Here we go, the Epilogue:

Disclaimer: see prologue. Title from Mike Oldfield's Moonlight Shadow.

Epilogue: I watched your vision forming

Sorcha worked for hours and hours to find the surveillance tapes. But, moments after Jim had opened the door to the roof, the cameras all blacked out. Nothing of the exchange had been taped. Nothing told them what had happened to Jim's body.

A week later, on the day before Sherlock's funeral, Sorcha and Sebastian sat in Jim's office on the floor, sharing a bottle of red wine between themselves. It was their own little goodbye to their boss, their own little wake to mourn over James Moriarty.

Sorcha had just take a sip when she said, "I'm leaving tomorrow."

Sebastian nodded, "Where are you going?"

"I don't know. Somewhere far away from London. Maybe Cuba? Mexico? The U.S.? Somewhere. I don't wanna stay in England. What are you going to do?"

Sebastian shrugged, "I don't know. Keep the empire running as good as I can, I guess. Jim's legacy. I will try my best so his work was not in vain. I could use your help, though."

"No. I don't wanna deal with this. All these scumbags, thinking they were equal when they weren't worth licking the dirt off his shoes. The empire can go down for all I care."

"I understand. I… can do it alone, I think." Sebastian reached for the bottle. "I'm going to the funeral tomorrow."

"Why?"

"I want to see Watson grieve. I want to know we are not alone."

"We are alone, Bastian. Nobody but us and Gloria is grieving for Jim."

"Well, I'll go anyways. If only to… see the stone and convince myself it's all true."

Sorcha was gone when Sebastian woke up. She had left him a mobile phone number where he could call should the need arise, but had left both her HTC and her emergency phone behind. She had taken nothing else. Leaving behind everything. If she could, good for her. But Sebastian couldn't.

So later that day, he hid behind a tree at the cemetery and watch as John Watson poured his heart out to the cold stone that marked Sherlock Holmes' grave. He felt with the man, although he couldn't help but despise him. So, when Watson was finally done, he noticed with sick delight that he was limping again, slightly.

He was just about to leave his hiding place when he saw it. Or, him. Sherlock Holmes, walking over to his own gravestone. He looked sad, probably affected by all those things Watson had just said. His look was absent as he ran his hand over the stone, just like Watson had done.

Sebastian didn't know what to do, he didn't know how to feel. Sherlock Holmes was alive. Somehow, Sherlock Holmes had cheated death. Death, and the Devil himself. Jim had died to assure Sherlock would, too. And now here was Sherlock, walking and prancing, while Jim was… hell, gone. No, this couldn't be true, this just could not be true. Sebastian noticed his heart beat was accelerating, and his trigger finger itched. He wanted to kill him. He wanted to kill that fucking bastard for taking Jim from them. Had he a gun with him, the man would drop down dead now. But he had gone out completely unarmed.

Well, he was a soldier, and he could wait. Wait until the time was right.

So he waited until Sherlock had left the cemetery, and followed him. He wanted to know where he went, so that he could strike at any given moment. Jim had been obsessed with bringing Sherlock down; now, Sebastian would take over. The legacy.

And he would not rest until Sherlock Holmes drew his last breath.

And he would make John Watson watch again.

What Sebastian Moran didn't know was that he was being watched.

And done.

IlCapo, I have another fic planned. We'll see if I feel like publishing it... Thanks for your review, though.

I wanna thank each and everyone of you for reviewing and making me continue this. This is your story, guys.

Love and Respect,

Fergs