Sherlock had been a ball of manic energy for weeks now, the past being the worst of it. The clues. There were always clues. It was just like the first time they met Jim Moriarty as he truly was. Not Jim the guy from IT. No. The psychopath to Sherlock's sociopath. It had been a deadly dance, one Moriarty thrived on and even Sherlock had, for it had given him a challenge. At least at first. Before people died. Only they didn't die here. If that were intentional or not, Sherlock didn't know. All he knew were the clues. The clues that had led him to bloody Rome and left him stranded there. It wasn't like he had money to just throw at an airline company. But then there were more clues. Waterfalls. Staying Alive. Goodbye beautiful friend... Added with Molly's confession of being the leak, controlled by Katherine to get John to Moriarty? All of that manic energy was at tenfold.
Waterfalls could mean anything, but with the intel the blond had found.. what was her name? Did it matter? No. What mattered was the location. Canada. Why the hell Canada? So through trial and error and realizing Moriarty had even more power on his side than initially thought, Sherlock was back in Lawrence and had been pacing in agitation at Watchtower until the brunette one, Louise, Lois.. something like that, told him that they had a jet on board from some look alike of the movie version of him and... other people were there as well. He didn't bother fighting it. If they wanted to involve themselves, that was their issue. Sherlock was the endgame, he knew this. And while he hadn't said it, it was better that he go alone so less collateral damage would be had. He was by no means a good man, he cared for no one because caring put you at a disadvantage. John was just his blogger. His assistant. The one to get things done that were mundane and normal and easily forgotten.... He was just upset because he wanted this over and done with now.
The trip was done in silence. Not like Sherlock minded. Maybe people spoke but he didn't listen. He had gone to his palace, working on every single clue he had. It was unnecessary, at least for this. Because the fact remained that he knew the answers, what each clue meant when put with the others. But the fact was he needed to focus his mind and this was the best way to do it. What the others spoke of, if anything, it wasn't paid attention to and the second they landed, Sherlock was on the move, long legs propelling him forward quickly, only to turn to a run as he saw two familiar silhouettes. There were snipers because there were always snipers when Moriarty was involved.
Leaving the others behind, Sherlock raced forward. Only to see Moriarty spot him, smirk and then pull the trigger. Things stopped making sense at that point. He was pretty certain there had been wind blowing before but it seemed to have stopped. There was no sound beyond the gunfire. If he yelled, screamed, whatever, he didn't know. At some point, the movement in his legs started up again, and he managed to stumble his way to where John's body had fallen, dropping to his knees in a tangle of limbs.
"John. You can stop being an idiot now and get up."
It was reflex. Insult John. Annoy John. Because John wasn't the one meant to die. If anyone died, it was supposed to be between Sherlock and Moriarty. Because John was just his blogger. His death meant nothing and it meant everything because John was his only friend. Here and at home. Oh, he trusted Lestrade. Would kill someone for Mrs. Hudson and trusted Molly in her own way. But John mattered when he shouldn't. John had made him weak. Had given Moriarty a way in because that disadvantage was there.
This wasn't happening. Because this wasn't the way that it was supposed to go. He wasn't supposed to feel because he didn't have a heart. Everyone said it. Everyone but John and where did that get him.
"You're an idiot. I told you! Caring gets you killed! You shouldn't have..."
Why was there something wet on his cheek. Reaching up, the detective touched his fingers to his cheeks, pulling them away and blinking at what he could only assume to be tears. That wasn't right...