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The fire was extinguished, the people of London are united. But why is there still sorrow and fear? As the people celebrated a bright light erupted in the sky making the people below cover their eyes. The light faded and the people looked towards where it came from, the broken Tower Bridge, seeing The Lord of Crime and Detective Sherlock facing each other at gunpoint. The people stared and watched at the scene before them. Someone broke the silence by yelling curses at Moriarty. The entire crowd became a sea of incoherent curses, screaming, crying and yelling. Moriarty simply took a side eyed glance at the people far below him, he may not hear their words but he can feel their pain. Meaning his plan worked, he smiled and returned his gaze to the detective of the story he constructed all these years.
Sherlock looked into Moriarty’s scarlet eyes, searching for his friend he loved and thought he knew so well. All he could find was the sly smile of a murderer. Guns aimed at each other's heads, ready to fire at any moment as the people of London watched and waited for Moriarty’s end, screaming out curses only for it to be muffled by the wind. Sherlock looked and knew how close Moriarty was to the edge of the broken bridge and knew his options. Either he killed his friend or Moriarty would simply kill himself, throwing himself off the edge. Death was the only option Moriarty saw for himself and the future of London, maybe even the entire world. Finally William spoke up, “You finally trapped me into a corner, Mr Holmes.”
William lowered his gun and tossed it to the side, slowly walking towards Sherlock, never breaking eye contact. He stopped when his forehead was pressed against Sherlock’s still raised gun. “Take the shot Holmes, and everything will be over. You will be a hero and I will be displeased by the eyes of society. Just as the story should be played, is it not?” William said in a calm, unwavering voice. Moriarty watched as his friend’s face distorted with fear, sadness and anger from his words. Sherlock opened and closed his mouth like a fish, trying to get the words swimming in his head out. A small, sweet but sad smile painted the second oldest Moriarty son’s face, “Is this not what you want? You wanted to catch me and here I am at your mercy.” With that question the tsunami of words flooding Sherlock’s brain went away and he dropped his gun, grabbing onto William’s shoulders while shaking him violently.
The flood in his brain may have ceased but the one in his eyes had only just begun. He stopped shaking his friend, placing his head on his shoulder while still holding onto his arms. “Why would I ever want this? Even if you have done sinful things beyond God's comprehension, I would never ever want to lose you…” He spoke, voice cracking while he started crying.
Moriarty stood in shock not realizing the flooding in his eyes as well, as he watched The Great Detective Sherlock Holmes crying like a baby in his arms. “I do not want to lose you either my friend,” He said as he placed a hand on Sherlock’s back while stroking his hair with the other. “But I refuse to drag you into my sins and my inevitable punishment.”
Holmes opened his eyes in shock at his words and the way he let go of him. He stared wide eyed as William picked up Sherlock’s gun and walked back towards the edge of the bridge. Moriarty cocked the gun and pointed it at his own head. “I shall not make you feel the pain and suffering of executing my punishment for me, goodbye, Sherlock Holmes.” I can’t move. I can’t breathe. My eyes sting. My heart hurts. My lungs hurt. Why does it hurt? These thoughts flooded Sherlock’s brain as he watched the bullet go through his friend’s head, blood shooting out of his head as the bullet went through his skull. Ending his life before everyone’s eyes, just as he planned.
William thought he perfectly calculated that his body would fall backwards off the bridge, into the water below in front of all of London, announcing his death. But his calculations were wrong for once, his body fell limply sideways, landing on the bridge below his feet. My ears are ringing. I can’t see. My body is moving on its own. It hurts to breathe, to move, anything. Sherlock’s mind was flooded with thoughts once again as his body collapsed and crawled towards his friend’s lifeless body. He took his body in his arms, moving the hair out of his face. Even in death, his face remains calm and peaceful. His body broke down as he weeped and screamed until his voice was no more and his tears ran dry. His body shut down and fell asleep, still holding his friend close.
The news of William James Moriarty’s death spread like wildfire. It was on every newspaper headline. Sherlock quit his job, with no explanation why. The other two Moriarty brothers went on with their lives, just like in William’s plan. They still mourned for his loss, even if they knew the plan all these years, they could still never forget him. The youngest, Louis, agreed to the plan with his mind but never his heart. The passing of his brother was known to everyone for many years before it even occurred, but one can never move on from such a thing. Though it was hard, the other 2 brothers and his friends who he considered family, who made the future of London possible together, must face the hard truth of a great loss.
As for Sherlock? To say the least he is a lost soul, wandering and searching for something long gone. Right now in the courtyard of the university William taught at. A blank expression covered his face, like a blank canvas left in an attic filled with dust. He walked towards the staff office and monotonously asked a staff member for the keys to William’s office. One of the professors was about to give him the key until another staff member interrupted. “Why do you want to go into the devil’s chambers, looking for death huh?” The staff member asked in a loud, mocking voice. The man laughed at his own joke as the female professor looked uncomfortable and upset.
Sherlock’s blood boiled until he finally snapped, he yelled at the man “The only death here will be your head on a stake if you don’t shut up asshole, so fuck off!” This scared the man into a frozen state seeing Sherlock’s face filled with nothing but rage. Holmes angrily but gently snatched the keys from the lady and stormed off to his destination. He didn’t realize how much his chest and eyes hurt until he unlocked and opened the office door.
Holmes instantly started breaking down crying. He never wanted to yell at the man nor scare the lady, he just gets so mad at himself everytime he is reminded of Liam. Even the smell of the tea he always drank makes his chest hurt. Everything in that office felt like William was right there. Imagining what he looks like while reading the many books scattered everywhere, asking him to read with him. What he looks like looking over his student’s papers while drinking his tea. It was so calming, yet so painful to imagine. Sherlock mindlessly walked over to Will’s old desk and sat in his chair, drifting off into what he wished was an endless dream. He dreamt of working alongside William to fight crime, instead of on opposing sides. Living the rest of his life with him by his side, instead of having lost a loved one’s life before his eyes.
The dream was so blissful and felt so real that he lost his vision of reality. But reality and fate are cruel yet so sweet as he is awoken just to never awake again, his eternal slumber. Blood spilled out of his chest as his vision became blurry, but he could make out the figure of the man from before. “Those who hang onto the devil shall die alongside him.” Was all that man said as Sherlock smiled and let death embrace him. As his vision blurred William appeared before him, offering his hand to the man he loved so dearly. Crying into his embrace as death took its toll on his body. Finally his day had come, the day he wished for since that day. His reunion with his friend, his forever visit with death and the end of Sherlock Holmes.
Word count: 1461