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A Bit Worse	By : VulpineBeesKnees Category: S through Z > Sherlock (BBC) > Sherlock (BBC) Views: 2624 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: We do not own/have no affiliation with BBC's Sherlock or ACD Sherlock Holmes. No profit is made from this.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
Alright guys we are in the final stretch, only five more chapters. Warnings for this chapter. Major character death. Drug use. Not so much torture though, so that's good. Oh, in case you haven't had a chance we have a playlist to go with this story, that's where the chapter titles come from.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z7vddTgeS6Q&list=PLgGVjDLaUf7IfmRBbW2cOXtvBrGw-taAd&bpctr=1379342451
The sudden loss of John’s presence hit him hard and the anger started to rise from the pit of his stomach. Behind him he felt the young woman moving around. Whether she was nervous or unsure what to do he couldn’t tell, but at this point all he knew was that she had touched his John, and they were now alone.
Turning in his chair, he fixed her with an animalistic gaze, his entire body reading predator. His body was low and ready for action, and the fear he saw in her eyes made a shiver run through his body. As he stood, his surroundings pulsed lightly in his peripheral vision, but Mary was as clear as if she were cut from stone. He could practically see her heart beating faster as he advanced on her, shoulders tilted back like a panther. He was stalking her, and she knew it.
“Don’t do this.” She hissed, backing away from him slowly. “You do this and you’re playing right into his game. Father wants you to win, you’re his favorite.” She spat the words in disgust as she looked for a way of escape, but as she tried to dart past him, a long arm reached out and caught her by the throat. His long fingers wrapped almost completely around the fragile appendage. Two long strides, and she was against a wall, her hands gripping at his, trying to pull the vice-like grip from her as she was slid up, her feet not touching the ground.
“You filthy piece of shit...” he purred, his voice low and dangerous, “Didn’t I tell you I would kill you for what you’ve done?” His hand started to compress and her eyes already wide with fear flickered around the room looking for help of any kind.
Mary gasped for breath, her hands gripping at his wrist desperately. “Seb is dead because of you.” She choked out, her voice barely above a whisper. “What else was I-”
“He is dead because of your father.” Sherlock spit out the words, interrupting her, “He came after ME, your father sent him after me to force me to kill myself, and your brother took his own life. If you have anyone to blame, look at your father. Look in the mirror!”
She let out a raspy giggle, seemingly oblivious or possibly accepting of the position Sherlock had her in. “Our father Sherly. Our father and our brother. Killing me won’t end this. He’ll never stop, not until there’s one of us left. Congratulations brother dear… You win.”
“HE IS NOT MY FATHER. WITHOUT JOHN I HAVE. NO. FAMILY!”, Every consonant was pronounced, the cocaine making him stronger and more precise. He leaned back once more, arm fully extended to keep her off the ground, and adjusted his fingers so that he could feel the fragile trachea just beneath the surface of her skin. And then, he just started squeezing. He could feel the fragile appendage giving way beneath his fingers, and his eyes bore down into hers. He felt the tell tale snap beneath his hands and watched her struggle for breath. The life left her eyes slowly, and Sherlock watched every second until he felt her heart stop beating beneath his fingertips.
When he dropped her, the sickening sound of her body hitting the ground broke through the haze around his mind and brought the great detective to his knees beside the lifeless body. Her lifeless body. Mary Moran. She’d had a life, and her only family had been taken from her, Sebastian who had been so much like their father had taken his own life after being manipulated by Moriarty, just like the rest of them had.
‘You help me on cases, you help me catch murderers. I can’t let you become one of them.’’ Sherlock’s hands twisted in his hair as Lestrade’s words echoed in his mind, loudly and without ceasing. The detective tried to will the voice away, but it reverberated within the walls of his head, until he was pounding on his skull with closed fists.
“NO! I AM NOT A MURDERER!” he shouted at the top of his lungs, “I can’t... She... she deserved to die.... didn’t she?” Her words threaded with Lestrade’s in his ears.
‘Killing me won’t end this. I can’t let you become one of them”
“STOP IT!” he cried, hands tugging at his hair and clawing down his face, “STOP I AM NOT A MURDERER!” But Sherlock knew even now, that this could not be covered up so easily. He would be labeled a murderer, his own life didn’t matter. Not any more.
‘Murderer. Brother dear, you win.’
“Shut up. SHUT UP!” Sherlock growled and slammed both hands on the ground. The pain throbbing through his hand, intensified by his wounds helped quiet the voices in his mind long enough for him to gather his thoughts. Taking a few deep, stabilizing breaths, he was able to push the echoing accusations to the back of his mind. He returned for his coat, and slipped the cocaine in his pocket along with the syringe and bottle of water, then left the building, and Mary behind.. His phone buzzed with a text from John’s Mobile.
Meet me on top of the Tower Bridge in 6 hours. Good luck surviving until then.
By the way. Good job with Mary. She was getting annoying anyway.
Sherlock growled softly to himself as he disappeared into the city.
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The screen snapped off suddenly, John hadn’t even seen Moriarty move to turn it off. Shooting from the seat he turned to face the older man. He had promised to give Sherlock an address, he had to give them an address. John’s hands were balled in fists painfully at his sides as he glared at Moriarty.
“This is done. Give him the address.” John had reached his limit, there was no more staying calm. Had he had any more strength he may have tried taking Moriarty on right then, but he could still barely stand.
Slipping the phone from his pocket he rolled his eyes at John, obviously not bothered by the soldiers anger. “There. Done.” He smiled at John wickedly. Something wasn’t right, it wasn’t over. “You two will get to see each other again. You will... Well..” He drew out the word painfully before moving on, “I mean that’s assuming he survives the next six hours.”
The smile on Moriarty’s face grew to the point that he looked utterly insane, his eyes glistening manically. John’s brow furrowed and his head shook back and forth subconsciously.
“What...” He breathed softly.
Moriarty laughed, “What? What does Sherlock have to do to find us? What have I sent him into?” He stepped forward, looming over John dangerously, brushing a hand across his jaw causing John to recoil. “Every connection Sherlock failed to eradicate in the past three years has been given orders to kill him on sight. There’s only about fifty assassins out there in London looking for him as we speak.”
You monster. You disgusting filthy bastard. Thoughts rolled through John’s mind, he wanted to hit the man in front of him. He didn’t care if he had no chance any more. If he was going to die he was going to take whatever bit of Moriarty with him that he could. But he didn’t, the words wouldn’t come from his mouth, he couldn’t move. Panic swept through him as he met the green eyes dancing in front of him.
“Oh? Something the matter doctor?” He began circling John slowly, his eyes lingering on all the damage he’d caused. “Devil’s Breath, you know it’s very strong.” He brushed his fingers off on the side of his pants. “I just had to get my fingers close enough for you to breath it in, I do love being subtle. Wasn’t exactly Mary’s forte was it?”
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Sherlock had been surprised when the first shot had been taken at him, and now he was making sure to keep obstacles around him at all times. He had only stopped running to shoot up a few times to keep the withdrawals at bay, steadily decreasing the dose. He stopped now, huddled in an alley behind some trash bins to stir the solution and inject it into his arm. He looked at the contents of the bottle, he had a little over half left. Hopefully that would get him through the rest of Moriarty’s games. Once that happened he could take John to the hospital and be treated from there.
Looking at his phone he saw that the six hours was almost up. He’d stayed relatively close to the bridge at first, but all the assassins seemed to be there, so he’d fallen back. He had about fifteen minutes to get to the bridge, and he intended to make it on time. Closing his eyes briefly, he let the maps of London filter until he could pick the best route and headed that way. He dodged bullets and knocked out would be stabbers, until finally, he was standing at the foot of the Tower Bridge.
Looking around the regularly populated area, he saw neither John nor Moriarty, but looking up he saw two figures on top of the metalworking. Quickly spotting a maintenance ladder that was fairly hidden, he made his way towards it and began his ascent to the top. The drugs pumping through his veins kept him calm as he emerged at the top.
Across a steel girder, he could see Moriarty holding on to one of John’s arms, holding him precariously towards the edge. About fifty feet from Sherlock, halfway between them, was two bottles. Sherlock could see a single pill in each bottle, and his stomach blanched.
“So nice of you to join us Sherlock.... I have one last puzzle for you.”
- 10
- 11
- 12
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A Bit Worse