Fanfiction: Don't be dead (10/11)
Title: Don't be dead (10/11)
Length: 1759 words
Rating: PG 13
Warnings: none
Pairing: mild Sherlock/John, but can be read as friendship
Summary: Post "The Reichenbach Fall". John struggles with his life after Sherlocks 'death' and Sherlock wants his life back. But before they must face a new enemy.
Beta fififolle is just the best <3
All chapters: http://anyrei.livejournal.com/tag/don%27t%20be%20dead
Chapter 10: Prepared to burn
I have a present for you, brother. John Watson. I will bring him to the meeting. Tomorrow. 51.572485,0.875901. 10 pm.
William smiled. What a very attentive gift. Even though he now knew that his brother was still alive, William hadn't given up his plans to kill John Watson himself. Not only because of revenge, that Sherlock Holmes made him suffer through the belief that his brother killed himself, but also to close that tiresome chapter of the consulting detective who nearly ruined his family.
"I will practice his revenge on those trying since to destroy my brothers, and punish them with wrath, that they should know that I am the LORD, when I practice revenge on them," he murmured, grinning, as he read the message from his brother again.
William took his phone and tapped the GPS coordinates his brother had sent him into it. Essex. Seafront. Dramatic as ever. William shook his head. He pressed the answer button on the mail and began to write.
Behold, I will stretch out my hand against the Philistines, and cut off the Cherethites and destroy the remnant on the sea shore, and I will execute great vengeance on them and punish them with wrath, that they should know, I am the LORD, when I shall lay my vengeance on them.
William pressed "send" and sat back, satisfied. Jim couldn't have picked a better place. A quiet place for an enjoyable, uninterrupted revenge.
~ ~
"He will come." Sherlock slowly turned to John, who had fallen asleep on the sofa and was startled by Sherlock's sudden words.
"Hhhmmm? Who? "
"William Moriarty. He has agreed to a meeting tomorrow evening."
John nodded curtly. "Oh, good. Well..."
John watched Sherlock's pale face that was illuminated only by the laptop screen. Sherlock's gaze was strangely empty, and John was worried. He stood up from the couch awkwardly and went to him.
"Are you all right?"
Sherlock looked at John irritated. "Why shouldn't I be?"
"I don't know?"
Sherlock looked back at the screen without doing anything. John sighed and put his hand on Sherlock's shoulder.
"So, would you tell me your plan? And don't dare omit something or exclude me somehow. Not this time, Sherlock."
Sherlock stood up and looked at him. John's hand slowly slipped from his shoulder. They were standing very close together, and John felt himself tense up. He always did that when Sherlock invaded his personal space.
"It's dangerous."
"And here I am," John said, grinning.
He remembered their first case, when Sherlock had warned him about the dangers of his work, and Sherlock was again infected by John's grin and went to the sofa, where he let himself heavily fall into it.
"All right. That's the plan: The meeting is at an old factory site in Essex. We go out there tomorrow - together. I told William that I will bring you as my prisoner."
"Okay ... But the disguise won't last long. Once he sees you ..."
John sat down on the table in front of the sofa. Sherlock nodded.
"It doesn't have to last long. We'll just have to lure him out there and end it then."
John ran his hands over his face and pursed his lips.
"He still wants to kill you, John. I've got it in black and white from him in his response to my e-mail. No court will be able to hold him. I want you to be safe. I want our life back. We only get it back when he's gone. "
"How'd you know that?"
Sherlock answered with a questioning Do-you-really-have-to-ask-look. "Are you free tomorrow?"
"No, but I can take time off."
"Good."
"Do I have to go home now because of the sureveillance on me? Not to make Mycroft suspicious."
"Do you want to go home?"
John looked at his hands, which he had folded in his lap. "No."
Sherlock smiled slightly. "Then stay here."
"But Mycroft..."
Sherlock grinned. "Forget Mycroft. Let's go out and eat something."
"You want to eat something?”
"No, but you would have forced me anyway and I also can see that you're hungry."
John grinned and pulled Sherlock from the sofa. "Anything good in the neighbourhood?”
"Yes, around the corner 'Bacchus Pub and Kitchen'. And no surveillance cameras on the streets."
"Well then." John grinned, and only then noticed that Sherlock hadn't released his hand, yet.
~ ~
The next night, the ride to Essex was long and silent. John glanced a few times at Sherlock, but turned away quickly, when he looked back at him. John felt very calm, but he noticed that Sherlock was quite tense.
"If I didn't know better I would think you're worried," John said after a while.
Sherlock grimaced. He was angry that he couldn't control his feelings and that he was showing them so openly. He couldn't afford this weakness now. What was wrong with him? Why was he worried? One look to John was enough for him to answer his own question.
John sat quietly in the passenger seat. He wore the black clothes that Sherlock had bought him and his gun under his shirt. Around his neck were his dog tags. John Watson went to war with him, and Sherlock knew that his friend would protect him with his life. That was exactly the point. Sherlock couldn't bear if anything happened to John.
Last night, John had spent the night at Sherlock's place. They had talked late into the night and discussed details of the plan, but also talked about some trivial things. Sherlock had felt an inner calmness and satisfaction in him, which he felt only rarely. Usually it was a short-lived feeling after solving of a difficult case. But since their forced separation by his feigned death, something had changed in Sherlock. It had become clear to him that he had missed John. Previously there wasn't a problem when John was going out or vanishing to his girlfriend's for a few days. He knew that he would always come back. But during the time when he was forced to be apart from him, he had realised how much he appreciated John's presence and also needed it. If something happened to John and he lost him... Sherlock couldn't keep thinking about that. He gazed at John again, who was still looking at him expecting an answer.
"John, when we're there, please don't take unnecessary risks. When the going gets tough, please go somewhere and take cover. "
"Are you worried about me?" John asked incredulously. "I thought that would be my job. After all, you're the one who always takes unnecessary risks."
Sherlock gazed at John briefly and then looked intently at the street again.
"You are a soldier and a physician. This career choice says everything about your personality. Other people are more important to you than yourself. You would protect others, even if it cost your life. "
And I always will. Because your life is more valuable than mine.
"So?"
"Maybe you sometimes forget that other people need you alive."
John silently looked at him. "Other people?" he finally muttered quietly.
Sherlock looked stolidly to the road and said nothing. He knew that John would understand that he had meant himself. That he needed him. But he wouldn't do John the favour of saying it out loud. For Sherlock's taste, he had already expressed far too much sentimentality.
Half an hour later, he broke his silence.
"We're here."
~ ~
Sherlock had put on a hooded sweater and pulled the hood down over his face. He and John waited in the middle of the abandoned factory site. To the untrained eye, it looked as if the two of them were standing vulnerably out there in the open, but John knew better. The place was perfect. The factory was only a few metres behind them, and the door was ajar. Huge boxes and containers were standing to their left and right, where they could quickly find protection. And they also had another ace up their sleeve.
John kneeled in front of Sherlock on the ground so that it looked like he was Sherlock's prisoner. His hands were covered with a sack. He held his gun firmly in his hand.
It didn't take long for William to show up. He walked with slow steps on the factory forecourt. Sherlock was standing sideways to him, so that William couldn't see his face.
"Dramatic as always, my dear brother."
John shuddered as he heard the voice of William. The resemblance between the two brothers was amazing. Although William was a few years older and already had gray strands of hair, he had the same piercing eyes as Jim Moriarty.
"So dramatic that he actually shot himself in the head in front of me."
Sherlock slowly turned to William Moriarty. John would have expected any other reaction. Shock, anger, but not this. William remained totally calm. Only his eyes narrowed and then he pulled his gun to aim at Sherlock. At the same moment John had also raised and aimed at William.
"How fitting that I brought the snipers my brother hired to complete their work."
Sherlock nodded carelessly. "I would have been disappointed if it weren't so."
"Usually I enjoy sweet revenge a little longer. But let's do it quickly today."
William made a sign with his hand and grinned. When nothing happened, he looked around, confused.
"I've taken the liberty to pull your snipers out of the game after they moved into position."
"What? How?" Williams features twisted into an ugly face.
"Jim Moriarty isn't the only one with a resentful brother."
It all happened so quickly that Sherlock couldn't react. Without hesitation or warning, William Moriarty shot at Sherlock, who was pushed aside by John. Another shot was fired and William Moriarty disappeared from sight. Sherlock heard John fall to the ground with a pained gasp. Sherlock tried to stand up again and within seconds he was surrounded by men dressed in black, who helped him to his feet. Sherlock pulled away and saw William Moriarty lying dead on the ground. He turned, looking to John. John was on the ground. There was blood on the ground beside him. Too much blood. Mycroft was kneeling down beside him and placing his hands on a wound on John's chest. Sherlock let himself fall to the ground beside them, the shot still ringing loud in his ears. Mycroft said something. But Sherlock didn't hear it. Everything was so horribly quiet.
Length: 1759 words
Rating: PG 13
Warnings: none
Pairing: mild Sherlock/John, but can be read as friendship
Summary: Post "The Reichenbach Fall". John struggles with his life after Sherlocks 'death' and Sherlock wants his life back. But before they must face a new enemy.
Beta fififolle is just the best <3
All chapters: http://anyrei.livejournal.com/tag/don%27t%20be%20dead
Chapter 10: Prepared to burn
I have a present for you, brother. John Watson. I will bring him to the meeting. Tomorrow. 51.572485,0.875901. 10 pm.
William smiled. What a very attentive gift. Even though he now knew that his brother was still alive, William hadn't given up his plans to kill John Watson himself. Not only because of revenge, that Sherlock Holmes made him suffer through the belief that his brother killed himself, but also to close that tiresome chapter of the consulting detective who nearly ruined his family.
"I will practice his revenge on those trying since to destroy my brothers, and punish them with wrath, that they should know that I am the LORD, when I practice revenge on them," he murmured, grinning, as he read the message from his brother again.
William took his phone and tapped the GPS coordinates his brother had sent him into it. Essex. Seafront. Dramatic as ever. William shook his head. He pressed the answer button on the mail and began to write.
Behold, I will stretch out my hand against the Philistines, and cut off the Cherethites and destroy the remnant on the sea shore, and I will execute great vengeance on them and punish them with wrath, that they should know, I am the LORD, when I shall lay my vengeance on them.
William pressed "send" and sat back, satisfied. Jim couldn't have picked a better place. A quiet place for an enjoyable, uninterrupted revenge.
~ ~
"He will come." Sherlock slowly turned to John, who had fallen asleep on the sofa and was startled by Sherlock's sudden words.
"Hhhmmm? Who? "
"William Moriarty. He has agreed to a meeting tomorrow evening."
John nodded curtly. "Oh, good. Well..."
John watched Sherlock's pale face that was illuminated only by the laptop screen. Sherlock's gaze was strangely empty, and John was worried. He stood up from the couch awkwardly and went to him.
"Are you all right?"
Sherlock looked at John irritated. "Why shouldn't I be?"
"I don't know?"
Sherlock looked back at the screen without doing anything. John sighed and put his hand on Sherlock's shoulder.
"So, would you tell me your plan? And don't dare omit something or exclude me somehow. Not this time, Sherlock."
Sherlock stood up and looked at him. John's hand slowly slipped from his shoulder. They were standing very close together, and John felt himself tense up. He always did that when Sherlock invaded his personal space.
"It's dangerous."
"And here I am," John said, grinning.
He remembered their first case, when Sherlock had warned him about the dangers of his work, and Sherlock was again infected by John's grin and went to the sofa, where he let himself heavily fall into it.
"All right. That's the plan: The meeting is at an old factory site in Essex. We go out there tomorrow - together. I told William that I will bring you as my prisoner."
"Okay ... But the disguise won't last long. Once he sees you ..."
John sat down on the table in front of the sofa. Sherlock nodded.
"It doesn't have to last long. We'll just have to lure him out there and end it then."
John ran his hands over his face and pursed his lips.
"He still wants to kill you, John. I've got it in black and white from him in his response to my e-mail. No court will be able to hold him. I want you to be safe. I want our life back. We only get it back when he's gone. "
"How'd you know that?"
Sherlock answered with a questioning Do-you-really-have-to-ask-look. "Are you free tomorrow?"
"No, but I can take time off."
"Good."
"Do I have to go home now because of the sureveillance on me? Not to make Mycroft suspicious."
"Do you want to go home?"
John looked at his hands, which he had folded in his lap. "No."
Sherlock smiled slightly. "Then stay here."
"But Mycroft..."
Sherlock grinned. "Forget Mycroft. Let's go out and eat something."
"You want to eat something?”
"No, but you would have forced me anyway and I also can see that you're hungry."
John grinned and pulled Sherlock from the sofa. "Anything good in the neighbourhood?”
"Yes, around the corner 'Bacchus Pub and Kitchen'. And no surveillance cameras on the streets."
"Well then." John grinned, and only then noticed that Sherlock hadn't released his hand, yet.
~ ~
The next night, the ride to Essex was long and silent. John glanced a few times at Sherlock, but turned away quickly, when he looked back at him. John felt very calm, but he noticed that Sherlock was quite tense.
"If I didn't know better I would think you're worried," John said after a while.
Sherlock grimaced. He was angry that he couldn't control his feelings and that he was showing them so openly. He couldn't afford this weakness now. What was wrong with him? Why was he worried? One look to John was enough for him to answer his own question.
John sat quietly in the passenger seat. He wore the black clothes that Sherlock had bought him and his gun under his shirt. Around his neck were his dog tags. John Watson went to war with him, and Sherlock knew that his friend would protect him with his life. That was exactly the point. Sherlock couldn't bear if anything happened to John.
Last night, John had spent the night at Sherlock's place. They had talked late into the night and discussed details of the plan, but also talked about some trivial things. Sherlock had felt an inner calmness and satisfaction in him, which he felt only rarely. Usually it was a short-lived feeling after solving of a difficult case. But since their forced separation by his feigned death, something had changed in Sherlock. It had become clear to him that he had missed John. Previously there wasn't a problem when John was going out or vanishing to his girlfriend's for a few days. He knew that he would always come back. But during the time when he was forced to be apart from him, he had realised how much he appreciated John's presence and also needed it. If something happened to John and he lost him... Sherlock couldn't keep thinking about that. He gazed at John again, who was still looking at him expecting an answer.
"John, when we're there, please don't take unnecessary risks. When the going gets tough, please go somewhere and take cover. "
"Are you worried about me?" John asked incredulously. "I thought that would be my job. After all, you're the one who always takes unnecessary risks."
Sherlock gazed at John briefly and then looked intently at the street again.
"You are a soldier and a physician. This career choice says everything about your personality. Other people are more important to you than yourself. You would protect others, even if it cost your life. "
And I always will. Because your life is more valuable than mine.
"So?"
"Maybe you sometimes forget that other people need you alive."
John silently looked at him. "Other people?" he finally muttered quietly.
Sherlock looked stolidly to the road and said nothing. He knew that John would understand that he had meant himself. That he needed him. But he wouldn't do John the favour of saying it out loud. For Sherlock's taste, he had already expressed far too much sentimentality.
Half an hour later, he broke his silence.
"We're here."
~ ~
Sherlock had put on a hooded sweater and pulled the hood down over his face. He and John waited in the middle of the abandoned factory site. To the untrained eye, it looked as if the two of them were standing vulnerably out there in the open, but John knew better. The place was perfect. The factory was only a few metres behind them, and the door was ajar. Huge boxes and containers were standing to their left and right, where they could quickly find protection. And they also had another ace up their sleeve.
John kneeled in front of Sherlock on the ground so that it looked like he was Sherlock's prisoner. His hands were covered with a sack. He held his gun firmly in his hand.
It didn't take long for William to show up. He walked with slow steps on the factory forecourt. Sherlock was standing sideways to him, so that William couldn't see his face.
"Dramatic as always, my dear brother."
John shuddered as he heard the voice of William. The resemblance between the two brothers was amazing. Although William was a few years older and already had gray strands of hair, he had the same piercing eyes as Jim Moriarty.
"So dramatic that he actually shot himself in the head in front of me."
Sherlock slowly turned to William Moriarty. John would have expected any other reaction. Shock, anger, but not this. William remained totally calm. Only his eyes narrowed and then he pulled his gun to aim at Sherlock. At the same moment John had also raised and aimed at William.
"How fitting that I brought the snipers my brother hired to complete their work."
Sherlock nodded carelessly. "I would have been disappointed if it weren't so."
"Usually I enjoy sweet revenge a little longer. But let's do it quickly today."
William made a sign with his hand and grinned. When nothing happened, he looked around, confused.
"I've taken the liberty to pull your snipers out of the game after they moved into position."
"What? How?" Williams features twisted into an ugly face.
"Jim Moriarty isn't the only one with a resentful brother."
It all happened so quickly that Sherlock couldn't react. Without hesitation or warning, William Moriarty shot at Sherlock, who was pushed aside by John. Another shot was fired and William Moriarty disappeared from sight. Sherlock heard John fall to the ground with a pained gasp. Sherlock tried to stand up again and within seconds he was surrounded by men dressed in black, who helped him to his feet. Sherlock pulled away and saw William Moriarty lying dead on the ground. He turned, looking to John. John was on the ground. There was blood on the ground beside him. Too much blood. Mycroft was kneeling down beside him and placing his hands on a wound on John's chest. Sherlock let himself fall to the ground beside them, the shot still ringing loud in his ears. Mycroft said something. But Sherlock didn't hear it. Everything was so horribly quiet.