Part Thirty-Four: Finale.

Sherlock glanced at his mobile again, his worry growing slightly. Thea hadn't been in contact and him and John were late for their dinner with Matthew Hemingway. She should have been sending snarky texts threatening to send Mycroft or Lestrade after them.

Something was wrong.

Beside him, John was looking out the darkened windows of the cab, no doubt mulling over Andrew West's murder. It had been the fiancée's brother – typical – and the Bruce-Partington plans were now safe in Sherlock's pocket, on a drive smaller than his forefinger. The game… it had to have been a distraction from Mycroft's case. It was the only explanation that made sense. Otherwise the game was just a simple, strange greeting from his newest playmate, and that wasn't Moriarty's style at all. He garnered the attention he craved, yes, but it was more than that. It had to be. It had to be about showing the power and control he held, showing the extent of his reach. And if he could distract Sherlock from a delicious, national breach case, he had complete control.

Sherlock's mobile buzzed, and his eyes glossed over the caller ID. Mycroft.

"Brother mine, I see the dentist was successful. Worry not, I've solved your case," he answered quickly in one breath, and John started in the seat next to him, turning his attention to the detective.

"It's not about the case," his older brother answered gravely, and Sherlock's heart, frozen as it was, fluttered. "Is Thea with you?"

Sherlock paused, "No. She went back to the flat this morning, she's having a friend over tonight. Why?"

He could hear Mycroft suck on his cheek worriedly, "My secretary tried to contact her hours ago to schedule tea with her. She's not called back, and you know she's quick to respond."

Guilt and worry built up in Sherlock's chest, but he kept it under control, his voice level as he replied evenly, "I'm sure she's just exhausted and fell asleep. She's not slept in days."

"I hope you're right, Sherlock," Mycroft said in a tone that implied he was disappointed, "If something's happened to her…" But before another word was said, the elder Holmes brother ended the call, and Sherlock was left staring at the phone.

John was looking at him with worry in his green-grey eyes. "What's that about?"

Sherlock leaned forward in his seat and called up to the cabbie, "I'll double the fare if you can get us there in half-time. I'm with the police – I can assure you'll be in no trouble."

The cabbie nodded, and the car lurched forward as they sped to Baker Street. Sherlock pulled out his phone. "Thea. Something's wrong. She's not responding to calls or texts." He pressed the phone to his ear and waited for the recipient to pick up.

"Hello?"

"Matthew, hello, this is Sherlock Holmes," Sherlock said, the amicable words tasting foreign in his mouth. If it were anyone but Thea's boyfriend, he would have used more force. "Is Thea with you, by chance? I can't get a hold of her and it's important."

His daughter's boyfriend suddenly became quiet, "Oh god, I knew it. I should have called the police."

"What? What is it?" the detective pressed.

"She sent me a text around noon, it seemed weird. I thought she might be in trouble, but I wasn't sure. She usually tells me when things are getting dangerous."

Sherlock let out a harsh breath, "Right. Thank you." And just as he was about to hang up, he paused, and said, "You'll be the first to know when I find her. I promise you."

"Thank you," Matthew whispered, then the line went dead.

The cab hadn't even stopped when Sherlock opened the door, throwing the money to John as he rushed to the front door of 221B. The door slammed against the wall and he dashed up the stairs, taking them two and three at a time, before he found himself in their flat. His eyes scanned every crevice of the room. She'd cleaned the kitchen (he found himself briefly impressed with how immaculate she'd managed to make it) and moved his equipment to the table by the front windows. The bookshelves were neat now, and the skull was looking out to the room.

The violin gave him pause.

He walked to it carefully, noting its position. It was still on his chair, but in a different position now with the bow on the floor. But the room was in perfect order. She hadn't been forcefully taken. There was a bit of relief in that realisation.

John walked into the flat and looked around. "No signs of a struggle."

"No." Sherlock closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "But a man was here, you can smell the expensive cologne all the way from the hall. She went with him, but I'm not sure it was willingly. Outside, did you notice?"

"Notice what?"

"The smell of cigarette smoke, the multiple butts lying on the curb."

John thought it over, "But the flat doesn't smell of smoke. So, there were two people, probably two men?"

Sherlock nodded once, "Three, I would think. A driver, a brute…" He stood at his chair and looked to the wall with the web. "And Moriarty."

John looked back at him with wide eyes. "Hang on, Moriarty? How the hell – "

"Think about it," Sherlock said hurriedly, crossing to the army doctor. "Who else would have reason to kidnap my daughter? He's begging for attention now. We only heard four of the five pips – this is the final test."

The doctor let out a breath and paced for a moment before nodding. "Right. Okay, I'm going to Scotland Yard, see if I can convince him to get a task force or something together." He took his gun from his waistband and checked the magazine before slipping it back into the gun and feeding a bullet through. He put it back in his waistband and gave Sherlock a nod of the head before he was out the door again. "Keep me updated, Sherlock!"

The detective didn't say a word. Instead, he pulled out his laptop from the mess of equipment on the table and took it to the kitchen. He logged in and pulled up The Science of Deduction, his fingers hovering carefully over the keyboard.

He had a flash of memories of Thea, blinding him for a moment. The first time he laid eyes on her, bundled up in the hospital bassinet with eyes that held centuries of wisdom. The day he left her behind, hearing her screaming in his mother's arms as he walked to his car without looking back. The holidays and birthdays he'd shown up so high that he couldn't remember he had a daughter, much less what her name would be. The day that he sobered up, Thea had come to mind, a daughter he'd hardly known and had failed miserably all the same. He wasn't meant to be a father; that much was obvious. But he had never even tried to be – he'd never tried for her. He had vowed on that day that he would never fail her again.

He refused to fail her now.

Found. The Bruce-Partington plans. Please collect. The Pool. One hour.

Thea had experienced several different drugs in her life, but this was something else. She lifted her head sleepily, trying not to fall asleep against the rocking motions of the car, but she was finding it terribly difficult. In the haze of her mind, she fought against the affects of the drug by trying to diagnose what she'd been knocked out with. It had been a needle, so a tranquilizer was most likely. Judging by how dark it was now, she estimated she'd been asleep for a few hours at most. Her limbs still felt numb, but she could still use them. With that, she searched her mind for an answer.

"Benzodiazepine," she mumbled, and she heard a small chuckle to her right. She looked over to see James Moriarty smiling, almost fondly, and looking at her phone.

"You're a quick one, Miss Holmes," he complimented, "I figured it'd take you longer to come out of it." Thea groaned as she straightened, trying to keep her head up. She glanced at her phone and he noticed, "You're quite the popular gal. Eleven missed calls, six of those from a Mr Hemingway."

Thea swallowed back the bile that had risen in her throat and squeezed her eyes shut in an effort to clear the haze. The brute from earlier was in the passenger seat of the car, but a slimmer, darker haired man was driving. Through the rear-view mirror, she could see his eyes were pale blue, almost like John's, and he had a single scar on his forehead, "What can I say? I have a certain charm."

"Unlike your father, it would seem," Moriarty half-sang, and he looked up through the window as the car pulled to a stop. "We're here."

Thea turned her eyes to their location and felt her blood go cold. "The pool." It was an old, brown brick building with graffiti covering multiple surfaces, and the roof looked as if it were to collapse at any second.

"Sherly requested it, can you believe it?" he laughed, his voice rising in glee. "So fitting, and so dramatic. The stage for the final act. He's a man of taste, your father."

Thea bit her lip. "Dramatic flair was always his specialty."

The driver and the brute got out of the car and opened their doors, and while Moriarty got out immediately, Thea hesitated slightly. The brute took this as defiance, and he reached in and grabbed her. She cried out and struggled against him as he pulled her out of the vehicle, twisting her arm so it was behind her.

"Stop – please! I'm not going to run away, you tosser, I'm not stupid," she shouted as tears of pain stung her eyes.

"Lionel, be a dear and let go of Thea. She's our guest," James said warningly as his eyes locked onto him, and the brute instantly released his grip on her arm. Thea rubbed it gingerly as she felt the bruises already forming.

"Bloody hell, nearly snapped me in half, great lout."

James gave a sinister half-smile and stuck out his arm for her to take. "Shall we?"

She eyed him warily, still rubbing her arm, before stepping forward to take it, making sure to leave some space between them. "I don't suppose I have much of a choice now."

He led them to the doors of the pool, and Thea glanced back to see the brute and driver going through the trunk of the car. Right before Moriarty led her inside, she saw a rifle's carrying case being pulled out, and she felt her heart drop to her stomach.

The pool itself was quite large, with red- and blue-themed changing rooms along both sides. There was a second floor, small and narrow, with seating so onlookers might watch the swimmers, most likely for competitions such as the one Carl Powers had died in. Lockers adorned the wall closest to them, and large windows were carved into the walls high above the pool. The air smelled deeply of chlorine and other chemicals, and it was heavy compared to the chill outside. Steam rolled across the surface of the water, churning in the confines of the concrete.

"Isn't it marvellous? Truly brings back memories," Moriarty said giddily, an insane smile plastered to his handsome face. Thea gave a small shudder as her situation slowly began to sink in, and she felt her breath catching in her throat. He pulled her arm slightly, and she was forced to follow him. "Come along, Thea. I've got a surprise for you."

Across the pool, they entered an office, and inside, Thea nearly collapsed to the floor. "John!"

The army doctor was sitting off to one side, wearing a large winter coat and an earpiece. She went to embrace him, but Moriarty quickly announced, "I wouldn't do that…"

John's mouth was a hard line, and he opened the coat to reveal enough explosives to bring down the building. Thea fell to her knees and pressed her hands to her mouth. "You're the fifth victim."

He nodded, and James walked around her, his hands in his pockets again, his shoulders hunched as he said cheerily, "He can't say anything – I've instructed him not to. See? Watch." He pulled small device from his pocket and spoke into it, "Say 'Hello', Dr Watson."

"Hello," the army doctor said stiffly, hard lines in his forehead.

"Tell Thea 'If your father tries anything funny, I'll blow him to pieces.'"

"If your father tries anything funny, I'll blow him – "

"Enough!" Thea cried. "I've heard enough. I understand." Her eyes flitted to Moriarty's. "How do I fit into all of this? John's the initial leverage, but I'm afraid I don't see my role in this, the final scene of the great game."

Moriarty tutted, "See, I've thought a lot about that." He began pacing the office as he spoke, "Initially, I thought I'd tie weights to your ankles and push you into the deep end, drowning you in front of your father. Then I thought I'd strap you with explosives instead, but the thought of Sherly thinking John is his enemy, even for a moment, is just too juicy to pass up… So, my dear…" And he pulled a pistol, a 9mm Browning Hi-Power that was typically used by the military, from the desk nearby. "You're just my fun project. I don't really know what I'll do with you, and that's just going to be part of the fun! I figure your father always has an explanation for all of my… tests. This is one puzzle he won't be able to solve." And he waved the gun haphazardly in the air before smiling, "But we have to get into our places! The show's about to start."

Sherlock walked slowly into the pool, his coat hanging on a hook outside. He had the thumb drive in his breast pocket, and he touched it reassuringly before glancing around his surroundings. It was rather warm in the room, but steam rolled lazily off the water's surface. The upper balconies, where families of swimmers would presumably sit, was noticeably darkened. He was sure it wasn't without cause.

With careful fingers, he fished the drive from his pocket and held it in the air, speaking loudly. "Brought you a little getting-to-know-you present. Oh, that's what it's all been for, hasn't it? All your little puzzles; making me dance – all to distract me from this." He turned in a slow circle, brandishing the small prize between his fingers. With his back to the far wall, he heard a door open, footsteps walking toward him. He turned his head to the noise, shock taking over his emotions as he saw Dr John Watson walking toward him, a heavy coat around his shoulders, hands in his pockets.

"Evening," the doctor said quietly, his mouth still a tight line.

"John…" Sherlock muttered, his hand slowly lowering. "What the…"

"Bet you never saw this coming."

Sherlock shook his mind from its disbelief and walked slowly toward the army doctor he'd believed was his friend. But there was something wrong with this picture…

And suddenly John was opening his heavy winter coat, revealing an entanglement of wires and explosives strapped to his chest. From somewhere in the upper balcony, there came a red laser pointed directly at the heart of the bomb – the end of a sniper rifle.

"What… would you like me… to make him… say next?" John slowly narrated, but Sherlock could hardly contain his relief that his only friend, for that's what he considered the doctor, would not betray him. His eyes moved everywhere but John, trying to decipher where the laser was coming from. "Gottle o' geer… Gottle o' geer… Gottle o' geer…" he recited, his voice breaking with the last delivery.

"Stop it." Sherlock hissed, taking a sharp breath to keep himself calm.

John continued, "Nice touch, this: the pool where little Carl died. I stopped him." The laser suddenly rose to the good doctor's heart, and he sighed upon hearing the next words, "I can stop John Watson, too. Stop his heart."

"Who are you?" Sherlock called out, almost hauntingly, and there came the sound of another door opening, a voice calling out through the echo of the pool…

Thea could hear her father in the pool. She had spent the last twenty minutes trying to solve this final puzzle, trying in vain to end their problems here and now. But with Moriarty's gun pressed into her ribs, she could think of nothing but how unfair it was.

It was stupid, really, to be thinking of the justice of life when a month and a half ago, she'd made peace with her potential death at the other end of a crossbow. But it crossed her mind anyway. She glanced slightly at Moriarty, memorising the small details to keep herself grounded. He was a little scruffy like he'd forgotten to shave that morning, and his Adam's apple was slightly more protruded than normal. He wasn't used to holding a gun, but his hand was steady nonetheless – finger off the trigger but with the safety off.

"Almost showtime," he purred slightly in her ear, his lips cool against her skin, and she felt her heartbeat quicken. He'd been speaking into his device, playing with her father's head with John as his voice.

"Will I be allowed to speak to him? Before…" her voice cracked, and she forced herself to breathe as it felt like the walls were caving in on her.

He mulled it over before saying, "One sentence. Make it count. And only when I tell you to speak."

She nodded and felt tears spike behind her eyes as she heard Sherlock's voice reverberating off the walls. Then Moriarty pushed her through the door ahead of him, the gun now pressed into the middle of her back. She walked forward slowly, her eyes trained on her father, his face betraying little emotion.

But she could see the fury in his eyes. She could feel his protective nature coming from him in waves.

"I gave you my number…" James called out behind her, in mocking surprise, "I thought you might call."

Thea walked slowly along the deep end of the pool and felt her breath hitching in her chest. She tried to calm herself, keep her mind focused on the game. It wasn't over yet.

"Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?" Moriarty joked, and Sherlock pulled out the gun in his trouser pocket. He kept it at his side for the time being, watching his daughter, his greatest pride, walk with a gun to her back.

"Both."

"I see we're men of similar taste, then." He smirked. "James Moriarty… Hi!" The consulting criminal stopped Thea at the edge of the pool. John was unmoving, an afterthought in the space between Sherlock Holmes and James Moriarty. "Oh. Did I really make such a fleeting impression? But then, I suppose, that was rather the point." When Sherlock didn't respond, his jaw only tightening, Moriarty put a hand to Thea's shoulder and pressed himself against her back. She closed her eyes as her hands trembled uncontrollably at her sides. "I've had such a pleasure getting to know your pretty daughter, Sherlock. She's a treasure, really. Intelligent, witty, compassion running through her very veins… Nothing like you, I'm afraid."

"A disappointment to you, I'm sure," Sherlock responded cautiously, his hawk-like eyes watching Moriarty's every move. His grip on his own gun had tightened significantly.

"Oh never. I rather like her. She's earned my respect." Then he pressed his cheek to her hair and her eyes opened to find her father's, "I don't typically like getting my own hands dirty – I'm sure you've guessed that by now. I'd really hate having to pull the trigger on her. Such a waste of beauty and talent…"

"So why do this?"

Moriarty smiled and stepped to one side of Thea, the gun pressed into her ribs again. Sherlock took the opportunity to point his Browning at the Irishman, one hand cupped underneath to support the other that would fire the gun, if necessary. "Oh, you're predictable. Under the circumstances, however… I suppose it's only right." He paused and gave a menacing smile in Sherlock's direction. "I've given you a glimpse, Sherlock, just a teensy glimpse of what I've got going on out there in the big bad world. I'm a specialist, you see… like you!" He said it as if he were surprised by the realisation.

The detective clicked his tongue, "'Dear Jim. Please will you fix it for me to get rid of my lover's nasty sister?' 'Dear Jim. Please will you fix it for me to disappear to South America?'"

James strolled slightly toward the detective, stopping approximately two metres from John with his pistol now aimed at Thea's heart from a distance. "Just so."

Thea cleared her throat and called out softly, "A consulting criminal." James's head whipped around to look at her with deadly eyes, but the words continued tumbling from her mouth, "I coined the title. It's clever; it's what we do for Scotland Yard, but you do it for criminals and – "

Moriarty stalked her, his gun now pressed firmly against her chest, against her pounding heart. "I told you to wait. I've been NOTHING – " he screamed the word, and she felt her pulse in her ears, " – but kind to you. If you cannot keep to the approved dialogue, I'll kill you and be done with it. Then you'll have nothing to say to Sherly." She nodded, chin quivering slightly in fright. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see John clenching his fists. He was powerless to protect them.

"You will refrain from talking to my daughter in such a manner," Sherlock threatened quietly, his eyes intense against Moriarty's back. "Or I'm afraid I'll have to cut our conversation quite short."

James turned his head to one side, looking into the pool between Thea and Sherlock before giving a soft chuckle. "Yes… Of course. What a shame that would be, indeed." He turned back to the detective and ran a hand through his hair, smoothing it back as he took a deep breath. "So sorry, now where were we? Ah… No one ever gets to me. And no one ever will."

"I did," Sherlock replied gloatingly, cocking the pistol. His eyes darted to Thea, speaking volumes where they could not.

"You've come the closest," Moriarty corrected, and he set his mouth in a line. "And now you're in my way."

"Thank you."

"Didn't mean it as a compliment."

"Yes, you did."

James shrugged in agreement. "Yeah, okay, I did. But the flirting's over, Sherlock," His voice became high-pitched as he sang, "Daddy's had enough now…" Thea watched with bated breath as he stared down her father, stoic in the face of insanity. "I've shown you what I can do. I cut loose all those people, all those little problems, even thirty million quid just to get you to come out and play. So take this as a friendly warning, Sherly. Back off." He paused and smiled slowly. "Although I have loved this – this little game of ours."

"People have died," Sherlock stated in a harsh voice.

"That's what people DO!" James shouted, and Thea clenched her hands tightly as her body tensed, expecting the worst. The echo of his outburst reverberated off the tiled walls, clashing against their skin.

But her father remained quiet, his pistol still aimed between Moriarty's eyes. When the tension had eased, he said quietly, "I will stop you."

Moriarty shook his head and answered flippantly, "No, you won't."

The detective's eyes passed between the good doctor and his only daughter, "Are you both alright?"

Thea, screaming in her own mind, hoped her eyes conveyed the messages she couldn't put into words. If she so much as mouthed something to him, she would die and it would ignite a deadly chain reaction of events. Moriarty seemed to be revelling in the dilemma, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. He strolled behind John and shrugged.

"You can talk, Johnny-boy. Go ahead." Then his eyes slowly flashed to Thea. "You'll get your turn – patience." He said, brandishing the gun. She kept her eyes on her father's, hoping to glean some strength from him.

But John refused to specially obey James, so silence again filled the pool deck. Thea used the time to think of what she'd say to her father, given the chance. It had to be concise, but every word had to carry the message perfectly without raising alarm in Moriarty. When the Irishman became bored of John, he turned to the detective's daughter and smiled. "It's your turn, angel." He lowered his gun and stepped close to her, playing with her hair as his lips curled menacingly. "Make it count."

But before she could even take a breath, John slammed himself against Moriarty, wrapping an arm around his neck and the other around his chest. The detective's daughter stepped back a few paces in shock. The gun flew from Moriarty's hand and she hastily picked it up, aiming it for his heart as she cocked it.

"You both have to run!" John shouted, his arms tight around the maniac as his steely eyes locked with Thea's.

But they stood their ground and Moriarty laughed in delight as he struggled slightly against the doctor. "Good! Very good!"

Sherlock had lowered his pistol, watching the scene unfold almost anxiously, his eyes scanning the balconies for any sign of danger.

"If your sniper pulls that trigger, Mr Moriarty, then we both go up," John growled in a low voice, his mouth close to James's ear.

But the madman only laughed slightly, his eyes meeting Thea's, "Isn't he sweet? I can see why you and Sherlock like having him around. But then, people do get so sentimental about their pets." The doctor angrily pulled him slightly closer, the bomb sandwiched between them, and Moriarty scowled. Thea adjusted her grip on the pistol, her hands surprisingly steady in the heat of the moment. "They're so touchingly loyal… But oops!" James suddenly smiled toward John, "You've rather shown your hand there, Doctor Watson."

And then suddenly John's eyes, pointed at Thea, went wide, his jaw slack as his grip on the criminal loosened. Moriarty looked around at him with triumph, and Thea closed her eyes as she realised the implication. She shook her head and carefully released the hammer of the pistol, lowering it to her side.

In the centre of her forehead, Sherlock could make out the hovering red dot of a rifle's laser.

"Gotcha," Moriarty whistled gleefully as John released him, holding his arms up in defeat and looking up to the balconies, as if silently telling the snipers he did not intend to make another scene.

The Irishman straightened his jacket and comically dusted it off before turning to Sherlock and motioning to the suit. In a matter-of-fact tone, he said, "Westwood," and Sherlock raised an eyebrow in acknowledgment. Then James's attention went back to Sherlock's daughter, and a devilish half-grin adorned his lips. "I'll be taking that, Thea dear." He grazed his hand against hers as he took the pistol from her, and she couldn't hold back the tears any longer as their chance of escaping slipped through her very fingers. The tears fell almost gracefully down her cheeks, and he reached up and wiped away a tear with his thumb before touching it to his lips. "Poor angel. Don't worry, it's almost over. Now, I believe you wanted to say something to Daddy Holmes, hmm?"

Thea nodded once, and he stepped aside, his gun raised and pointed at her heart again. She took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself down. Hysterics would do her no good here. "Papa – " she started, but her voice cracked and she paused to wipe her eyes before trying again, "Whatever you deem necessary, I trust you – always." She brought her ocean-coloured eyes to meet his, hoping it was enough.

A wall crumbled in the stony features of her father's face, one that no one else could see but her, and his mouth twitched with acknowledgment.

"Such a darling, I can see why you decided to take her in after all," James crooned, tilting his head at the detective. "But onto more important business, enemy of mine." He took a few paces toward him, sticking his right hand into his pocket. "D'you know what happens if you don't leave me alone, Sherlock, to you?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, and as if bored, responded, "Oh, let me guess: I get killed."

But Moriarty furrowed his brows. "Killed?" Then he shook his head, "N-no, don't be obvious. I mean, I'm gonna kill you someday. I don't wanna rush it, though. I'm saving it up for something special. No-no-no-no-no. If you don't stop prying, I'll burn you." His eyes ran over the detective, and his tone turned vicious as he snarled, "I'll burn the heart out of you."

Thea's blood went cold, a shiver involuntarily running up her spine. She knew they were dealing with a monster, but the depth of his insanity was deeper than she realised. James Moriarty was something new, something uncharted.

"I've been reliably informed I don't have one," she heard her father retort sarcastically.

"But we both know that's not quite true." Moriarty raised his arms, so they were pointing in the directions of John and Thea. Sherlock blinked involuntarily and the consulting criminal smiled before shrugging. "But I'd best be off. It was so lovely to have a proper chat." He put the pistol in his pocket and turned to walk away, Sherlock's gun still aimed at the back of his head. He brushed Thea's shoulder with his, winking at her as he walked past.

"Catch… you… later." Sherlock articulated, carefully keeping his guard up.

"No you won't!" Moriarty sang as he walked through the far door, and for a moment, no one breathed.

And then everything happened at once. Sherlock set down his pistol before kneeling before John, undoing the straps that kept the doctor in the bomb's clutches. John, head tilting back, was sighing heavily. Thea was paralysed still, the shock holding her upright.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked hurriedly.

"Yeah, yeah," he responded a little too quickly, but soon the jacket was off and Sherlock tossed it away from them, just to the right of where Thea was standing. And her father looked up at her as John ripped the earpiece from his ear, and finally, she turned her head toward him.

Thea's knees buckled, and she fell to the floor, but her father was already there and caught her before she could process it. She was shaking violently, her eyes fixed on the surface of the pool's water. She clung to her father's suit jacket.

"I thought being in front of the crossbow was the most terrifying thing I'd ever experience, but nothing compares to looking into his eyes." Thea looked up at Sherlock. "They're empty, did you notice? They're so cold..."

"Shh," he comforted, pulling her closer. She noticed he, too, was trembling, sending another wave of shock through her body. Her father was not a man to be easily frightened. Behind them, John was bracing himself against one of the stalls, breathing heavily. Sherlock stood, helping Thea to do the same, and held her upright. He nodded to John nervously, "That, er… thing that you, that you did – that, um… you offered to do…"

"You're brave, John Watson," Thea finished, finding her voice again as she stepped from her father's side to kneel beside the good doctor. "Braver than most. We're lucky to have you as a friend."

John was staring ahead of himself, directly across the pool. "I'm glad no one saw that."

Sherlock's brow furrowed in confusion as he leaned over to pick up the pistol, "Hmm?"

Still without meeting their eyes, the army doctor continued, "You, ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People might talk."

Thea found herself chuckling as she replied, "People do little else." She looked at her father to see him half-smiling at their flatmate.

John glanced up at Sherlock before snorting a laugh, leaning forward to stand. But he had barely moved when his face shifted to one of horror.

A red dot hung over his chest.

"Oh, fuck." Thea stood, glancing down to see two aimed at her as well, quickly followed by a third. At the far end of the pool came the clatter of a door opening, and behind her father, peppered with red dots as well, came the figure of James Moriarty yet again. Thea swallowed hard as her father's gaze turned to the gallery above them. He was trying to estimate how many snipers they were up against, but it soon became apparent that there were simply too many.

The madman clapped his hands together, "Sorry! I'm soooooo changeable!" He spread his arms wide and laughed, standing at the edge of the deep end again. "It is a weakness with me but, to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness." He put his hands deep in his pockets again, "You can't be allowed to continue. You just can't. I would try to convince you but…" he laughed again, and his voice became higher-pitched, "…everything I have to say has already crossed your mind!"

Sherlock straightened his stance, flicking his eyes between John and Thea as if asking permission. John nodded slightly, just once, and Thea held her head higher.

"I trust you," she whispered, enough so he could hear. He appeared unfazed, but his eyes… Thea could see oceans of guilt riding in them. She hoped that, in that moment, he would do whatever necessary to keep the madman from wreaking more havoc.

"My answer has probably crossed yours," Sherlock finally answered, and he swivelled around, pointing the pistol first at their nemesis. James Moriarty seemed disappointed at first, but as Thea's father lowered the pistol to the coat of explosives between them, she saw for the first time a flash of anxiety cross Moriarty's face. Her heartbeat was erratic, her palms sweating profusely as the standoff endured. Time stood still, not even the water seemed able to move.

And Thea Holmes took a deep breath, for what she thought was the last time…

End of Series One

TO BE CONTINUED…

AN: THAT'S A WRAP!

I can't say enough how proud I am of this story. It's my baby, my pet. I tend to it every day with care and affection. I'll be a little sad to leave it behind, but I'll also be editing chapters here and there to make them more cohesive, so look out for that in the future.

Thank you all so much for reading, reviewing, and giving me a chance! I wasn't sure exactly how far I would go with this idea, but the more I work with it, the more I fall in love with it. I have so much fun writing about Thea Holmes, and I'm over the moon to finally be heading into the second series of Sherlock. I'm hoping the second part of Thea's insertion will go by much quicker, as a lot of it is going to take place outside of the original scripts (and I really look forward to getting into series three - that will probably be my favorite installment, if I'm being honest). We dive a lot more into her personal life, with Matthew and friends taking more of an important role.

Part two of the Thea Holmes series will be entitled TRUST ME so please keep an eye out for that! Again, thank you all so much for sticking with me! See you all very soon!