Sherlock took the back way out of the cemetery. The opposite of the way John had taken. He had to hop a fence. But he couldn't run into John. Seeing his friend say goodbye was harder than he had expected.

He reached the main road and hailed down a cab that was puttering past. The driver stopped and he got in the back seat.

"Where to?"

"Heathrow, please."

Sherlock was still thinking about John, the militaristic nature of those final moments by his graveside. It was his coping mechanism, reverting back to his army training...

He hardly noticed when the cab stopped at a corner, until the door opposite was opened and a dark haired man in a sharp suit slipped in. But before Sherlock could object, the cab took off again. And when the man tuned his head to face him, he no longer felt the need to.

"Jim Moriarty...alive"

"Afternoon, Sherlock." Moriarty greeted with a grin.

"What...?" Sherlock responded stuntedly.

"How have you been, dear?" Jim turned his entire body to face the detective bringing his leg up to rest on the seat.

"I've been better."

"I'm sure you have. Seeing John?"

Sherlock sighed.

"Your not going to kill them all now?"

"Erm...no. I mean that was only to get you to jump. I thought you might have worked that out." Jim said looking a bit disappointed.

"Well, I didn't realize you were alive..."

"I knew you wouldn't check." Jim grinned and then he was serious again.

"Why don't you tell me what all that spectacle was for then?"

"You're not suggesting I was being insincere in the roof now, are you?"

Sherlock made a face.

"I could never lie to you about that, Sherlock. You certainly surpassed all my expectations. I am grateful, truly." Jim admitted bluntly, holding the detective's suspicious gaze.

"Well, then?" Sherlock made a slightly impatient gesture.

"Don't you see, love, that now we can be together? That now there's nothing to stop us from working together. Well, ruling the world together."

"That was your plan all along." The detective leaned back against the seat, processing.

"Light dawns on marblehead." Jim was grinning good naturedly when Sherlock looked at him again. Sherlock found it a bit unsettling.

"Why didn't you just ask when you came for tea? Or at the pool?"

"Ha, because, do you know how you're when you have to worry what John will say? What Mrs. Hudson will think? If Lestrade will let you on to a crime scene? It's banal."

Sherlock pursed his lips at the mention of his friends.

"Oh, come now, your only on the side of the angels for connivence and we both know it. Well, until you found John." Jim amended with a face.

"So, you had to get me away from him."

"I already told you, love, we're made for each other. You said you were me. Think of how much we could accomplish. How much fun we could have."

Sherlock's face was impassive now. He was thinking, always thinking; his fingers tapping the armrest. Jim sat patiently as he could. Watching the detective think, it was distracting. But he couldn't think about that now, no. Was it taking too long for Sherlock to figure all this out? Too long. Was there a flaw in his plan? No, the plan was sound. The plan was perfect. Did the Fall affect the man's brain somehow? Honestly, how long could it take to piece this all together? But this was exactly everything Moriarty had ever wanted in the world. Everything he worked for. Maybe even his life goal? To find his equal. It was shit luck that he found him on the opposite side, but he wasn't going to complain. Not after looking for so long- always wondering if that one kid who questioned the death of Carl Powers was his match. No, no, if being quiet for five minutes was what it took for Sherlock Holmes to switch to Jim's team then (on top of all the work he'd put into to getting the detective here, couldn't forget that now could he?), five minutes was worth the silence. He was certain.

"So, what do you say?"

It was true. Everything Jim and he had said, from the roof to now. Those people. His friends, they were always the hands that kept him on the side of the angels. It had all been for connivence and then expectation. John, good old John. Couldn't stand to disappoint John.

But with Jim. For once, it would be easier to not do it by the books. There would never have to be that forced civility. They wouldn't have to worry about the police or silly things like laws. And they would be free. That's what this was, the Fall, the suicides. It was so they- the two of them- could be reborn and rise again. Above the ashes, stronger; phoenixes. Free. That's what Moriarty was offering him. Freedom. On a scale he'd never considered possible. And they wouldn't be bored, no. This was Jim Moriarty he was talking about. No, they would be free of boredom as well.

And John, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, and Molly; they could all live like they had before this detective had come in telling them all the points and evidence they had missed. And they'd all be alive and living and well. And it be fine. And he could go with Jim. With no regrets. Because of the death of Sherlock Holmes offered everyone a fresh start.

"How long would this 'partnership' last?"

"What? You imagine you'd get bored with me, do you?"

At that the detective's lips quirked upward and Moriarty's grin broadened.