(Sherlock's POV)
I walked through the doors leading to the indoor pool at exactly midnight, the heels of my shoes echoing off the tile. It was quiet- serene. The smell of chlorine was overwhelming. I walked slowly towards the shallow end of the pool, looking up. The viewing gallery was still dark. Squinting my eyes, I strained to see into it- but to no avail. I allowed my face to relax, reaching into my pocket and pulling out the missile plans. I hadn't returned them like I had told John I had.
"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." I spoke loudly to the empty room, knowing full well that my man in question was nearby. I turned in a slow circle, waiting for a response. When my back was to the pool, I heard a door about halfway down the hall open and close. I looked over my shoulder, still holding the stick. The blood drained from my face and my mouth hung open in shock.
"Evening." John's voice rang throughout the room, echoing slightly. My hand began to lower slightly in shock. John was Moriarty? "This is a turn-up, isn't it Sherlock?"
"John..." My voice was soft and weak, and I hated it. "What the hell..." I had thought this man to be my friend until now. Had he just been playing his part this whole time? Stupid Sherlock. Stupid, stupid. You're getting slow. Sentiment has blinded you.
"Bet you never saw this coming." John's horrified face matched my own as he pulled back the big coat he was wearing to reveal a bomb strapped to his chest. I sucked in a breath, not sure if I was frightened or horrified. John wasn't betraying me: Moriarty had captured him. But then again, there was a chance he could die now. A red laser danced over the bomb on his chest. They're in the viewing gallery... I knew it. I began to fill with nothing but pure dread- something was very, very wrong.
"What... would you like me... to make him say... next?" It was then that I saw the earpiece John was wearing- they must be relaying the words for him to say. One word off, and the sniper would shoot, blowing the both of us up. "Gottle o' gear, gottle o' gear... gottle o' gear."
"Stop it." I contained my fury, knowing it would do neither of us any good.
"Nice touch, this: the pool where little Carl died. I stopped him..." John cringed, and I knew the next words were going to be unpleasant. "I can stop John Watson, too." John glanced down at his chest, and I knew what Moriarty was saying. "Stop his heart. (Y/n) (L/n)'s, too."
For the first time in a long time, I was terrified. Truly, utterly terrified. I prayed that wherever (Y/n) was, she was safe. I gulped. She hadn't come back from the store before I had left. I turned on the spot, trying to look everywhere at once. "Who are you?"
I heard a door open from the far end of the pool and I immediately turned to face it, heart pounding. A man in a suit and tie walked through, tugging on the arm of a girl, dragging her along. I couldn't see him properly- my view was obstructed by a column.
"I gave you my number, Sherlock." An Irish voice, soft and lilting, carried across the room to meet me. "I thought you might call."
As he rounded the corner, I got a better look at him. Sharply dressed, immaculate dark hair, murderous dark eyes. My eyes turned to his partner, and I inhaled sharply. "(Y/n)..." John's eyes widened when he heard her name, but he couldn't move in fear of getting shot. She looked awful. All of the spark was gone from her eyes, leaving her looking lifeless and emotionless. She didn't look physically harmed in any way. There were no lasers pointed at her. That was slightly relieving, but seeing Moriarty with his hand on her... I stiffened, angry.
"Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket...?" At Moriarty's words. I reached into my suit pocket and pulled out the pistol. I had shed my trench coat before I left the flat. "...Or are you just happy to see me?"
I raised the gun, keeping it steadily pointed at his chest. "Both." He stopped walking, forcing (Y/n) to as well.
Despite my gun, he looked back at me unafraid. "Jim Moriarty. Hi!" I tilted my head and got a closer look at him, eyes narrowed. I said nothing, playing dumb- he seemed disappointed. "Jim? Jim from the hospital?" Jim began to walk towards the deep end again. (Y/n) stood there, unmoving. I brought up my other hand to support the gun. Jim turned to face me, biting his lip. "Of course, (Y/n) here knows me as James." He walked up behind her and spoke softly into her ear. "We had a fun couple of dates, didn't we, dear?" He tried to snake his arm around her waist.
She clenched her jaw, refusing to look over at him. "Don't touch me." She hissed. I raised my eyebrows in surprise. So this was the mystery man she had been out with. I chuckled. She didn't have feelings for him then, and she certainly won't now. Why do you care, Sherlock? My internal monologue fought with itself. I don't know. Shut up, Sherlock. Focus.
Jim tutted, feigning hurt. "Ouch." He clutched his heart, then grinned a malicious smile. "Look at her eyes, Sherlock. So vacant. Hello?" He waved a hand in front of her face, but she still refused to move. He lowered his hand. "Emotionless. That's how she copes, you know. She can detach herself from her emotions for as long as she needs to. She could kill a man right now and not even blink. Makes her the perfect partner, wouldn't you say? I might just have to keep her."
I let out a low growl, tightening my grip on the pistol. "I won't let that happen." I looked (Y/n) in the eyes, hoping for something. Anything. Her eyes flickered towards me and she gave a small smile, letting me know she was okay. I let out a quiet breath of relief.
Jim chuckled. He had turned around, leaving (Y/n) behind again, and made his way to the corner of the pool. "I've given you a glimpse, Sherlock. Just a teensy glimpse of what I've got going out there in the big bad world. I'm a specialist, you see." He gasped, as if he had just noticed a connection, but it was obviously faked. "Like you!"
"Consulting criminal." I said softly. "Brilliant."
Our conversation continued, both of us on edge, going back and forth. I chose my words carefully, fearful that a wrong word or action on my part could kill John or (Y/n). I was determined not to let that happen, no matter the cost. Eventually, I had had enough of our banter. I took one hand off the pistol and grabbed the memory stick, holding it out. "Take it."
"Huh? Oh! That!" He strolled past John and (Y/n) and reach for the flash drive, grinning like a schoolboy. He brought it up to his mouth and kissed it. You have what you want... let us go. "Boring!" I looked up in shock when I heard him sing the word. "I could have got those anywhere." With that, he threw the drive into the pool nonchalantly, no doubt destroying them. I remained unnerved, standing as still as I could.
With a sudden start, John turned and threw himself onto Moriarty's back, wrapping one arm around his neck and another around his chest. I took a step back in surprise. "Sherlock, run!" He yelled. I didn't- rather, I stood there in shock, my face matching (Y/n)'s. I looked up anxiously, wondering what the sniper would do.
"Good!" Jim laughed. "Very good!"
"If your sniper pulls that trigger, Mr. Moriarty, we both go up." John whispered savagely.
Jim continued calmly. "Isn't he sweet? I can see why you like having him around. But people do get so sentimental about their pets." John grimaced angrily and tightened his hold on Jim. "They're so touchingly loyal. But... oops! You've rather shown your hand there, Doctor Watson."
He chuckled, and I cocked my head in confusion. But then I saw it- a red beam coming down from the viewing area, no doubt pointed straight at my forehead. I locked eyes with John and shook my head slightly. John released his grip, putting his hands up in surrender.
Moriarty straightened his jacket, gesturing at it. "Westwood!" He scoffed indignantly. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes- this was no time to complain about his designer suit. Although, when one is a raging psychopath, there is time for little else, I suppose.
"James, stop this." (Y/n) spoke for the first time.
Jim turned around in surprise. "Ah, the lady speaks!"
She stiffened under his gaze. "Let them go." She pleaded softly.
Jim looked her up and down. "Hmm." Ignoring her request, he turned back to me. "D'you know what happens if you don't leave me alone, Sherlock, to you?"
"Oh, let me guess." I said, feigning boredom. "I get killed."
"Kill you?" He grimaced. "No, don't be obvious." His eyes shifted back and forth quickly, as if thinking: Man, I hope no one else saw Sherlock being so obvious. The thought almost made me chuckle. "I mean, I'm gonna kill you anyway someday. I don't want to 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 up and down my body once, and his voice became suddenly vicious. "I'll burn the heart out of you." He practically snarled his words, but by the end of his sentence, he looked almost sorry. Regretful, even.
I froze. (Y/n)'s voice rang in my ears as I remembered what she had said to me a few days ago. You're a cruel and heartless man, Sherlock Holmes. When I managed to speak, my voice was soft. "I've been reliably informed I don't have one." I risked a glance at (Y/n) – she was looking at the ground, refusing to meet my gaze.
Jim followed my gaze to her, then looked back at me with a knowing smile. "But we both know that's not quite true." I blinked involuntarily, and Moriarty knew he had won. He pulled out a pen and started writing something on his hand. I didn't bother asking what it was. "Well, I'd better be off." He turned, but I kept my pistol steady in case I needed to use it. He walked straight past John, still writing on his hand. All of us stood still as statues.
As he walked by (Y/n), his pace slowed. What is he up to? Quick as lightning, he placed the hand with the writing on her neck and pulled her in for a kiss. All of us stiffened in disgust, including (Y/n). My chest blazed as if it was on fire, and I resisted the urge to pull the trigger right then and there. After a moment, I realized she wasn't pulling away- she was melting into it. Oh my God... she's enjoying it... She continued to fall. Wait, no she's not... she's passing out... Christ, he's done something to her.
Moriarty pulled away, grinning, and caught (Y/n) in his arms. She hung there limply, unconscious, but breathing. My anger boiled over, clouding my judgement and messing with my head. There was writing on her neck now, but I couldn't make it out from here. James Moriarty, if you touch her one more time, I swear to God I will murder you.
John could tell I was getting angry and knew I was about to do something irrational. "Sherlock..." He mumbled in a warning.
Jim glowed with pride. "Lovely girl, isn't she? I'll show you she's mine, Sherlock." He grinned, and then proceeded to throw her unconscious body into the deep end of the pool.
"(Y/N)!" John and I shouted in unison, both heading for the pool.
"Stop!" Moriarty called out, and we both froze. "One more step and John Watson dies." My head whipped back and forth between the pool and Moriarty in frustration. She didn't have long- I would have to talk my way out of this quickly. I whipped up my gun again, pointing it between his eyes.
"Let me save her." My voice was barely a whisper. She was sinking slowly, and my heart felt like someone had taken a knife to it. Come on...
"Hmm." Moriarty hummed in amusement and pretended to consider my offer. "No."
"Let me save her!" I took a half step forward, but moved back quickly. My breathing became rapid and I panicked- I couldn't choose between her and John.
"Why?"
"LET ME SAVE HER!" I demanded. Tears rolled down my face, shocking not only myself but John as well. Moriarty cocked an eyebrow expectantly. Clicking on the safety, I dropped my gun, letting it clatter to the floor, and raised my hands in surrender. "Please." My voice quivered, and I mentally chided myself for being so weak.
He looked me up and down, then turned on his heels and walked away. "She'll be your downfall, Sherlock Holmes." I took this as my cue. Stripping off my suit jacket, I dove in after (Y/n).
I resurfaced, holding onto her tightly. By the time I had gotten to her, John had stripped off the bomb vest and skidded it halfway down the hall. I passed her to him, and he hauled her out of the pool and immediately began performing CPR. I clambered out of the pool frantically, rushing to her side. Tears were still running down my face, and water dripped off my clothes. "Come on, (Y/n). Don't... be... dead."
John was going to give her mouth-to-mouth, but as it turned out, he didn't have to. She woke up, sputtering and coughing up water. We stepped back for a moment so she could get everything out of her system. When she was done, she rolled onto her back, breathing heavily. I grinned with delight- her eyes had their usual spark in them again.
Despite having just drowned, she laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. "Hello, boys." She sat up, propping herself up with one arm.
"Good to have you back." John said fondly, clapping his hand on her shoulder. I said nothing, still soaking in the fact (no pun intended) that she was alive.
She spoke for me. "Come here, you big idiot." With that, she pulled me into a hug, ignoring the fact that I was dripping wet. Although, she was as well, I supposed it didn't matter. I wrapped my arms around her tightly, wanting to keep her there and never let go. As long as she was here, she was mine- not Moriarty's. I'm never letting her out of my sight again. "Thank you." She whispered.
I hadn't registered the tears of joy that were sliding down my face until now. I held her gently, giving her a kiss on the forehead. "I'm glad you're okay." I felt her cheeks grow warmer. John, who had walked away a few moments prior, returned with my suit jacket.
"Here." He said, holding it out to (Y/n). She was shivering, her wet clothes sticking to her body. I couldn't help but enjoy the view for a moment before chiding myself once again. Stop it- sentiment will do nothing but distract you.
"Thanks." She said, smiling sweetly at John. "For everything." She put on the jacket over her t-shirt.
He nodded. "Now," he said. "Let's get the hell out of here."
We practically ran out of the pool and into the cold night air. I went in front, with (Y/n) and John following closely behind. A few steps out the door, out of nowhere, John froze in place. "Sherlock..." He said, fear riddling his voice.
I whirled around, worried there were more snipers. "What?" John was staring intensely at (Y/n)'s neck, and she looked absolutely terrified. I trotted over and looked to see what the problem was. My face went pale and my blood went cold at the sight. How could I have missed it before? There, pressed on her neck in impermeable ink, was the word BURNED.
Moriarty was right. He had found a way to burn me.