in front of her. “I apologize.”
“Why apologize?” Molly asked.
“Sorry?”
“Exactly,” Molly said. “Why didn’t you just say sorry?”
“Sorry,” Sherlock said. “is mostly used wrong in today’s language. The real definition of ‘sorry’ is a pitiful state or condition, or it can be used to express sympathy for someone else’s misfortune. You can feel sorry for someone, but if you apologize by saying ‘I am sorry’ then you are apologizing incorrectly. Apologizing, however, is expressing your regrets over something you have done to the person being apologized to. If someone says they are sorry for what they did, they can’t mean it. If they say they apologize, they truly mean it. I truly mean it. Molly Hooper, I apologize for being an arse to you and for my substance abuse. Please, forgive me.”
Molly looked blankly at him, having zoned out during his explanation. “Okay then,” She said. “Now, I think it would be best if you left, Sherlock.”
“Molly.” Sherlock said.
“What?”
“What more do I need to say?”
“You don’t need to say anything, Sherlock,” Molly said. “I forgive you.”
“No you don’t,” Sherlock said. “That’s hardly a difficult deduction.”
“Sherlock.” Molly said.
“Please, forgive me.”
Molly sighed. “I forgive you.”
“Promise?” Sherlock asked.
“Promise.”
“Okay,” Sherlock said, walking towards the door. “I will be on my way then.”
“What?” Sherlock turned at Molly’s voice. “That’s it? All you came to do is apologize to me?”
“I barely had time to do this, Molly.” Sherlock said.
“You aren’t going to say anything else?”
Sherlock walked over to Molly again. “Molly Hooper,” He said. “I’ll see you tonight. We can talk then.”
“I thought this was it,” Molly said. “You are proposing to Janine, then she’ll be out of your life.”
“Well,” Sherlock said. “I won’t break the news that our entire relationship was a lie to get into her boss’s office. I thought if I wait awhile, it might lessen the heartbreak. That’s the least I can do for her in this situation.”
Molly rolled her eyes again. “Yes, of course.”
Sherlock looked at Molly for a minute before giving her a smile. Molly couldn’t help but smile back. Sherlock took a small step forward, and bent down slightly to place a kiss on her right cheek. Molly closed her eyes as Sherlock straightened back up.
“Tonight?” Sherlock asked.
Molly gave a small nod, and Sherlock walked out of the flat.
~ ~ ~ ~
“What–what–what would your husband think, eh?” Sherlock could here the voice of an anxious Charles August Magnusson as he walked through his private penthouse flat. He walked to a door, which was partially open. “He … your lovely husband, upright, honourable.”
Sherlock approached the door, and looked through it where he could see Magnusson on his knees with his hands behind his head, cowering. A woman dressed entirely in black held him at gunpoint.
“ … So, English,” Magnusson continued, unaware of Sherlock’s prescence behind the door. “What–what would he say to you now?” The woman pointing the gun pulled it back and cocked it, then pointed it back at him. Magnusson whimpered. “Nej, nej!”
Sherlock slowly pushed the door opened as Magnusson continued to speak.
“You’re–you’re doing this to protect him from the truth …” Magnusson continued tearfully. “but is this protection he would want?”
Sherlock knew who the gun holder was. Claire de la Lune. It was funny, he thought, how you could know who is at the scene just by smelling their perfume.
“Additionally,” Sherlock began. “If you’re going to commit murder, you might consider changing your perfume … Lady Smallwood.”
Magnusson looked up. “Sorry. Who?” He turned his gaze from Sherlock to the woman. “That’s … not … Lady Smallwood, Mr Holmes.”
Sherlock frowned.
The woman in black slowly turned towards Sherlock. He soon found himself looking at the face of Mary Elizabeth Watson. Sherlock drew in a breath.
Mary was the first to speak. “Is John with you?”
“He’s, um.” Sherlock said shakily.
“Is John here?” Mary asked firmly.
“He’s–he’s downstairs.” Sherlock answered.
Mary nodded.
“So,” Magnusson said softly. “What do you do now? Kill us both?”
Mary smiled humourlessly over her shoulder at Magnusson while keeping her gun aimed directly in front of her at Sherlock. Magnusson slowly lowered his hands and reached them to the floor on his left.
“Mary,” Sherlock said cautiously. “Whatever he’s got on you, let me help.” He shifted his weight to one foot as he prepared to take a step towards Mary.
“Oh, Sherlock, if you take one more step I swear I will kill you.” Mary said, exasperated.
Sherlock shook his head, a small smile on his face. “No, Mrs Watson,” He said gently. “You won’t.”
He lifted a foot off of the floor, and Mary immediately pulled the trigger. The bullet impacted his body. Shock went across Sherlock’s face as he looked down at the hole in his lower chest, slightly to the right of the shirt buttons. Blood started to come out of the hole.
“I’m sorry, Sherlock,” Mary said, slightly tearful. “Truly am.”
Sherlock looked back up at her. “Mary?” He said quietly.
“It’s not like it is in the movies,” Sherlock heard the familiar voice from behind him. “There’s not a great big spurt of blood and you go flying backwards.” The voice, he discovered, belonged to Molly Hooper. She wore her white lab coat, and she had a smile on her face.
She walked around him, and suddenly, Magnusson’s office turned bright white.
Molly’s face showed a more serious look as she spoke this time. “The impact isn’t spread over wide area.”
Molly and Sherlock were now in a white-walled mortuary, and there was a single table in the centre. Molly walked over to the table where a body covered in a white sheet lay. There was an identity tag tied to the corpse’s toe.
“It’s tightly focused so there’s little or no energy transfer,” Molly continued as she pulled back the white sheet. Sherlock’s bare body lay on the table. He began to feel less hope that he would survive, which is why he needed Molly; smart, beautiful Molly. If anybody could save him from this, she could.
Molly continued to speak to Sherlock, who could feel himself become less conscious by the second. “You stay still…” She pulled the sheet off of his waist to reveal the bullet wound. “…and the bullet pushes through. You’re almost certainly going to die, so we need to focus.”
Molly slapped him hard, and his eyes sprung open and he inhaled a huge breath as his head turned to the side with her blow.
He’s back in Magnusson’s office. Mary and Magnusson are frozen, and Sherlock stands in the place where he was shot. Molly appears in front of him.
“…Focus.” She said as she slaps him hard again, and his head turns round with the force.
They are back in the mortuary. In front of Sherlock was the table, which held his own corpse, the sheet covering up to its waist. Molly walked up to the table and lay her hands on the edge, leaning over the table to look at the standing version of Sherlock.
“It’s well and clever having a mind palace,” Molly told him. “But you’ve only got three seconds of consciousness left to use it. So come on, what’s going to kill you?”
Sherlock looked down at his corpse, then looked back up to Mary. “Blood loss.”
Exactly,” Molly said, her voice intense. “So, it’s all about one thing now: Forwards or backwards?” Sherlock closes his eyes momentarily, and when he opens them again, he is back in Magnusson’s office. “We need to decide which way you’re going to fall.”
“One hole,” An annoyingly familiar voice said from behind Sherlock. “Or two?”
Sherlock frowned and turned to look over his shoulder at Phillip Anderson, and wondered why he was even in his Mind Palace. “Sorry?” Anderson raised his eyebrows in a questioning manner.
“… Is the bullet still inside you?” Molly asked. Sherlock turned back to the voice, and saw Molly standing right in front of him. “Or is there and exit wound? It could depend on the gun.”
Sherlock turned his head to the left, and he sees a diagram of different guns. He focuses on one, a Cat-0208.
“That one, I think.” Sherlock said. He looks across to another one, then quickly moves to another gun. “Or that one.” He frowns, and moved to another gun. He began to move on to another gun, when he heard a voice behind him.
“Oh for God’s sakes, Sherlock,” Sherlock’s brother said. Sherlock turned his head to the right and saw Mycroft sitting in his desk. “It doesn’t matter about the gun. Don’t be stupid.” Sherlock turned and walked toward Mycroft, who leaned forward and folded his hands on the desk in front of him. “You always were so stupid.”
Sherlock is suddenly a young boy again, and he continues to walk towards his older brother.
“Such a disappointment.” Mycroft says.
“I’m not stupid.” Young Sherlock said angrily.
“You’re a very stupid little boy,” Mycroft said sternly as he stood up and walked around his desk and leans back on the front of it. “Mummy and Daddy are very cross because it doesn’t matter about the gun.”
“Why not?” Child Sherlock asked Mycroft, frowning.
“You saw the whole room when you entered it,” Mycroft told him. “What was directly behind you when you were murdered?”
“I’ve not been murdered yet.” Sherlock said.
“Balance of probability, little brother.” Mycroft said, grinning.
Sherlock was an adult again. He turned round and was in Magnusson’s office again, in the place where he was shot. He turned round to the wall behind him, which had a row of panelled mirrors. He walked closer and looked into the mirror.
“If the bullet had passed through you,” Mycroft said as he walked closer to Sherlock. “What would you have heard?”
“The mirror shattering.” Sherlock answered.
“You didn’t. Therefore…?” Mycroft questioned.
“The bullet’s still inside me.” Sherlock walked back to his original spot. He turned his head to the next voice that spoke.
“So,” Anderson, who was behind Sherlock again, said to Molly. “We need to take him down backwards.”
“I agree. Sherlock…” Molly said. She was standing in front of Sherlock again. Sherlock turned his attention to Molly. “… you need to fall on your back.”
Anderson had begun walking round the right side of Sherlock. “Right now, the bullet is the cork in the bottle.”
Molly had begun to walk round the left side of Sherlock. “The bullet itself is blocking most of the blood flow.”
Anderson came to a halt in front of Sherlock. “But any pressure or impact on the entrance wound could dislodge it.”
“Plus, on your back, gravity’s working for us.” Molly stood directly behind Sherlock now, as if she and Sherlock were about to do a trust fall. “Fall now.” She said firmly.
Sherlock half closed his eyes, and began to fall back. He seemed to be going in slow motion as he fell backwards to where his pathologist had been standing. Molly was gone now. It was just Sherlock, a kneeling Magnusson, and Mary, who had her gun pointed at the blackmailer.
Before his body hit the floor, he began to panic.
His eyes were closed, and he was moving backwards. He could here a loud alarm, and he covered his ears. He backed into something, and he lowered his hands and looked next to him. He had rand into a wall of body cabinets, like you would find in a mortuary.
“What the hell is that?” He asked. “What’s happening?” He looked down as one of the cabinets slid open. Sherlock’s body lay on it. Sherlock stared down at his corpse in horror. All he felt was fright; he was scared, and he didn’t know what to do.
“You’re going into shock,” Molly Hooper said. She had appeared on the other side of the tray that Sherlock’s body lay on. She looked across at him. “It’s the next thing that’s going to kill you.”
“What do I do?” Sherlock asked.
“Don’t go into shock, obviously.” Mycroft appeared in Molly’s spot. Sherlock, still wide-eyed and terrified, looked up to his brother. “Must be something in this ridiculous memory palace that can calm you down.”
Calm you down. The words echoed.
“Find it.” Mycroft said.
Sherlock closes his eyes, and then he’s running down a staircase.
“There’s an East wind coming, Sherlock,” Sherlock heard his brother say. “It’s coming to get you.”
Sherlock’s own voice echoed through his head as he ran down corridors in his Mind Palace. “It’s coming to get you.”
Sherlock opened a door in front of him, and Mary stood before him. She wore her wedding dress, and a white veil covered her face. She had a pistol in hand, and it was aimed at Sherlock as she fired a bullet into him again.
Sherlock screamed, and he could feel his real body still falling backwards.
Find it. Sherlock heard his brother’s voice.
He ran from the door, and ran down the hallway. He found a set of double doors and pulled them open. Light flooded the corridor, and he stared down it. Molly stood in the centre of the corridor, smiling at him.
Sherlock smiled, and ran to her, almost shouting her name as he ran. She stayed put and hugged him when he reached her. Sherlock wrapped his arms around Molly, and tried to feel safe again. He tried to calm down. Molly pulled away.
She frowned up at him, and tears began to fill her eyes. “It’s not working, is it?”
“Molly.” Sherlock said.
Molly took a small step towards him. She stared up at him for a moment, and then grabbed the lapels of his coat and pulled him down, and gently pressed her lips to his. Sherlock responded quickly, and kissed her back gently. He moved one hand to her waist, and the other to the small of her back. Molly moved her hands into his dark curls, and attempted to pull him closer to her.
The kiss was distracting, and Sherlock thought of it as a painkiller. It didn’t exactly get rid of the shock, but it dulled it; made it almost forgetable. That was good enough for him. He could tell that it was only temporary, so he did his best to not think about the pain of being shot. He focused on Molly, and her lips on his. He thought of the sensation it gave him, and the excitement he felt. Sherlock had no idea how long he and Molly kissed, but it felt infinite.
She was the one to pull away, and she looked back up at him. “It’s still not enough, is it?”
Sherlock couldn’t say anything. He just stared at her, and began to feel the shock of the situation come back.
“Redbeard.” Molly said.
Sherlock turned slowly, and across the corridor, an Irish setter lay on the floor. Sherlock felt a huge smile come across his face and he got on his knees and patted his lap.
“Redbeard!” He said. “Come here boy!”
The dog stood up and began trotting towards Sherlock.
Suddenly, Molly disappeared, and Sherlock was a child again. “Come on boy!”
Then, he was an adult. “Come on Redbeard, come on! Come to me! It’s okay! It’s alright!”
His child form took over again. “Come on, it’s me!”
“Hey boy.” Adult Sherlock told his childhood dog as it sat in front of him.
Redbeard began to lick his face, and Sherlock was a child again. “Good boy!” Sherlock praised. “Clever boy!”
Redbeard continued to lick his face, as he became an adult again. “Good boy, Redbeard.” Sherlock rubbed Redbeard’s head. He pet the dog and suddenly, a sadness came over him.
Redbeard licked Sherlock’s closed eyes.
“They’re putting me down too…” Sherlock told his pet. “It’s no fun, is it?”
Sherlock began to fall back onto the floor of the corridor. When he hit the carpet, he stared blankly at the ceiling.
Molly appeared behind him. “Without the shock, you’re going to feel the pain.” She said, her voice completely serious and focused.
Sherlock began to convulse. His teeth clenched as he held back screams.
“There’s a hole ripped through you,” Molly continued, looking towards Sherlock seriously. “Massive internal bleeding.”
Sherlock continued to convulse.
“You have to control the pain.” Molly demanded.
Sherlock ran down the stairs again. Molly’s voice rang in his head.
Control the pain. You have to control the pain.
Sherlock reached the bottom of the staircase and opened a door to a padded cell. He ran into the room and closed the door behind him, flattening his body against it. He convulsed and cried out in pain.
Control. Control…
“Control! Control. Control.” Sherlock’s voice quieted each time he said the word. He stood in a small, circular room with a cement floor and padded walls. Sherlock had red circles around his eyes, and he looked across the room.
There was a man huddled against the wall on the other side of the cell. He wore a dirty white straitjacket. A metal collar was fastened around his neck, and Sherlock could see that he was chained to the wall by it. Sherlock could not see the man’s face, but he knew exactly who it was.
“You,” Sherlock said. He was breathing heavily as he took a few steps towards the man crouched on the floor. “You never felt pain, did you? Why did you never feel pain?”
“You always feel it, Sherlock.” Jim Moriarty slowly turned his head away from the padded wall, and toward Sherlock, who stared down at him. Within seconds, Moriarty and gotten up and ran toward Sherlock until he reached the end of the chain. He was inches from Sherlock’s face, and he kept running against the restraint. “But you don’t. Have. To. FEAR it!”
Sherlock doubled over, his hand grabbing the bullet wound as he cried out in agony. Moriarty stared at him mentally; his eyes wide as he watched all of the pain explode from within Sherlock. Sherlock slowly crumpled to the floor, then slumped onto his back.
Moriarty continued to stare down at Sherlock as he writhed. “Pain…” He said. “Heartbreak… Loss…” He took a longer pause and whispered, “Death…”
Sherlock cried out and writhed on the floor; tears falling from his eyes and Moriarty continued to stare down at him.
Moriarty’s whisper was intense. “It’s all good.” He said. “It’s all good.”
Sherlock wished for nothing more then for the pain gone.
“It’s raining.” Moriarty sang slowly, sounding completely mental.
Sherlock just wanted to see his friends again. John, Greg…Molly.
“It’s pouring.”
He wanted to give Molly one last kiss on the cheek, and apologize again.
“Sherlock is boring.”
He wanted her to forgive him completely.
“I’m laughing.”
He wanted her to help him with the pain, like she helped dull it in the corridor.
“I’m crying.”
The pain was unbearable.
“Sherlock…”
And what he wanted more than anything…
“Is dying…”
…Was to be dead.
“Come on Sherlock,” Moriarty said softly. He was on his knees next to Sherlock, saliva spilling from his mouth and onto the ground in front of him.. “Just die, why don’t you?”
Sherlock lay on his back, still. He could feel himself drifting into unconsciousness again, except he was sure he wouldn’t wake up.
“Just one more push,” Moriarty dropped to his side and slid himself across the floor so that his face would be close to Sherlock’s head. “And off you pop.”
And Sherlock’s heart stopped.
“Oh,” Moriarty said. “You’re going to love being dead, Sherlock. No-one ever bothers you….”
The darkness was all Sherlock could see.
“Mrs Hudson will cry; and Mummy and Daddy will cry…”
It was as if…
“And The Woman will cry; and John will cry buckets and buckets.”
As if nothing had ever existed.
“And we can’t forget Molly Hooper.”
Nothing.
“It’s them that I worry about the most.”
Would anyone really miss him?
“And John’s wife.” Moriarty blew out a loud breath.
Was there any point in even trying to come back?
“You’re letting them down Sherlock…”
Maybe there was no reason to try and continue to live.
“Both of them.”
Nobody could possibly miss him.
“John Watson and Molly Hooper are definitely in danger.”
Or possibly…
Sherlock’s eyes opened abruptly. Moriarty slowly turned his head to him. Sherlock convulsed once and then blinked. He lets out a painful sigh. He tried to stand up, but grimaced with the effort.
He groaned as he slammed his hand onto the cell floor, forcing himself onto once elbow. He raised his other arm and punched to concrete floor savagely with all of the strength he could manage.
Moriarty was kneeled by him, and looked irritated. “Oh,” He said tetchily. “You’re not getting better, are you?”
Sherlock pulled himself to his feet and staggered, slumping against the wall and looking at the insane Moriarty.
“Was it something I said, huh?” Moriarty asked. He smiled at Sherlock, but the smile faded as Sherlock glared at him. Sherlock was breathing heavily and was covered in sweat.
Sherlock pushed himself off the wall and pushed open the door next to him. “Molly!” He said frantically.
Moriarty stared at Sherlock as he ran out. His eyes were wide and his voice was full of panic and anger as he screamed. “SHERLOCK!”
Outside the cell, Sherlock staggers quickly to the stare case and falls at the bottom, grabbing onto the banister. He grips it and pulls himself up. He grimaced, and his face filled with agony as he hauled himself up the stairs, letting out a grunt every time his arms swung to meet the banister. He cried out with the painful effort.
He was going to do it. He was going to live.
“Molly!” He cried out. “John!”
He screamed out in pain, and he could feel tears falling from his eyes. The pain was agonizing, but he couldn’t give up. It was just a staircase. A staircase would not be the end of him.
He grabbed onto the banister with both hands, pulling his entire body upwards.
“Come on!” He screamed.
“Sherlock!” He looked up, and saw Molly Hooper standing at the top of the steps. “Come on! Please!”
“Molly!” Sherlock cried out.
“Come on!” Molly stood still, waiting for him. “You’re almost there!”
Sherlock was only a few steps from the top. He was almost there.
He grabbed the banister, and attempted to pull himself to his feet, but his hands slipped and he fell. He let out an agonized cry, and grabbed onto the banister again. He began to haul himself up the steps again. Just the few pulls it took him to reach the top seemed to be endless. Each pull resulted in an explosion of pain and he grunted, grimaced, screamed, and cried out with each pull.
But he made it to the top.
His eyes opened to surgeons in an operating theatre.
4165 words! That is the most that have ever been in a single chapter, I believe! Wow. I've been writing this chapter for about four hours, so I hope you all enjoy! Also, I must say that a LOT of the dialogue in this chapter belongs to Moftiss, not me. If only I were a writing genius like them. *sigh* >.<
I apologize for the long wait! I've been busy and haven't had much free time to just sit down and write. Updates for 'The Machine', 'Rosalie', 'Dear Me Mister Holmes', and 'Adler and Hooper' should all be out in the next few days. I'm doing my best! Thank you all for being patient!
The sequel will just be written in here. I may change the names of some chapters, because I like the idea of it being set into Acts, like in some books. I don't know about that yet though.
Thank you all for staying with me so far into this story! I love you all more then life, and i love writing for you all. It's so much fun and I really appreciate you all! xxx
–OH