Sherlock (BBC) Fanfiction: This is the scene

[tellytubby101]

This is the scene.

Summary: This is the scene. How does it end? Various The Great Game endings. Short one shot.

A/N: I wrote this very quickly because I think there are several versions of The Great Game's ending, and only one of them seem realistic. Luckily, Sherlock isn't real.

*

This is the scene:

John, crouched, breathless.

Sherlock, stock still, tense. Gun in hand.

Moriarty sneering with his eyes, daring him to shoot.

The gun is pointed at a vest. The vest is hiding explosives.

Sherlock and John share a look.

Red dots dance on their heads and torsos. Snipers, waiting for an order.

Everyone holds their breath as the trigger is pressed.

 

What you want to happen:

The bullet does not miss. It hits, there is an explosion.

John is quick, pushing Sherlock into the pool.

The water them protects from the worst of the damage.

They make it out alive. Moriarty is dead.

The Game is over, but they won.

 

What you think will happen:

The bullet does not miss. It hits, there is an explosion.

John is quick, pushing Sherlock into the pool.

The water protects them from the worst of the damage.

They make it out alive, though injured.

Moriarty’s body is never found.

The Game continues.

 

What should happen:

Sherlock shoots Moriarty, once. In the head.

A kill shot. Taking advantage of the shock, Sherlock takes John and runs.

They survive, and the Game is over.

{We all know that’s not really an option though.}

 

What really happens:

The bullet misses. Sherlock shoots again, quickly.

It hits the vest, but there is no explosion.

Moriarty laughs, noise echoing.

“Would I really endanger myself by putting Johnny-boy in explosives?”

Another gunshot, muted. Not Sherlock’s. John screams.

“The danger has always been from the snipers.”

Blood pours from a wound in John’s arm. Skin paling dramatically.

“I control the snipers.” Another shot, another scream.

This time, Sherlock’s. He drops the handgun and it clatters.

The red spots dance over their chests and temples. Not as red as the blood.

A rapid succession of soft gunfire is heard. Moriarty leaves the bodies.

The Game is over, and Sherlock and John lost.

*

Comments

[m-darkhorse.livejournal.com]

That was strangely horrible. Your writing was superb as always, but it was very surprising to have so much angst in such a short fanfic. Wow. I feel slightly out of balance.

[tellytubby101.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much! :) I feel like I haven't actually been writing enough angst/death!fic, so I churned this out. :D

[mazaher.livejournal.com]

Bearhug *definitely* earned, and probably also needed. As for myself, I can stand almost anything (keyword "almost") if it makes sense, and this does. Because when you're in a battlefield, you know from the begininng that who will win in the end is death.
Thank you.

[tellytubby101.livejournal.com]

Thank you for the comment! ♥ And yes, I completely agree - there's an irony that the only constant in life is death. ^^