Reichenbach Falls- A Different Take- 9/10
Title: Reichenbach Falls- A Different Take (Part 3 Of A Different Take Series/Universe)
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters that are part of the BBCverse of Sherlock.
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Moriarty, Moran, DI Lestrade, Sally Donovan, Molly Hooper, Mrs Hudson with Mycroft Holmes appearance a couple times.
Genre: Suspense, Drama, Angst, General, Friendship, Humor (as much one can be with this story), Hurt/Comfort
Warnings: Death, Murder, Violence, Language, Threats
Spoilers: Reichenbach Falls is the title of the third episode/season finale (or episode 6) of Season 2.
Summary: It's February. John and Sherlock have known each other for a year now, their friendship strong, the bond that is between them is understood by them, but not by everyone else. Moriarty's plans for the two of them have been coming to fruition since January. Everyone they know, have helped and are close to them (as close one can get to Sherlock that is) are in danger.
Word Count: 2,207
Author's Note: Once again my less than fantastic ability to write in the moment, present day action scenes rears it's ugly head. I tried several times to write out what I was seeing in my head but I could not translate the scenes in my head to the written/typed word. So I simply wrote up to the point where I could, and then flashed ahead. All us writers have our unfortunate weaknesses. Mine is action sequences. Apologies to those who were hoping for an action sequence.
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Chapter 9
It Will Never End
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**************************
Date: February 10th, 2011
Time: 3:19 pm
Location: Aeroplane
**************************
John stands up, now that they are allowed to do so. At last. He and Sherlock end up letting the other few people in the front get their carry ons.
"Thank you for flying Swiss Air gentlemen," one of the flight attendants say with cheer as they pass her.
As they join the other passengers in departing, John gets the sense that Sherlock wants to ask him something. It's helped by the occasional side eye look. Sherlock has his own tells, it just takes living with him for a year for people to know them.
"Okay, you got questions."
Sherlock raises an eyebrow and John realizes Sherlock said the same thing to him the night they were in that taxi heading to Lauriston Gardens.
"Just one."
"Yeah?"
"Do you ever at times wish you never met me?"
John cocks his head to the side, stopping to let a few people behind them pass. He tugs Sherlock out of the way.
"Thinking about all the people that said they have?"
Sherlock shakes his head, his eyes not betraying anything that might be going on in that head of his.
"Only when you play the violin rather horribly at three in the morning. Other than that.. I am very glad that Stamford introduced me to you," John says honestly. "What about you? Do you ever regret meeting me?"
He thinks Sherlock does at times. He nags the consulting detective to eat, drink, to pay attention to societal norms, to try and watch what he says, he plays the role of moral compass and conscience to him. He constantly tries to steer Sherlock towards the path he was meant to be on. For someone like Sherlock, who's stubborn streak is miles long and has his own way of doing things, John imagines that he might.
"No."
**************************
Date: February 7th, 2011
Location: Inside St Barts
Time: 3:34 pm
**************************
"Don't you dare alert your people," Lestrade hears Moran's voice hiss, breaking her count. He was just about to yell at the others when she said that. "Or I will shoot early, I have her perfectly in my sights, same with your Sergeant Donovan. Are we clear?"
"Crystal," he grits out, and the assassin chuckles before resuming her count.
"Eighty two... eighty three...."
Lestrade feels the sweat coming down his temples, his heart beating. One of his Sergeants appear next to him, and Lestrade holds up a finger.
Warn Donovan! He mouths and makes a gesture for him to run on ahead.
"Eighty nine... ninety... ninety one... ninety two... Do you think they'll make it Lestrade?"
"I hope to God they do."
"That'll make things easier then."
Lestrade realizes then why she issued that challenge. She wants them outside.
Shite.
"One hundred and six...one hundred and seven.... one hundred and eight..."
**************************
Date: Febuary 7th, 2011
Location: Outside St Barts
Time: Almost 3:35
**************************
John doesn't apologize this time to the person Sherlock had pushed out of the way, he'll do it later. They get the to the doors this time and burst outside.
Just twenty feet away they see Molly, back to them. Donovan now speaking on her walkie.
They're both in danger.
Not saying anything both men race forward.
"Donovan!"
They race the last twenty feet, John's heart beating as hard as it once did when he was in battle zones.
**************************
Date: February 7th, 2011
Location: Inside St Barts
Time: 3:35 pm
**************************
Lestrade hears Donovan shout out the radio code for sniper on his walkie.
Curses in French and english spew out on his cell Lestrade ends the call, pockets his mobile, and starts running.
There's no doubt at all right now that the assassin was not going to leave without killing someone. Her cursing appears to be because Donovan was told in time, or Sherlock and John Watson got to them in time.
Maybe both.
As he enters the lobby, it's chaos as people are running inside.
The hell of it all is that he can't go outside, not with a furious sniper taking shots.
This is one of the few moments in his life that he wishes he was authorized to carry firearms. Especially with his people out there.
More people come rushing inside, and somehow among the yelling and chaos, Lestrade hears the voices of Sherlock, John Watson, and Donovan.
Hell with it.
He's going outside.
**************************
Date: February 7th, 2011
Location: Royal London Hospital
Time: Sometime before 7 pm
**************************
"You got some luck on your side, young man," a doctor tells Sherlock as he sits still.
"Luck had nothing to do with it," he says coldly.
"I think it does. Snipers don't miss," the doctor says firmly as he cleans the two graze marks. Shots from Moran that missed. Not by a bloody lot, but missed nonetheless. "You and your friend, Doctor Watson most assuredly had some luck on your side then.
Sherlock does not respond, simply waits for the doctor to finish tending to his arm. After a bandage on both are set, Sherlock is thankfully able to leave the room.
He goes out into the main waiting room, where several others are, and sits.
His mind does not stop from going over what happened earlier.
Three Yarders injured, their wounds currently being treated. Sgt Sally Donovan was, as far as he knew, still getting some nasty gashes taken care of. She did not get shot, but her arm and leg ended up wounded from shrapnel caused by bullets missing.
John and Lestrade both wound up getting grazed.
Two Sergeants were killed, unable to get properly back inside when the shots were going off.
Three civilians killed.
Molly Hooper ended up getting shot in the stomach.
Better than the heart and head.
She's alive, and currently being tended to.
All hell broke loose after that. Moran was obviously pissed that Lestrade was able to get word to Donovan (Lestrade told them later), plus that he and John got to the two of them.
She certainly tried her best to take them out. Sherlock lost count after nine shots.
John mentioned later that the only reason she missed after they prevented Molly's death was that Moran lost focus, and most likely became so enraged that she was not able to take proper shots after that.
"Sherlock."
Sherlock's attention moves away from what had taken place outside St Barts to see his brother, Mycroft standing in front of him. His assistant, the one that John calls Anthea, also standing just two feet away.
Her attention, like always, is on her blackberry.
"How long have you been here?"
"Just a few minutes now."
Sherlock nods.
"John?"
"He's fine. I'm sure your surveillance told you that."
He notices a tightening in Mycroft's jaw.
"You?"
"Why ask questions when you already know the answer?"
"I see that physically you are fine."
"My mental capabilities are still in tact, brother," Sherlock snaps, then notices John and Lestrade coming into the waiting room. He stands and strides towards them.
He ignores the presence of his brother.
"You all right?" Sherlock asks John. He can see it for himself, he just wants clarification from his colleague, his friend.
John nods. "My arm was grazed, thankfully. Same as you. Lestrade too."
"The press is all over this," Lestrade groans. "While I had my leg and arm tended to, I got a call from my DCI and just about everyone else. They're clamoring for answers."
**************************
Date: February 7th, 2011
Location: Undisclosed Location
Time: Same Time
**************************
Moriarty stares at the wall in front of him as his people are packing things up as if the Devil is on their heels. It's been non stop activity since he and Moran arrived.
She stopped shooting the moment more police arrived, this time the ones that have authorization to carry firearms. The two of them were quickly met by a car in the parking garage.
Right now he hears the sounds of vehicles being packed up, Moran barking orders, people running to and from. Vehicles driving off.
They don't have time to go after Harry Watson or the others.
Not after that spectacular failure.
Their plans are stalled, no longer viable. The others will most likely have protection units on them.
He turns away from the wall to stare at Moran. Two people lying dead next to her. She shot both of them earlier when they weren't moving fast enough.
His pet failed.
She knows it. It explains her foul attitude. Which is why all those currently hustling at the moment know they are target practice with her pistol if they don't react the way she wants them to.
He's disappointed.
Very disappointed.
He's tempted to kill her. To take that pistol in her hands and shoot her right in the temple. She'd let him do it too. Her loyalty is that absolute.
She's far too useful for him to kill having always been his best. Even with her screw ups, Moran is still his best.
She'll make it up to him.
Always does.
Moriarty walks over to his desk and picks up his mobile. Time to make another call.
"Five minutes, Boss," he hears her call out. "What did I tell you idiots? Get moving, stop slagging off! Try not to break anything dammit!" He hears switch to French as she curses someone else out.
A protest.
Then the sound of a gun going off, followed by that distinctive sound a body makes when they fall to the ground.
"I know."
**************************
Date: February 7th, 2011
Location: Royal London Hospital
Time: Just a few minutes later
**************************
"A press conference is being set up within the hour," Lestrade announces, looking quite ill at ease. Sherlock knows the man never likes them. "I have to get over there. First, I have to figure out what to bloody say."
One idea clearly forms. A way to head off Moriarty. "Tell them the truth."
John and Lestrade stare at him. "Pardon?"
"That a master criminal and his assassin was behind all of it. That they have been behind the deaths that have taken place the last few weeks. Give the press the physical descriptions of Moriarty and Moran. Their faces will be all over the news. Moriarty will have to go deeper to ground."
"That's..."
"A good idea," Mycroft irritatingly speaks up then. Lestrade notices Mycroft then. Unlike the last time these two were in the same room together, no questions are immeaditely asked. "My assistant can do better than that though. We can ensure you can have photographs to give to the press."
Lestrade looks relieved. "Well that will be a big help."
"Meanwhile, you can be escorted to your press conference," Mycroft adds.
While also be instructed on what to say and how to say it.
As Mycroft's assistant places her call to get the required photos, a ring echoes from his coat pocket. Sherlock takes his mobile out. Another blocked number.
Deciding to take it, just to see what Moriarty plans on saying now, he walks away, going back to where the majority of the seats are. He once more ignores his brother and his assistant who is now placing a call for a car.
"Sherlock Holmes."
"You may have won this battle, Sherlock Holmes, but the war is not over."
"I didn't think it was," Sherlock responds coolly, hearing background noise of shouts, things being moved about, engines of automobiles. "Retreating are you?"
"Even the best have to do so now and then. Gives me time to plan," Moriarty replies, his voice sounding thoughtful. "You intentionally called me a coward to anger me. To deviate from my schedule. You knew I would tell Moran to target the both of you."
Sherlock smiles. He wouldn't let himself think that earlier.
"You may have survived and won, Sherlock, but I will be back. Every battle we fight, whoever retreats it will not matter. I will always be back."
Sherlock's smile fades as he turns around, watching the bustle before him. His eyes on John. Watching John as he debates with Lestrade.
"I will never stop. I will continue to be the one that haunts your dreams. I will return, I promise you that. I'll kill everyone you know. I will burn your world down around you and John Watson. I'll kill them all," he hears Moriarty promise. "Including dear Mrs Hudson. I'll track down Detective Inspector Lestrade's parents and his sister, I'll kill Sgt Donovan's mother and her sister. I'll find a way to get to your mother and your brother. I'll kill John. No one is safe. You will burn, utterly burn as I take everything away from you."
Sherlock stays silent. Logically, it makes sense. He had issued the same threat earlier before Moran delivered her challenge.
"This will never end. This war between you and I. Many will suffer, London will burn and you will lose. Everything. Ciao, Sherlock Holmes."
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters that are part of the BBCverse of Sherlock.
Characters: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Moriarty, Moran, DI Lestrade, Sally Donovan, Molly Hooper, Mrs Hudson with Mycroft Holmes appearance a couple times.
Genre: Suspense, Drama, Angst, General, Friendship, Humor (as much one can be with this story), Hurt/Comfort
Warnings: Death, Murder, Violence, Language, Threats
Spoilers: Reichenbach Falls is the title of the third episode/season finale (or episode 6) of Season 2.
Summary: It's February. John and Sherlock have known each other for a year now, their friendship strong, the bond that is between them is understood by them, but not by everyone else. Moriarty's plans for the two of them have been coming to fruition since January. Everyone they know, have helped and are close to them (as close one can get to Sherlock that is) are in danger.
Word Count: 2,207
Author's Note: Once again my less than fantastic ability to write in the moment, present day action scenes rears it's ugly head. I tried several times to write out what I was seeing in my head but I could not translate the scenes in my head to the written/typed word. So I simply wrote up to the point where I could, and then flashed ahead. All us writers have our unfortunate weaknesses. Mine is action sequences. Apologies to those who were hoping for an action sequence.
**************************
Chapter 9
It Will Never End
**************************
**************************
Date: February 10th, 2011
Time: 3:19 pm
Location: Aeroplane
**************************
John stands up, now that they are allowed to do so. At last. He and Sherlock end up letting the other few people in the front get their carry ons.
"Thank you for flying Swiss Air gentlemen," one of the flight attendants say with cheer as they pass her.
As they join the other passengers in departing, John gets the sense that Sherlock wants to ask him something. It's helped by the occasional side eye look. Sherlock has his own tells, it just takes living with him for a year for people to know them.
"Okay, you got questions."
Sherlock raises an eyebrow and John realizes Sherlock said the same thing to him the night they were in that taxi heading to Lauriston Gardens.
"Just one."
"Yeah?"
"Do you ever at times wish you never met me?"
John cocks his head to the side, stopping to let a few people behind them pass. He tugs Sherlock out of the way.
"Thinking about all the people that said they have?"
Sherlock shakes his head, his eyes not betraying anything that might be going on in that head of his.
"Only when you play the violin rather horribly at three in the morning. Other than that.. I am very glad that Stamford introduced me to you," John says honestly. "What about you? Do you ever regret meeting me?"
He thinks Sherlock does at times. He nags the consulting detective to eat, drink, to pay attention to societal norms, to try and watch what he says, he plays the role of moral compass and conscience to him. He constantly tries to steer Sherlock towards the path he was meant to be on. For someone like Sherlock, who's stubborn streak is miles long and has his own way of doing things, John imagines that he might.
"No."
**************************
Date: February 7th, 2011
Location: Inside St Barts
Time: 3:34 pm
**************************
"Don't you dare alert your people," Lestrade hears Moran's voice hiss, breaking her count. He was just about to yell at the others when she said that. "Or I will shoot early, I have her perfectly in my sights, same with your Sergeant Donovan. Are we clear?"
"Crystal," he grits out, and the assassin chuckles before resuming her count.
"Eighty two... eighty three...."
Lestrade feels the sweat coming down his temples, his heart beating. One of his Sergeants appear next to him, and Lestrade holds up a finger.
Warn Donovan! He mouths and makes a gesture for him to run on ahead.
"Eighty nine... ninety... ninety one... ninety two... Do you think they'll make it Lestrade?"
"I hope to God they do."
"That'll make things easier then."
Lestrade realizes then why she issued that challenge. She wants them outside.
Shite.
"One hundred and six...one hundred and seven.... one hundred and eight..."
**************************
Date: Febuary 7th, 2011
Location: Outside St Barts
Time: Almost 3:35
**************************
John doesn't apologize this time to the person Sherlock had pushed out of the way, he'll do it later. They get the to the doors this time and burst outside.
Just twenty feet away they see Molly, back to them. Donovan now speaking on her walkie.
They're both in danger.
Not saying anything both men race forward.
"Donovan!"
They race the last twenty feet, John's heart beating as hard as it once did when he was in battle zones.
**************************
Date: February 7th, 2011
Location: Inside St Barts
Time: 3:35 pm
**************************
Lestrade hears Donovan shout out the radio code for sniper on his walkie.
Curses in French and english spew out on his cell Lestrade ends the call, pockets his mobile, and starts running.
There's no doubt at all right now that the assassin was not going to leave without killing someone. Her cursing appears to be because Donovan was told in time, or Sherlock and John Watson got to them in time.
Maybe both.
As he enters the lobby, it's chaos as people are running inside.
The hell of it all is that he can't go outside, not with a furious sniper taking shots.
This is one of the few moments in his life that he wishes he was authorized to carry firearms. Especially with his people out there.
More people come rushing inside, and somehow among the yelling and chaos, Lestrade hears the voices of Sherlock, John Watson, and Donovan.
Hell with it.
He's going outside.
**************************
Date: February 7th, 2011
Location: Royal London Hospital
Time: Sometime before 7 pm
**************************
"You got some luck on your side, young man," a doctor tells Sherlock as he sits still.
"Luck had nothing to do with it," he says coldly.
"I think it does. Snipers don't miss," the doctor says firmly as he cleans the two graze marks. Shots from Moran that missed. Not by a bloody lot, but missed nonetheless. "You and your friend, Doctor Watson most assuredly had some luck on your side then.
Sherlock does not respond, simply waits for the doctor to finish tending to his arm. After a bandage on both are set, Sherlock is thankfully able to leave the room.
He goes out into the main waiting room, where several others are, and sits.
His mind does not stop from going over what happened earlier.
Three Yarders injured, their wounds currently being treated. Sgt Sally Donovan was, as far as he knew, still getting some nasty gashes taken care of. She did not get shot, but her arm and leg ended up wounded from shrapnel caused by bullets missing.
John and Lestrade both wound up getting grazed.
Two Sergeants were killed, unable to get properly back inside when the shots were going off.
Three civilians killed.
Molly Hooper ended up getting shot in the stomach.
Better than the heart and head.
She's alive, and currently being tended to.
All hell broke loose after that. Moran was obviously pissed that Lestrade was able to get word to Donovan (Lestrade told them later), plus that he and John got to the two of them.
She certainly tried her best to take them out. Sherlock lost count after nine shots.
John mentioned later that the only reason she missed after they prevented Molly's death was that Moran lost focus, and most likely became so enraged that she was not able to take proper shots after that.
"Sherlock."
Sherlock's attention moves away from what had taken place outside St Barts to see his brother, Mycroft standing in front of him. His assistant, the one that John calls Anthea, also standing just two feet away.
Her attention, like always, is on her blackberry.
"How long have you been here?"
"Just a few minutes now."
Sherlock nods.
"John?"
"He's fine. I'm sure your surveillance told you that."
He notices a tightening in Mycroft's jaw.
"You?"
"Why ask questions when you already know the answer?"
"I see that physically you are fine."
"My mental capabilities are still in tact, brother," Sherlock snaps, then notices John and Lestrade coming into the waiting room. He stands and strides towards them.
He ignores the presence of his brother.
"You all right?" Sherlock asks John. He can see it for himself, he just wants clarification from his colleague, his friend.
John nods. "My arm was grazed, thankfully. Same as you. Lestrade too."
"The press is all over this," Lestrade groans. "While I had my leg and arm tended to, I got a call from my DCI and just about everyone else. They're clamoring for answers."
**************************
Date: February 7th, 2011
Location: Undisclosed Location
Time: Same Time
**************************
Moriarty stares at the wall in front of him as his people are packing things up as if the Devil is on their heels. It's been non stop activity since he and Moran arrived.
She stopped shooting the moment more police arrived, this time the ones that have authorization to carry firearms. The two of them were quickly met by a car in the parking garage.
Right now he hears the sounds of vehicles being packed up, Moran barking orders, people running to and from. Vehicles driving off.
They don't have time to go after Harry Watson or the others.
Not after that spectacular failure.
Their plans are stalled, no longer viable. The others will most likely have protection units on them.
He turns away from the wall to stare at Moran. Two people lying dead next to her. She shot both of them earlier when they weren't moving fast enough.
His pet failed.
She knows it. It explains her foul attitude. Which is why all those currently hustling at the moment know they are target practice with her pistol if they don't react the way she wants them to.
He's disappointed.
Very disappointed.
He's tempted to kill her. To take that pistol in her hands and shoot her right in the temple. She'd let him do it too. Her loyalty is that absolute.
She's far too useful for him to kill having always been his best. Even with her screw ups, Moran is still his best.
She'll make it up to him.
Always does.
Moriarty walks over to his desk and picks up his mobile. Time to make another call.
"Five minutes, Boss," he hears her call out. "What did I tell you idiots? Get moving, stop slagging off! Try not to break anything dammit!" He hears switch to French as she curses someone else out.
A protest.
Then the sound of a gun going off, followed by that distinctive sound a body makes when they fall to the ground.
"I know."
**************************
Date: February 7th, 2011
Location: Royal London Hospital
Time: Just a few minutes later
**************************
"A press conference is being set up within the hour," Lestrade announces, looking quite ill at ease. Sherlock knows the man never likes them. "I have to get over there. First, I have to figure out what to bloody say."
One idea clearly forms. A way to head off Moriarty. "Tell them the truth."
John and Lestrade stare at him. "Pardon?"
"That a master criminal and his assassin was behind all of it. That they have been behind the deaths that have taken place the last few weeks. Give the press the physical descriptions of Moriarty and Moran. Their faces will be all over the news. Moriarty will have to go deeper to ground."
"That's..."
"A good idea," Mycroft irritatingly speaks up then. Lestrade notices Mycroft then. Unlike the last time these two were in the same room together, no questions are immeaditely asked. "My assistant can do better than that though. We can ensure you can have photographs to give to the press."
Lestrade looks relieved. "Well that will be a big help."
"Meanwhile, you can be escorted to your press conference," Mycroft adds.
While also be instructed on what to say and how to say it.
As Mycroft's assistant places her call to get the required photos, a ring echoes from his coat pocket. Sherlock takes his mobile out. Another blocked number.
Deciding to take it, just to see what Moriarty plans on saying now, he walks away, going back to where the majority of the seats are. He once more ignores his brother and his assistant who is now placing a call for a car.
"Sherlock Holmes."
"You may have won this battle, Sherlock Holmes, but the war is not over."
"I didn't think it was," Sherlock responds coolly, hearing background noise of shouts, things being moved about, engines of automobiles. "Retreating are you?"
"Even the best have to do so now and then. Gives me time to plan," Moriarty replies, his voice sounding thoughtful. "You intentionally called me a coward to anger me. To deviate from my schedule. You knew I would tell Moran to target the both of you."
Sherlock smiles. He wouldn't let himself think that earlier.
"You may have survived and won, Sherlock, but I will be back. Every battle we fight, whoever retreats it will not matter. I will always be back."
Sherlock's smile fades as he turns around, watching the bustle before him. His eyes on John. Watching John as he debates with Lestrade.
"I will never stop. I will continue to be the one that haunts your dreams. I will return, I promise you that. I'll kill everyone you know. I will burn your world down around you and John Watson. I'll kill them all," he hears Moriarty promise. "Including dear Mrs Hudson. I'll track down Detective Inspector Lestrade's parents and his sister, I'll kill Sgt Donovan's mother and her sister. I'll find a way to get to your mother and your brother. I'll kill John. No one is safe. You will burn, utterly burn as I take everything away from you."
Sherlock stays silent. Logically, it makes sense. He had issued the same threat earlier before Moran delivered her challenge.
"This will never end. This war between you and I. Many will suffer, London will burn and you will lose. Everything. Ciao, Sherlock Holmes."