So, I hope you all like this story. I had the first 5 chapters written before my computer decided to be retarded and deleted everything I had on that document. I guess thats what I get for only having one copy of the thing. So, because it has been screaming at me to get out of my head, i decided to re-write it for you. Luckily I remember most of what I wrote, and I think everything sounds better this time around.

Summary: Moriarty always knew he was going to be the end of Sherlock Holmes. He also knew that because of him Sherlock's career as a consulting detective wouldn't end with a bang, but a whimper.

Takes place during the pool scene.

Also, I do not own Sherlock, that belongs to Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss, and Sir Arther Conan Doyle

Chapter 1: A Series of Unfortunate Events

Everything happened so fast. The sound of a muffled gunshot sounds somewhere behind Sherlock and in his peripheral he notices John slump against the tiled wall he was leaning against just moments ago. Without a second thought, sherlock fires a shot from the Browning he was wielding into the Semtex vest that was previously worn by John. Instead of the grand explosion that he is expecting, nothing happens. He looks up at Moriarty in disbelief, and is not surprised to see the criminal consultant grinning from ear to ear.

"Did you really expect me to put myself in the radius of an explosion just to see you Sherlock? Sure I wanted to meet you face to face, but I'm not an idiot." Moriarty said.

Sherlock glanced over at John, who was now laying unconscious on the floor. The lack of blood concerned him.

"He's not dead." Moriarty said, reading Sherlock's expression. "It's a sedative. I figured it would be easier to take him that way. It's a real bother when they struggle."

"You're not taking him anywhere." Sherlock said as he leveled his gun at Moriarty's head.

There was two more muffled gunshots and Sherlock felt a sharp pain in his right arm and shoulder. He could feel the drug begin to quickly course through his veins. Sherlock wavered slightly, but managed to keep the gun level.

Moriarty seeing how quickly the drug was taking effect, slowly made his way over to the consulting detective. "You're so protective of your pet Sherlock. I was rather hoping you would be, the game wouldn't be as fun if you weren't."

"What game?" Sherlock ground out. He'd have to talk as little as possible to save his energy.

"The new one I've been setting up of course. These previous games we've been playing have just been to test your abilities Sherlock. Though I must say, If you weren't so brilliant, John wouldn't have to go through this."

Sherlock flexed his fingers around the gun to try to get a better grip on it, he could feel it slipping. "And what will he be going through?"

"I don't want to spoil the surprise for you." Moriarty was in front of Sherlock now, the gun still pointed at him. He put his hand over the top of the gun and began lowering it so that it was pointing at the ground when he tugged it out of Sherlock's hand and threw it into the pool. "We wouldn't want to hurt anyone with that silly thing now would we."

Sherlock staggered from the tugging motion that Moriarty had made and almost lost his footing, when Moriarty caught him. "Careful my dear."

Sherlock pushed Moriarty away and in return sent himself sprawling across the floor, his consciousness waning. He knew it wasn't the smartest thing to do, but at the moment his fight or flight responses were telling him to get away from Moriarty.

"As adorable as you are like this Sherlock, daddy really must be going now. I've just been informed that you're brother is on his way and I don't want to deal with that thorn in my side right now." He bent down to Sherlock's level and caressed the side of his face in a gesture of mock tenderness. "Don't you fret about you pet while he's away, I'll make sure he's taken care of. I'll be sure to have him fed and washed. If I feel up to it, I may even teach him some new tricks while he is away."

Sherlock wanted to sling a warning at him, but it took all of his energy just to keep his eyes open and focused. Moriarty bent over him and pressed his lips to Sherlock's forehead. "Get some sleep my dear detective, you're going to need it for what I have planned for you."

The last thing Sherlock saw before he finally lost consciousness was Moriarty walking towards the doors followed by two of his henchmen who were carrying john.