John's car was a beat-up old thing, but it ran well enough. The blogger took on the task of driving, while I settled into the passenger seat. He put in a CD by someone named Beyonce (which I found perfectly absurd, since that's such an uncommon name) and we began our journey.
It was strange to see the whole of London pass by us in a blur as we drove. The only attention I'd ever paid to the city had been forced by those bloody words that had a habit of popping into vision, deducing things for me. The ride was quiet, uneventful. I reviewed the events of the day multiple times, considering the other outcomes that could have surfaced had Lilly reacted differently to my sudden outburst.
Before I knew it, we were pulling up to the Sussex Heritage Park. I couldn't deny that the views were reasonably nice to look at, as the park was on the Southern coast of England. Even on a cloudy day, the grass was a brilliant green, stretching across the park and to the Southern cliffs that rose high and mighty over the ocean.
Two figures, miniscule due to their distance, stood just beside one of these cliffs, staring out into the waves. The rest of the park was empty.
"That's them, then?" I hadn't realized it, but John had exited the car to join me.
"Must be."
He looked at me, sea winds throwing his hair about, despite its short length. "You know, Sherlock, this could be it."
"'It?'"
The blogger rolled his eyes. "You know. The end of the case."
"You really believe Moriarty has this right?"
"It's the only lead we've got now that Lilly's been figured out."
I peeled away from his brown eyes, focusing back out on the ocean. I didn't want to believe that Moriarty was correct and I was, well, not. "I suppose we should go find out, then."
A sense of finality washed over me as John took hold of my hand and we walked towards Moriarty and Loraine. Something was ending here, that was for sure. No matter how much I wanted my way, if Moriarty was correct... That was it. There was no possible way to change that this late in the game.
Jim turned around to meet us as soon as John and I were within five feet. "Boys! Hello! How was the drive?"
John nodded. "It wen-"
"John, I don't actually care," Moriarty said, putting his hand up to silence the blonde. "Anyways, you both remember Loraine?"
Upon hearing her name, Loraine unfastened her gaze from the endless stretch of water and turned to John and I. "Hello again."
She seemed different this time. Less confident. Her pupils were dilated, her eyes were wide, her mouth was clenched- anyone with half a brain could see how frightened she was.
I rolled my eyes. "Yes. Right. Hi. Formality, formality, formality. Jim, I don't like spending my leisure time anywhere around you, so if we could speed all of this up, that'd be just grand."
Moriarty's eyebrows shot towards the cloudy sky above us in surprise. "Now, now, Sherlock! You spent so long working on this case that I figured you had no great desire for speed." He spoke in entirely annoying purrs, as though he was fully convinced that part of him was actually a cat. "You can't just spring this on me."
I put a hand up. "Stop talking, you're unbearable. Loraine." She looked to me as though she thought no one had been able to see her. "What's your story?"
She cleared her throat. "I never liked Molly Hooper. She was annoying. Whenever she came into the Attendant, she would order the most difficult things. It slowed us all down, killed our processes. Almost every day, too!"
John furrowed his brow. "That's an awful reason to murder someone."
Loraine sighed, eyes welling with tears. "I know, I know! I was just... I just couldn't take it anymore! I was so close to losing my job because of her stupid orders!"
"Scene of the crime," I said before she could become any more emotional. "'Terrific catch, don't you think?' What does that mean?"
She shrugged, sniffling as the first of many tears fell. "I don't know! I was just so tired of her, and I snapped. I was violent, I was cruel, I was awful and I'm sorry!"
"Oh my god." John's voice was hardly audible over the wind. "You're actually confessing."
She was bawling now. "I'm sorry I killed her! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"
Moriarty placed a hand on Loraine's shoulder. "There, there. I'm sure you'll do just fine in prison."
This sent a new shudder of sobs through the woman. "I don't want to go to prison!"
I was still setting the pieces together in my mind. If Loraine had murdered Molly, there was no way she was after John. There was no relation between his accident, his little 'fan' on his blog, and Molly's death. They were all separate things. If Moriarty was correct, then John was safe.
"You don't seem like a murderer," I said, my voice as low as John's.
Moriarty fixed a gaze on me that was even colder than usual. "She's just admitted it, Sherlock. I know you hate for other people to be correct, but really, learn to accept defeat. Your remaining hope that you can actually manage to solve a case like this is pathetic."
John's eyes turned to slivers as he glared at Moriarty. "It isn't pathetic."
"Yes, John, it is. As are you." Jim smiled widely, victorious. "Who would have believed that the great Sherlock Holmes and his sidekick weren't nearly as smart as they thought? Oh, that's right. Everyone. Sherlock, I dare say that you're looking more and more like a fake every single day."
"A fake? What is it that you think I'm faking?"
Moriarty laughed. "Your intelligence, of course. You couldn't solve a case that a regular guy like me could. It isn't that you're surrounded by basic things, Sherlock, it's just that your mind isn't complex enough to process them."
I ignored the bite of his words and turned towards Loraine. "You say you hate Molly simply because of her ordering habits- which, of course, is the worst reasoning I've ever heard. Are you sure there isn't any other reason?"
Loraine wiped her eyes, which did little good, since the tears continued to come. "She was just- I don't know, it's awful, but she was just so annoying! Always happy and bright and smiling. Whenever she walked into a room, she stood out so much that everyone else- that I shrunk against her!"
I raised an eyebrow. "Though your reasoning is terribly poor, a confession is a confession. John, could you please call the police?"
A new wave of sobs washed over her. "I don't want to go to prison!"
"You probably should have considered that before you killed a girl," John said, simultaneously pulling his phone from his pocket and dialing 999 for the second time that day.
As soon as she noticed John dialing, Loraine was off. She ran towards the cliff at the edge of the park with Moriarty and I trailing close behind. Just inches from the edge she turned around, facing us.
She was making no effort whatsoever to stop the tears from streaming down her face. "This is what you want, isn't it? For this whole thing to be over. For me to be gone and for Molly to be gone and for this to be over. That's all it takes, isn't it?"
"Loraine." My voice was far firmer than I'd expected it to be. Suicide had always frightened me, and yet, I was calm. "This isn't the type of gone we want you to be."
"Well, Sherlock Holmes," she said, voice cracking, "you can't always get what you want."
As soon as the simple, final words had escaped her lips, she was flying, back-first down towards the rocky beaches below. Gone, no doubt.
John hurried up to us, phone in hand. "Oh god."
I sighed and ran a hand through my curls, which were being tossed every which way by the sea breeze. "This may have become slightly more complicated."
Moriarty simply shrugged. "She was our murderer, and now she's no longer our problem. The case is solved, and the cops are on their way anyway- they'll just have to deal with a suicide instead of a murderer."
"Moriarty," John said, vocal tones warning him to watch his mouth, "a woman has just died here. You watched it with your own eyes! She wasn't just a case- she was a person! Doesn't that mean anything to you?"
Jim peered over the cliff to view something I had no interest in seeing. "There are many people out there, and she was a bad one. People get what they deserve, John." He beamed, but the smile didn't even come close to reaching his eyes. "Right now, I think I deserve a nice cup of coffee. I did solve this case, after all."
I had no energy to fight the ridiculous boy. Despite the successful case solution, my spirit was broken. Moriarty had outsmarted me, and though we'd won this 'together,' I couldn't help but feel like a complete loser.
As though summoned by the silence between the three of us, the wailing of sirens cried through the air, fighting against the roar of the wind. An officer leapt out of one of many police cars and raced towards us like there was no tomorrow. (There was, obviously. A suicide and a murder don't quite cause the apocalypse.)
The officer wasn't anywhere near short of breath when he approached the three of us. Well trained. "You three called?"
Moriarty's fake smile crept upon his face once more. (God, I was tired of that smile. Was he even capable of showing any other emotions?) "Actually, only one of us called." Dumb, smooth, Irish accent. "There's been a suicide. Also a murder. Actually, a suicide of a murderer. Long story."
The officer looked at each of us in turn, obviously confused. "Yeah? Well, you'll have to explain all this to the boys at the station."
"I can take care of that," Jim said before shooting John and I a boastful look. "After all, I am the one who figured it all out."
The well-built man nodded as two of his fellow policeman ran to catch up to him. "Alright. Cuff him, boys."
Moriarty happily held his wrists out to the men. "I've always loved handcuffs, you know."
With an eye roll from me and a grimace from John, Moriarty was led away by two of the men, leaving the original officer standing before us. "You boys may be called in later, depending on how much information your friend can give us."
I shook my head. "First of all, he isn't our friend. Second, my brother is Mycroft Holmes."
"Who?"
"Ask any person of high authority about him and pray you aren't shot for having any idea of his power." I turned to my blogging boyfriend. "John, let's go home. I'm tired of living and I want to sleep."
Leaving the man standing in shock, John and I sauntered across the grass towards the car. Once inside, I quickly fastened my seatbelt and slouched against the window, sighing heavily.
John started the car and began driving. "Sherlock, I'm afraid I've found one of your flaws." I sat in grumpy silence, waiting for further explanation, until John turned away from the road to look at me for a moment. "You're a very sore loser."
I turned towards the window, watching the park roll by in a mass of green and gray. "Am not."
He laughed quietly, gently. Not quite laughing at me. Not a laugh meant to insult. Just a little.... Giggle.
The blond waited a solid five minutes before speaking again. "So that's it, then? That's the case? It's a wrap?"
"Yes, John. It's over and we were wrong."
"Sherlock, it isn't about who figured it out in the end. It's not about the competition. It's about finding closure: now we know who killed Molly Hooper, and we'll never have to wonder again! She can rest in peace now that her murderer is out of the picture- maybe not in the way we imagined, but..." he shrugged. "Bottom line is, Loraine won't be anyone's problem anymore."
"Obviously. But I just don't see it! She doesn't- she doesn't fit, John. The game was on, and Moriarty turned it right off. He stole the game from right under our feet! How did he even do that?"
John sighed. "The guy's an asshole, yeah, but he's one who took care of this mess for us. Don't see it as someone stealing the glory, see it as someone taking care of a problem we had. He practically did us a favor!"
I groaned and slouched further in my seat. "I guess," I muttered.
He laughed quietly once more. "Now there's that good attitude I know so well."
I'm not proud about how quickly I leapt out of John's car upon arriving home. It wasn't because of John, obviously, it was just the fact that the day had been so long and, as he had mentioned, I was a sore loser. There. I said it.
As John drove away, my phone buzzed with a call. If it was Moriarty, I swore I was going to rip the cocky mother-
Mycroft's number flashed across the screen. Why would he voluntarily speak to me? I quickly swiped to answer and placed the phone against my ear.
"Mycroft? What do you want?"
"Dear brother, you didn't really believe that was the end of it- did you?"