A.N: I had an idea and it wouldn't leave me alone. I really hope you like it. Enjoy x
"Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?"
Sherlock took out the gun and pointed it square between Jim's eyes. "Both."
John stared straight ahead of him, trying very hard not to panic. But Sherlock was here now and he would get them out.
Sherlock stared the enemy, observing the sadistic glee in his eyes that said he was loving this. John's eyes flicked to his friend, wondering why he wasn't doing anything. He was simply standing there, gun in hand and pointing straight at Jim. His eyes darted to John every couple of seconds.
Time stood still for about thirty seconds when suddenly, Sherlock lowered the weapon.
A million things ran through John's mind in that second but he simply widened his eyes as Sherlock nodded sharply. Jim nodded back, his eyes still bearing the psychotic gleam but, impossibly, he backed out of the door.
John focused his gaze on Sherlock, trying to read him as the brilliant detective had done so many times to him. Sherlock narrowed his eyes at him and when he spoke his voice was icy, "come now, John, you know you can't read people the way I can." Then, almost like an afterthought he said, "and get rid of the bomb, oh don't worry, it won't detonate." John gratefully removed the coat and vest but continued to silently watch as his flatmate slowly made his way over to him. He stopped when there was a metre between them.
He looked at John but there wasn't familiar warmth in his eyes. They were cold and unforgiving. John was getting worried now. What the hell was going on? Sherlock opened his mouth and continued lazily, "oh, no doubt you're wondering what I'm doing. What's going on." He tilted his head a bit in a condescending way, "unless you figured it out, no?" Sherlock smirked at John's disbelieving expression but when he continued again his voice was cool, "that man was not Moriarty, John. He is a nobody who wanted a bit of fun." The disbelief disappeared from John's face and was quickly replaced by horror. Sherlock smiled, in a smug way and even though John clearly understood he drawled, "I am Moriarty."
The way betrayal and hurt flashed in John's eyes only made him smile wider. John was looking at him as though he didn't want to believe it. "What's the matter, John? Are you shocked that the great Sherlock Holmes was the one behind those murders? Appalled that I lied to everyone?" He made no effort to hide his smugness as he added in a low voice "do you feel crushed to see your best friend isn't real? Just a mask used by a killer?" John shook his head, eyes squeezed shut, trying to make sense if it. "I'm not lying." Said the cold voice John wasn't used to. He looked at Sherlock again but this time he spoke. "But...but what about Lestrade? He said he knew you for- "Five years? Yes but not from the yard. He is one of my own men, very skilled at acting, too" Sherlock cut off, rolling his eyes. "Really, are you going to do this? There is no other explanation." The last part was harsh and he looked almost cruel as he spat "I am Moriarty, John. You can't explain it away, it is the truth."
John winced and took a step back but Sherlock, no Moriarty, just stepped forwards. That sadistic smile was back, " You can't get away from me. I know everything about you, you're so easy to read," he added mockingly, his eyes unnaturally bright. He kept going, "you loved him, didn't you? Don't lie to me, I know you did. Just a little bit."
John clenched his fists, anger beginning to rise. It was like somebody else was wearing Sherlock's face and saying these things, referring to Sherlock in the past tense as if he was dead. Maybe he was, the only remnant was the man in front of him who bore barely any resemblance to the brilliant man John thought he knew. Tears of anger and betrayal stung John's eyes but he refused to let them fall. Moriarty noticed, of course, and revelled in the fact that the man in front of him was starting to crack. "I told you once that I would do anything to keep from being bored," Moriarty smirked, "I don't think you realised just how far I was willing to go..." He paused there, seeing the effect his words were taking.
John was staring into the distance, the tiniest of tears trailing down his face. When he looked at Moriarty again his expression was so hurt that Moriarty couldn't help the twinge of emotion that rose at the sight of the man he had come quite close to. But he ignored it. John's voice was thick with emotion but still strong as he said quietly "I thought I knew you...thought you'd let me in and I was...that we were friends," he looked at Moriarty accusingly, "but now this and..." he trailed off, glaring at the man opposite. He wanted to punch him, but he couldn't bring himself to hurt the man he had thought was his best friend. Moriarty knew this and was taking advantage of it.
He scoffed, "sentiment. I told you it was a weakness but you didn't listen did you? Now look where its got you" Moriarty stepped closer and leaned in, his face a couple of inches from John's. He was narrowing his eyes to go with that awful new smirk of his, "You don't know what to do," he said softly, teasingly, "I can see the battle going on in your head. It's written all over your face. Turn me in to the police or leave me alone? Let your friend walk free or put the villain behind bars?" John's face became emotionless within a second and he shoved Moriarty away, "you're not my friend," he snapped.
Moriarty was mildly surprised. But then his face hardened and he stepped towards John again, the calm left his face as he looked at John with an expression that almost broke John. Hate. "No I'm not." He said frostily "But I know you won't tell the Yard about this." John scoffed, "and how would you know that?" He challenged. Suddenly Moriarty's expression softened and John was looking at Sherlock. He had a pleading look on his face that damn near broke John's heart. John knew he couldn't live with himself if that man went to prison, whether he was real or not. Moriarty's sneer came back as soon as it had left. He nodded at John's pained expression, "that's how I know," was all he said.
John looked at this man, who had tricked him, mocked him and couldn't be happier that he'd done it. Yet he still couldn't bring himself to hate him. Moriarty knew this and was taking advantage of it. "Well, John," said Moriarty with a tone of finality as he turned and started walking away, "as much as I'd love to stay here and watch you fall apart I have things to do, people to kill," he stopped and faced John once more, "Goodbye John," he said with a twisted smile.
He left the swimming pool and John could feel himself breaking down. He wanted to lose control over who he'd thought was his best friend, but only allowed one small tear to trace itself down his face. He took a deep breath, turned and left the swimming pool.
Jim had watched the entire scene unfold before him, hidden upstairs. When John left he turned to the detective, whose eyes were misty. "Very good Sherlock," Jim said smugly, "I almost believed you myself." Sherlock glared at him as he made no effort to hide his bitter tears. He ignored what Moriarty said, "Well, I did it," he said flatly, "now you keep your end of the deal. Leave John alone. Leave him alone and I'll join you" Moriarty arched an eyebrow, "Oh, I promise my dear. I'll leave Johnny alone" He tipped his head silently with his finger, turned abruptly and left Sherlock alone. Sherlock's eyes were still wet with tears. The unspoken statement was lingering in the air like the smell of chlorine.
I will burn the heart out of you
A.N:I'm sorry :'(