Who - Jim Moriarty, Emma Swan, John Watson What - All psychotic things must come to an end. Where - The Moriarty home When - Early on the 17th July Rating - High cause of the Character Deaaath Status - Complete!
There was nothing she could do but wait.
Emma was so sick of all of this. If she’d only walked away when she’d had the chance, maybe things would have been different. Mary Margaret had managed to walk away from David when she knew it had been the best decision for her. But then, she’d also gone through several moments of weakness, going back again and again until she’d had no choice. Until David had hurt her too much.
Jim hadn’t hurt her though. Not yet, and she didn’t know for sure that he ever would. She’d meant what she’d said to Lois, to Jo, to everyone else who’d asked after her. She really felt she was the only one in that city to not be in any real danger. She also meant what she’d said to Katherine. For all of his power, all of his strengths, she had him. Jim Moriarty was hers. Love was a hell of an emotion. It was what kept her there despite knowing what he did, despite knowing how quickly he could change. And it was what made him let her live. It was what made him pick her over all the whores who showed up wanting his love and protection. One they might possibly get with some work. The other entirely belonged to her.
So she paced. And she sat. And she flipped idly through tv channels she didn’t give a damn about. And she paced some more. There was so much more she needed to tell him. So much more she wanted for him. There were things he didn’t know, and she hated it. If he didn’t come back, then what? And if he did... Well. Was that really any better? God, she didn’t know anymore.
Finally, after what felt like days but couldn’t have been more than a few hours if that, she heard the key in the lock at the door. She shot to her feet, her heart in her chest and yet another miserable wave of nausea running through her. She’d be glad when that little symptom finally stopped.
It was done. And he didn’t know how to feel except of course for the pain of the damned bullet. It stung. It burned. But he couldn’t help it, he’d been laughing through the pain all of the way back to his home. He’d called a car and managed to keep it together. Show no weakness, never let them see that you’re not at the top of your game or the empire comes crumbling down. It would have been a boring world if not for Emma. He’d won, fine, Watson was alive, some sneaky little trick with a human trained in pain throwing him off his tracks with some ridiculous life and death ability but he’d made his peace with it, and with his deal. Lucifer had made his promise and kept it to the word but...he was starting to see it, demons looking like demons, hearing noises that weren’t quite there, did that mean he hadn’t won. That dead though Sherlock may be, he’d done enough to kill him.
No, no. Emma would find a way, they’d get that woman that had saved Watson, hold a gun to her head if they had to. He’d survive this. He always did, that’s just the kind of man he was. He’d make it through because he was supposed to tell her story, be there for his fairytale. And Emma Swan was not done yet. Not by far. She’d become everything he knew she could be and more but she’d do it with him guiding her. When she opened the door though, he finally realised he could admit to the hurt. Was that what Katherine had meant by love getting confusing...
Oh, OH!
“You’re going to need to call Katherine, fairytale. It didn’t go...exactly as planned but he’s dead. He’s dead, and he’s gone and I told you I’d come back to you, didn’t I say it? It’s just going to have to be a bit different. I have to cheat death now y’see and I have to do it quickly or I lose everything. You, lose everything” With that he stumbled slightly against her.
God, he was all right. He was fine, of course he was, and she wasn’t sure if that was relief or resentment or a mix of both that ran through her. But then no, no he wasn’t all right. He was hurt. And as he stumbled, she took the weight of him, coming from years in her profession and countless hours of training, and she led him slowly and carefully into the living room. “Let me see,” she said quietly, searching for the wound. A bullet, most likely. Which was something she was, fortunately, well versed in.
At the moment she couldn’t even let herself think about calling that fanged bitch to help. In fact, Katherine Pierce was the last person Emma wanted to see. Surely someone else could help. Anyone else. Unless...
“You don’t mean... You can’t, Jim. You can’t let her... We’ll fix this. We’ll find another way. A hospital. We’ll claim self-defense, technically it was, no one has to... You’re not dying on me, Jim. Not now.” Not when she needed him the most. She wasn’t ready to do this alone again. She couldn’t lose him. She wouldn’t.
He was so willing, though. So willing to let that bitch turn him? And for what? For her? Maybe. Or maybe it was just to continue the glory of having killed Sherlock Holmes. That? Was something she wasn’t ready to deal with just yet.
“Come on, my love. Let me see.” But it didn’t take more than a few buttons of his shirt for her to know just how badly he was injured. His suit had covered it well enough, but he was soaked in blood. This wasn’t something she could do herself.
Why, whyyy was she being naive. It didn’t work like that, the world was not that easy and she was never going to see the criminal world as he did, she didn’t understand every string, every step. Sherlock had crippled that and Jim needed to beat him, him and the devil both. Death was just another step in this world and if he lived he needed to be strong. Its why he’d shot the driver in the back of the head before coming inside the house. No one could know he was weak, he was hurt. No one. Because he would not let his empire fall. He couldn’t. He needed it and of course it needed him.
“I go to a hospital. And I’m weak. All the protections you have, all the power I have, it slips because I let somebody...because someone managed to get me. And he did....Watson’s alive, Emma, he’s alive and I didn’t know and he used it to...Oh for god sake just get Katherine would you. I need her. I need what she can give me and I need to escape from...I need to be stronger if I’m going to fight in this world, don’t you see. There’s different rules, different strengths and I need hers. You need to get her here and you need to help her however she asks, do you understand. I don’t know how long I have until it...It's bad isn’t it?” he asked trying to look down and wincing badly at the sight.
“You know how this plays out if you don’t. If you loved me, if you ever did, you’d get me Katherine.”
Emma’s eyes closed when he winced as if she was the one in pain. And maybe she was. This wasn’t how she’d seen it going. Or had she seen it going at all? Had she tuned so much of this out that she hadn’t really planned on the next step? Possibly. Let it just happen. Let it happen all around her and see what came next.
This was not supposed to be what came next. With one hand she reached up, lightly touching his face. This wasn’t fair. He was asking what she couldn’t give. She loved him, yes, but she couldn’t let him... Would it turn him? Would she be a fool for asking? “What...” She hesitated, focusing her eyes on him rather than the bullet wound that was causing him so much misery. “What happens? What is she going to do?” As if she didn’t know. As if she’d already decided to make the call, to let that horrible woman near the man she loved. After their little chat, she wanted her near him even less, but what else could she do? Did she have any other options?
“Sweetheart...” She swallowed hard, knowing she needed to get pressure on the wound. Unless that would somehow hinder what the vampire bitch needed to do. She didn’t know. She couldn’t. Unless she got her phone and made that call.
Jim couldn’t believe she hadn’t called Katherine yet. Was this love? Complaining and asking why? She knew perfectly well why? “Do you want me to die? Is that it, you’ve finally decided that I’m not worth all the hassle and its best if I just follow Sherlock into dea...” he broke off his rant with a wince, hands grabbing Emma’s own and staring into her eyes. “If you love me. If you want us to work, to go on from here. If you want the world like I promised then you don’t ask questions. Let her do what she needs to do, and she’ll want to. Oh how she’ll want to. Bet its been on her mind for months. She likes the taste.” He smirked slightly before realising how that must have sounded with a wry shrug. “Kept her onside, and she’s a very, very valuable asset. You remember your rules, I stuck to them darling. I did. Now trust me. I need her.”
It was starting to hurt more than he was willing to let it. He needed healing and he needed it now, he needed the new life she offered. A way to cheat death. It rather appealed to him.
“She’ll probably turn me, make me like her, but that’s okay. I can turn you after and it’ll be better, we’ll be better, stronger. Its not as bad as it sounds and we get to live forever you and me, don’t you want forever?”
“Call her we don’t have a lot of time.”
But Emma needed more time. This wasn’t a decision she could just make. Her face went pale as the implication of his words sank in. He wanted to not only be helped by Katherine, but to become one of her kind. Worse, he wanted Emma to, as well.
Forever. Emma didn’t believe in forever. She never had. She’d never been the little girl with delusions of a big fancy wedding and a pretty white dress and two kids in a brick house with a picket fence. Those were for children with families. For kids who saw happy people and wanted to be like them. Maybe if her parents had been able to raise her, then maybe she would believe in happy endings and lifelong love. But until Jim, she hadn’t even believed love existed, let alone that it could last until death do you part.
She’d been burned in the past. Many times over and so badly, too. And that was before she’d ever truly opened her heart, allowed herself to fall in love. But the one thing she knew she’d done right in her life was Henry. Him showing up on her doorstep? Now that had been fate. Showing her that, despite a rough upbringing, she’d still brought an amazing little boy into the world. She’d given life to him, given him all of herself, and then given him up. And despite the hell he went through every day, he was incredible. Nature versus nurture, nurture versus nature. Could she raise her little girl on her own? Or worse, as part of this sick, twisted vampire family?
She had to decide soon. The man who had taken her heart was lying there, bleeding, getting paler. She could save him. All it would take was the swallowing of her pride and one phone call. Later there would be time to decide if she herself could make that switch. But...if she didn’t, would she ever live in peace? He’d hound her until she did. If she tried to leave, then what?
Emma had seen a world without Sherlock Holmes. Sixteen years into the future she’d gone. She’d seen the horrible person she’d become. Queen of the Crime Scene, wife and partner of the great Jim Moriarty. Feared by many, respected by all. And it was a powerful thought, oh she’d be lying if she said it didn’t have its benefits. Royalty ran through her blood. It always had, it had just lain dormant for so long she hadn’t even known she deserved a royal treatment. And he could give that to her. If she wanted it.
Did she, though? And at what cost? Her morals? The baby? What that baby was going to grow into? That future couldn’t be allowed to happen. She’d promised herself that all along. She’d promised the few friends who stayed by her, who’d warned her, that she wouldn’t let herself become that woman.
It had taken all of this, but now she knew. Now she understood why she’d become her. What had pushed her across that line. Sherlock Holmes was dead. As far as Jim was concerned, nothing else could stop him. And where did that leave her? Side with him, stay at his side, rule this city together...? Or die in the effort to stop him. To get away.
It was killing her. It wasn’t the baby causing the nausea she was feeling now. This was the hardest choice she’d ever make; she knew that as well as she knew anything else in her life, which really wasn’t much. Leaning in, she kissed him softly and nodded, mostly to herself. “I love you,” she told him, then pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket and went off to the kitchen to give herself some privacy.
She stared at Jim’s phone for a bit longer than she should have, given she had a dying man to worry about. But it was the hardest thing she’d ever done. She clicked on his contacts and started scrolling. From all the business, he had hundreds. Katherine’s name sat a few above hers. It would be so easy to click it, to follow through. To do exactly as he’d asked.
But another name sat a few after. The one person who was more angry with him right then than she was. Emma didn’t even question how he had John Watson’s number. She didn’t even think. Her head was spinning as she selected it and tapped on the option to dial. She’d regret this someday. Probably. Or maybe, as she watched her little girl grow up free from this nonsense, maybe she’d decide she’d done the right thing.
As she waited for the other line to pick up, she held her breath. Already she felt dizzy, and she had to resume breathing. The world felt like it was spinning too quickly as it was. But there was nothing left to do but sit and hope the soft British accent picked up. And would agree. If not...plan B was the most terrifying thing she could imagine.
If the world was still spinning, John Watson was not aware. It could have caught fire around him and he would not have even blinked. He stared down at the phone in his hands, it didn’t even look like they were his own. All that he was sure of was gravity worked, because he was on the ground though unsure how he’d gotten there. Twice. That was twice his heart had been ripped out of his chest and broken into a million tiny pieces.
Twice his best friend died by Jim Moriarty’s hands. They said it was going to be different, they promised him, he believed them and now. Now his best friend was gone again. Sherlock Holmes wasn’t coming back. This world was meant for second chances, but thirds were another story. John was numb. He hadn’t cried, he hadn’t moved, he’d barely been able to breathe. He was just numb through and through.
His phone rang. He almost didn’t hear it, only the flashing of the screen had caught his eyes and the caller ID. John considered ignoring it. Jim Moriarty was the very last person on Earth he wanted to speak to.
He had a thought, it was a selfish thought but one of very few that had actually bothered to connect to his brain since the last time he spoke to Sherlock. He didn’t care if he died anymore, but if he could take out Moriarty with him then at least Sherlock wouldn’t have died for nothing. His hand slowly hit the little green phone button and he lifted the cell to his ear but he didn’t say a word. He couldn’t find any to say.
Only silence met her, but she knew the man had answered because the ringing had stopped and no voicemail picked up. Keeping her tone even wasn’t even possible. She was shaking from head to toe and her voice was no exception. She stared out the window as she spoke, not focusing on anything. “Dr. Watson... John. I’m sorry...” She couldn’t finish. Not without her voice cracking.
This wasn’t fair. It wasn’t meant to be like this. She had her whole life in front of her. Their whole lives in front of them. It should have been different. Why had it all turned?
“I need your help. You don’t owe me anything... And I can’t give you back what you’ve lost. But...maybe it’ll help you heal. Somehow.” Or maybe he’d tell her the both of them could go to hell. And he’d be right. For all her sins, Emma didn’t doubt where she’d end up when the time came. And Jim? That was a given.
The voice on the other end was female. It belonged to Emma Swan. It didn’t take a consulting detective to deduce that much. The mere sound of her voice caused his blood to boil. For the longest time all he could do was listen to her ramble. He couldn’t offer any sort of comfort despite hearing her shake even through speech alone. He didn’t trust his voice so he let her continue on for a while and listened.
“Why on Earth would I want to help you?” When he finally spoke his tone no longer held that soft warmth, his voice was soft and sharp like tiny razors cutting through glass. He’d nearly removed the phone from his ear and hit end before he heard her offer and the movement stopped. “There’s nothing left for me, but go on then. Give me a reason not to hang up and let you both get whatever it is you deserve.”
His stormy grey eyes were half closed and his back pressed up against a wall as if it were the only thing keeping him from crumbling. Sherlock was gone. His reason for holding out hope was gone.
Frankly, he could have told her he hated her and she was worth nothing and she wouldn’t have felt any worse than she already did. He was welcome to try his best to hurt her but it couldn’t hurt more than it was right at that moment. What she was about to do was unthinkable. It was broken promises and shattered dreams and hopes that had come crashing down. But it had to be done.
“I’m offering you the one thing you want.” She swallowed down a sob before continuing. Because she had to do this without crying. If she cried, if she let herself have that moment of weakness, she wouldn’t do it at all. Absently, her left hand, the one not clutching the phone to her ear, drifted to her lower abdomen. She’d made her own grave, yes. But her little girl shouldn’t have to go down with her.
“You want him? He’s yours. He’s already weak, he’s unarmed, I can’t make this easier for you. There’s two guards that I can pay off easily enough. From there on, it’s all you.”
John couldn’t hate Emma in that moment. He couldn’t do anything but be in shock. Moriarty had made it out alive and not Sherlock. The only person John could hate was Moriarty. There was just simply no room for other emotions. In John’s eyes Jim Moriarty didn’t count as a person. He was a spider. Exactly as Sherlock had told him once upon a time. Nothing but a spider in the center of a web but that web had a thousand radiations, and he knew well every quiver of each of them. Moriarty’s web needed to be broken. John would be unable to rest until it was. He hated that Emma was right. Every word she spoke to him cut at him like a razor blade. “Why should I believe anything you tell me?” His throat was dry, his body felt like a brick. Had she not called he might have just sat there until he eventually wasted away and just not cared.
John didn’t have much to say, the fact that he was still even listening was a miracle in its own right. Every single fiber in his body was telling him to tell her to go to hell and hang up. Still he waited, pure hatred keeping him going by a thread. A chance to kill Moriarty. A sliver of perfect insanity touched his eyes as he fantasized about how it would go. Anger didn’t even begin to to truly fulfill how John felt in that moment.
“Maybe you shouldn’t,” she began slowly. This was taking too long. She should have just accepted her fate. Who was she to challenge anything? This was a woman who was meant to save the storybook world from a wicked curse. That? Was fated. Maybe everything in her life was already planned, right down to choosing to let a vampire ‘cure’ her boyfriend. “But you have two options. You do this, or I make another call. I call in Katherine Pierce. And she won’t just heal him, John. You have to know that.” Because that wasn’t how it worked. Not in Katherine’s world.
God, she really hated that woman.
She sighed, rubbing her temples. They didn’t have much time. Jim would catch on, would call her out for being on the phone for too long. Katherine wouldn’t exactly have had a long, drawn out conversation with her. He wasn’t stupid; he was a genius. He knew the two women didn’t get along. “We both want the same thing. John...I’m asking you to do what I can’t.”
“Fine.” He could have said more. Could have threatened her life as well, told her after this was over she should run. Honestly his tone suggested it for him. If he ever got the chance he would kill her too. Or maybe he would just make it easy for them all once Moriarty was dead and turn the gun on himself. He could see Sherlock again. Though Sherlock would probably laugh at him for believing in something so ridiculous as an after life. He would probably say that there was no after life, just science, they would rot under ground. John almost smirked at the internal mental conversation and shook his head.
“Where are you then.” He managed to keep a steady voice even though he was reliving his own personal hell. John was breathing still, Sherlock was not. He hadn’t even found the body yet but he would. He would search forever until he found it and Sherlock would have a proper burial. God why was he even thinking that? He closed his eyes to stop emotion that threatened as he waited for Emma’s response.
Not yet. He couldn’t break just yet, there was still more work to be done. He would not stop until Moriarty was six feet under.
It was her only chance to back out. But it had to be done. Again, she lightly touched her abdomen, knowing she wasn’t all that far from the day she’d feel her baby move for the first time. This was for her. Everything was for her. From here on out, every decision Emma made was for this little girl. What she should have done for Henry. What she couldn’t do for herself. It was all for this baby.
She gave John the address of the home. “As soon as you can. I can’t hold him off for long and if she changes him... You’ll never stop him. Ever. No one will.”
She didn’t even say goodbye. She had another goodbye she had to make and it wasn’t to John Watson. It was to the love of her life. Only he didn’t know that, and never would.
Under the guise of making tea, Emma slipped to the front walk and placed a one hundred dollar bill in each of the guard’s hands and murmured a few words about needing the place to themselves for a bit. Neither of them questioned her, and it was just a reminder of how close she was getting to being that woman. The woman from her future. No. She wouldn’t be.
She finally did return to his side, though. If these were the last few moments she had with Jim Moriarty, she wanted to spend them holding him. Loving him. For this, her ultimate betrayal, it wasn’t intentional. It certainly wasn’t what she wanted. She loved this man with everything she had. The choice she was making wasn’t for her. It wasn’t for John Watson and it obviously wasn’t for Jim. This was about her daughter.
“How are you holding up, my love?” she said softly, touching his brow. It was warm, but not overly feverish. The wound might kill him soon, or it could take days. There was no way to tell for sure how serious it was, not there in the mansion.
“Is she on her way?” he asked. Ugh he hated feeling like this, weak and reliant on someone else to get him where he needed to be. But Emma had done it in the end. She’d taken her issues with it and dealt with them and called Katherine, loyal Katherine who had always been there for him, always willing to help him because she understood. And they’d work out him and his fairytale because she’d made her choice, she’d stood with him when it mattered and she knew the city would be theirs, first this one then however many they wanted. Sherlock was gone and there was nothing that would ever stand in Jim Moriarty’s way. Not ever.
“As for how I feel, well that doesn’t matter does it? Not when it's going to be okay, she’ll be here soon, I’ll be okay and we...we’ll go far you and me, it doesn’t matter who tries to stop us, don’t you get it, you and me till the end of time, sounds good doesn’t it fairytale.” He coughed then and winced at the taste of blood on his lips. His own blood. Well that just wasn’t fun for anyone now was it? Katherine probably should hurry.
“Did she say how long she’d be, my love? Pretty sure it needs to be soon is all, the bastard managed to hurt me. It was fun though, watching the life leave him. He just kind of...lay there and then it was done. I saw the moment he gave up, and he wants me to join him in hell, a lot of people want me to join them in hell.” he told her almost looking past her to something she could never see. Only him. “You’ll learn to be okay with her my dear, she’s been a good friend to me, she always will be. But she’s not you...she didn’t take my heart.” Oh she might have, if he’d met her first who knew how much of the city would have burned by now. But she’d help him. She’d protect him. She’d save him because Emma had called her.
John Watson was on a war path. Nothing else mattered, no one else mattered. All that mattered was revenge. He’d lost too much to even stop and think about the repercussion of his actions. He’d lost too much to care. Nothing could stop him now. His best friend was gone, his reason for getting up in the morning was once again ripped away. What had he done to deserve so much pain and suffering? He’d always tried to be a good person. Always offered a helping hand where it was needed, or a smile when someone was down. Where did it get him?
Sherlock had said emotions would get him hurt, he was right. For a moment John’s head and heart were silent as he got himself a gun and made a bee line toward the address Emma had given him. The world around him didn’t exist it was merely white noise, he was consumed by anger. With a gun tucked away in his jacket he arrived at the address after what felt like an eternity. It felt like time itself had stopped and the world no longer made sense.
Only when he arrived at the Moriarty home did he manage to take a single breath before he knocked on the door to keep up appearances. He wanted it to seem like Katherine had arrived. He waited in silence, which was how he’d spent most of his time since Sherlock’s final message. He was pretty certain that was how his future was going to look, silent and colorless all over again. He couldn’t do it twice.
Emma found she couldn’t speak. Not when he was so determined that she was still the most loyal, the most trusted thing he had. No, it had taken long enough but her priorities were clear now. She had to put herself first. Maybe it was selfish, she didn’t care. Maybe he really did love her. She wanted to believe that. But she hadn’t been able to drive him from his single-minded hatred of Sherlock Holmes. She’d tried. God, she’d tried. Even at the last minute she was making a play for the detective’s life. And he had chosen his path, this destiny.
All she was doing was speeding it along.
And she could try and convince herself of that all day, but as he told her how she’d taken his heart and the knock on the door came, she almost panicked. She almost gave in. It would be so easy to be rid of Watson, really. They were on her turf, after all, where she was comfortable. She’d win a fight with him easily enough, and she could call Katherine who could be there a hell of a lot faster and maybe there was a way to heal him without turning him, that could work wouldn’t it?
But determination was one of Emma’s stronger qualities. And she’d made up her mind. The little princess she was going to have would be raised by her and her alone. She wouldn’t let that child be born into this life. Her baby deserved better. She shouldn’t be judged on the choices, the foolish choices, her mother had made.
She didn’t speak. She brushed her fingers through that thick, dark hair one more time. One last touch. Because she knew she couldn’t stand there when it happened. Oh, she may have longed to hold him through it, but she wouldn’t. It would, quite possibly, kill her. Hell, for all she knew, Watson would kill her. And could she say anything? Maybe she deserved it.
With the last ounce of strength she had, she bent, pressing her lips to his. A goodbye kiss, though he couldn’t know that. And she made her way to the door and found the young doctor and realized he looked as horrible as she likely did.
She couldn’t even greet him for fear of breaking. She simply nodded towards the room where she’d left the one person to ever truly love her. And she stood by the door and waited. Because she couldn’t go in there. Or anywhere near there. Possibly ever again. It wasn’t right. But it was the only choice she had. If Watson hadn’t agreed, then what? Would she have had the courage to do this herself? Doubtful.
It was good she didn’t try for small talk, or some empty greeting. John couldn’t find words to speak anymore. This wasn’t a social call, he didn’t hardly even look at Emma. It wasn’t because he worried looking at her would stop him, oh no nothing could stop him now. It was hard to look at anyone. Even his own reflection. Sherlock Holmes was dead, John Watson may as well have been also. The expression on his face was almost less than human.
Following her silent nod toward Moriarty’s bedroom, he unhooked his gun from its place on his belt and paused a moment at Jim’s door. There was no turning back now, no hesitating once he opened that door. He was not here to play doctor and fix the Moriarty’s, he was there for one reason only to put an end to his worst nightmare.
He opened that door and stared the weak Moriarty in the face. “Moriarty.” A single pause as he raised his gun at him. “I believe in Sherlock Holmes.” Words he wouldn’t even remember saying later most likely, everything he was doing felt like auto pilot. Felt like some sort of terrible dream. Only when he was sure that Moriarty was looking straight at him did he pull the trigger and go for the kill shot. The gun had a silencer as not to alert the neighbors, but John wasn’t even aware of that much. He cared not. He wanted to see the light leave Moriarty’s eyes even if it meant possible arrest for him. He didn’t care. There was very little he cared about anymore. Moriarty had made sure of that and now Watson would make sure he was the very last person he saw before he died.
Watson. John Watson. He’d expected Emma to go and get him Katherine and he’d expected tonight to be the start of something amazing. Not this. Never this. As it was, he hadn’t seen it coming. Treachery was such a dirty thing and he knew it well. But not from her. Never from her. She’d called Watson, he thought weakly as he’d looked up, realising that the kiss had been a kiss goodbye. That the last time he’d felt her run her hands through his hair had been a mark of betrayal. “Hope it was more than 30 pieces of silver you paid her. Because you really did get lucky didn’t you? Getting me. Hope its worth it Johnny Boy. ” he said, knowing he couldn’t go for his gun. He didn’t have it. No snipers, no plan, not even a damn knife.
And John Watson was to be his end. He believed in Sherlock Holmes. Believed in him. Of course he did, and that’s what it lead to. That’s all there was left. And Jim didn’t get to be around to see it all fall apart for Watson.
His last thought of course was that it wasn’t over. Neither of them. Not even Emma knew about the deal, and even Katherine only knew that if he was gone he wouldn’t be gone. Oh Emma, poor Emma had made her choice and love or not, that was it for her. She’d get hers, he’d make sure of it.
“Where you gonna run to fairytale?” he managed, calling to her out the door, before the bullet struck. A killing shot. Right to the heart that Emma Swan had proved he did in fact possess.
He knew. Of course he knew, Jim knew everything. If she hadn’t moved quickly, he would’ve known about this, too. For so long she hadn’t cared about life or death or any of it. If she died here, if everyone was right and he killed her, then so what? What was the worst that could happen? She got dropped back into Storybrook and back with her little boy? Big deal.
But now there was a factor she’d never planned on. Her life meant nothing, not to her or to anyone here. That had all changed that morning. It wasn’t only her life anymore.
The silencer muffled the shot but it couldn’t quiet the man she loved. God, she did. More than he’d ever know. And as she heard his last words, spoken only for her, she felt a twisting inside of her that she’d never felt before. Was that what heartbreak felt like?
Slowly, painfully, she made her way to the door. And she broke. The tears came hard and fast and wouldn’t be stopped for anything. The sobs wrenched from her and she watched him for what felt like hours. She no longer noticed John, she didn’t care where he was or how long he was there. All she knew was that her life would never, ever be the same again. She made her way to the bed and held him, one last time, hating herself and hating him and hating this god forsaken dimension.
And that was how it was meant to be. He walked out unnoticed just as he felt he would for the rest of his life to come without Sherlock by his side. He left to find the body of his friend, what he would do with it he was uncertain. What the next twenty four hours held for him was unclear. It was like he was living in a fog. A never ending nightmare, another world a second time without Sherlock Holmes.
His finger still clutched the trigger of the gun he’d used to end Moriarty’s life, no way in hell anyone could make him give that back. It was all he had left to remind him that he hadn’t failed in every aspect.