Chaptet Ten

                                    

                                          
I hope this chapter was worth the wait!! I am proud of this chapter so I hope that you guys enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.  It's the longest one so far at like 2000 words (almost) There's a bit of a WARNING though, it's a bit violent and there's some language so if your not ok with that then, you've been warned. Anyways, I will quit ranting on and let you read. 
                          
xx
-Johnlox
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    The taxi ride was short, the pool wasn't actually that far away and Sherlock was grateful. His nerves had been ground down to a to a sharp edge and everything around him felt like it would break the remaining calm that he was clinging onto. Sherlock took a shaky breath as the cab drove away, attempting to steady himself. John had better be inside that pool.
    The doors to the pool gave way easily and Sherlock's nose was assaulted with the heavy scent of chlorine. He closed his eyes briefly before entering the pool any further, willing John to be inside. He felt like collapsing, the coke high was fading rapidly now and whenever he thought of John with a bomb strapped to his chest, it felt like a kick in the stomach. 
    The pool was dark as it had been last time and the patterns reflected off the water danced on the walls. Normally Sherlock liked to watch the wavering lines of light flicker across everything they touched, but now it just felt like they were taunting him. It was dead silent, there was not a stir in the air except for the lapping of the water on the edge of the pool. Sherlock spun around, if John wasn't here, he was sure that he would- John,
    He was tied, drugged and gagged to the pool ladder and Sherlock felt his sore stomach clench. How could Moriarty be so cruel!? John's eyes were blackened and one was swollen shut, his cheeks were mottled in bruises and discolouration around his neck showed that he had been choked. Something flared up inside Sherlock, before he felt weak but now he felt a storm brewing inside like some sort of flame tornado, his rage was welling up and becoming hotter by the second. He didn't waste anymore time waiting to run to John.
    "John, John," he knelt in front of him, gently shaking his sides, careful to avoid touching the explosives that were strapped to his chest, again. "John please," his heart ached, it felt like someone had stabbed a hot poker into it. Please don't be gone, please don't be gone. He just couldn't let John die, he had to tell him, he had to let him know how he had felt all this time. He couldn't live with the fact that John could die, he was his other half, the better half. He was what kept him right, he was the person tipping the scales just right so Sherlock didn't fall to far to one side, he was Sherlock's soul and heart. The pain was unbearable thinking that someone so pure, so firery, so compassionate, could leave this world, and never know what they meant to anyone.
    "She-sherlock," John mumbled weakly, trying to keep his eyes open.
    "Shush shush, John, it's alright, it's going to be okay, I'm going to get you out of here, I promise, I promise," Sherlock tried to soothe John, but he was already out again.
    "Well, well, isn't that sweet." Moriarty's cold but amused voice materialized along with him from the shadows."I'm sorry, I may have wrecked your blogger a bit, but if he gets blown up then you won't have to worry about his recovery-period," his accent was thick with syrupy evil and when he spoke, Sherlock felt as if there were worms in his stomach.
    "You sadistic fuck, I promise you, this will be the last thing you ever do," Sherlock seethed.
    "Hahaha, tut-tut Sherlock, you haven't learned a thing," Moriarty smiled, but it failed to reach his cold, dead eyes.
    "No Moriarty, it is you who has not learned a thing," said Sherlock, surprising himself with his own calmness. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled a handgun from it. "No one, not a single person hurts John and gets away with it."
    Moriarty just laughed, clearly unconcerned with the gun aimed at his head. "I hope you've told him everything you wanted to Sherl," he said cooly, as he cracked his neck. "Because believe me, if you pull that trigger, you, me, this whole swimming pool, and your beloved John Watson are all going up in flames."
    Sherlock sucked in a breath, it was taking all his self control not to loose his mind and rip Moriarty limb from limb. He wished he had a sword, so he could administer the final blow much more personally. When he finally spoke, his voice shook. "What do you want?"
    "Ha-Ha Sherlock, very funny, you think I want something? Contrary to popular belief, sometimes I don't have a plan. Sometimes I just want to disturb the peace, create a flaw in the system, bribe a whole branch of the government to do something  for no reason other than it's fun." He fixed Sherlock with an even more piercing stare. "Sometimes I just want to watch your world fall apart, sometimes I just can't wait to see the look on your face when I kill the person you love most."
    Sherlock tried to breathe steadily but it was like the wind had been knocked out of him. He tried to say something clever, something to keep Moriarty talking while he thought of a plan but he just ended up opening and closing his mouth like a stranded fish.
    "Lost for words?" He asked, voice silky-smooth as he sauntered closer. "How unusual for you, your usually so talkative, wanting to impress your doctor, making fancy deductions, it's really quite egotistic. Have you looked for professional help?"
    "I don't want to fill up the clinics when people like you are wandering the streets, you clearly need more help than me," said Sherlock getting a bit of his confidence back.
    "Hmmph, always the sassy one Sherlock. If only you could have followed your own rules," said Moriarty nonchalantly, looking at his nails.
    "Which rules are those?" said Sherlock, already knowing. His blood was boiling, he just wanted to kill Moriarty.
    "Oh you know, the trivial ones such as, NOT GETTING INVOLVED!" Moriarty suddenly screamed in Sherlock's face. Sherlock couldn't avoid jumping.
    "LIKE STAYING AWAY FROM SENTIMENT! BUT NOW YOUR WEAK! YOU ARE BORING!" He yelled, his voice booming and spittle flying from his mouth and landing on the front of Sherlock's coat. "You used to be soo much fun Sherlock, but now you're just the same, you're just a normal person. I don't like boring Sherlock, which is why we have to break up." He came and put his face inches from Sherlock's.
    Sherlock managed to keep his composure although he was fighting an internal battle inside. It was extremely hard not to immediately recoil from Moriarty's closeness. It was like being face to face with an extremely venomous snake, but not moving away from the danger even though it coursed through your every blood vessel.
    "We just can't be together anymore, you found John and well, I don't like not being the centre of attention anymore. I'm going to have to say goodbye. It's not me it's you, and all that stuff." He remained close to Sherlock, his face leering like a moray eels's.
    "You are insane," Sherlock spat, his voice sewn with hate.
    "That's what keeps life interesting!" He said, voice suddenly amicable. "Ta-Ta, Sherl, always a pleasure," he turned to walk away. "Oh! I almost forgot! If the bomb doesn't go off in a few minutes, don't expect Jawn to recover. I may have accidentally given him an overdose!" Moriarty sashayed away with his hands in his pockets.
    At first, it was like someone had dropped a cold metal object into Sherlock's stomach but it quickly changed. It was like someone had turned up the heat, like someone had stoked the fire way up, but Sherlock didn't move, he didn't breathe. He stayed perfectly statue-like as he calmly raised the handgun up, and aimed it for the back  Moriarty's head. He took a deep breath and squeezed the trigger.
    The resulting noise ripped through the quiet air in the pool, it cracked like a whip and exploded in the silence. The bullet hit Moriarty square in the back of the head, it flew through with startling force and broke the tiles on the wall in front of him. It was like slow motion, Moriarty was pitched forward violently and the broken tiles spiralled through the air in a cascade of dust and sharp fragments. Them everything sped up again, Moriarty hit the floor with a sickening smack and the shards skittered to the ground around him. The pool was perfectly silent again, and Sherlock held his breath, waiting for snipers to appear and fill him full of holes. When nothing came, he practically flew toward John, in instants he was untied, 999 was dialled, and John's bruised and bleeding head was laying in Sherlock's lap.
    He smoothed back John's hair from his brow, which was sticky with sweat. His poor face was a sickly shade of white-grey, which made the dusky purple blue and pink bruises even more apparent. Sherlock's heart felt like it was bleeding out just from looking at his broken doctor. Hot tears stung his eyes, he felt like someone had carved a hole right through his chest and the ragged edges of the wound screamed every time he breathed. Tears fell on John's face as he relived every moment, every moment that he could of told John how he felt, every moment to tell John what he meant to him, every moment that he could have held him. So much time was wasted, so much time that Sherlock would never get back. Sherlock tried to breathe but it felt like someone had placed a boulder on his chest, and he was cold, so very cold. He closed his eyes and touched his forehead to John's.
    "Please don't leave me, please John, I need you. I love you." He said the words that he had been meaning to say all along but it didn't feel right. There was a cold finality to it that made him want to scream. Sobs ripped through his body, cries caught in his throat and the tears flowed freely now. Sherlock was so fraught with pain that he didn't notice the extreme hunger in his stomach, he didn't notice his dehydration and he didn't notice passing out next to John on the ice cold tiles. The last thought Sherlock had before he slipped out of consciousness was that if John died, there would be nothing stopping him from going with him.