(Alice’s POV: )

 Sherlock came in through the door leading into the area we were set up in. The lights were on but, in his view, there was nobody else around. Somewhere between Baker Street and here, he had taken his coat off and was just wearing his suit, so presumably the heating was finally on. He looked quite sharp in his suit, or so I thought. I tried not to focus on that.

He walked slowly towards the shallow end of the pool, probably very aware that the upper gallery where people sit and watch the swimmers was still in darkness. He stopped at the edge of the pool and turned, trying to see up into the area of the gallery above his head. Finally he turned towards the pool again, raising one hand and holding up the memory stick.

“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.” Sherlock said loudly. He gestured with the memory stick, and then began to turn in a slow circle as he waited for a response. When his back was turned to the pool, a door opened halfway down the room. Sherlock looked over his shoulder, still holding the memory stick aloft. And John walked through the door and into the pool area, wrapped snugly in a hooded jacket with his hands tucked into the pockets. He turned and looks at Sherlock as the detective stared back at him in absolute shock. I struggled to stay where I was and not shout out to the two.

“Evening.” John said. Moriarty was softy speaking into a small microphone, smiling manically. Sherlock’s raised hand began to lower slowly but otherwise he didn’t move, still staring over his shoulder in utter disbelief. “This is a turn-up, isn’t it, Sherlock?”

“John. What the h*ll..?” Sherlock asked softly, sounding as shocked as he looked. I turned around to Moriarty, glaring at him directly in the eyes. He still just smirked at me.

“Bet you never saw this coming.” John continued. I turned back around, my fists clenching and unclenching, matching my jaw as the two interacted. Finally Sherlock managed to move, and started to walk slowly towards the man he had believed to be his friend until now. The shock and bewilderment on his face made him look about twelve years old. Then, with a look of despair that matched Sherlock’s, John took his hands from his pockets and pulled open his jacket to reveal the bomb strapped to his chest. A sniper’s laser immediately began to dance around over the bomb. I brought a hand up to cover my mouth. “What... would you like me... to make him say... next?” John asked. Sherlock continued to step towards him but now he was looking everywhere but at John as he tried to see who else was in the area. “Gottle o’ gear... gottle o’ gear... gottle o’ gear.” John added, obviously narrating words spoken into the earpiece. His voice almost broke on the last phrase.

“Stop it.” Sherlock ordered. “Where’s Alice?”

“Nice touch, this: the pool where little Carl died. I stopped him.” John tried not to cringe as he listened to the next words. “I can stop John Watson too.” He looked down at the laser point on his chest. “Stop his heart.”

“Who are you?” Sherlock demanded, turning in all directions. Our door opened and Moriarty led us out, saying in a high-pitched voice,

“I gave you my number.” He gave Sherlock a brief glimpse of his suit, but he moved us behind a column.  “I thought you might call.” He added plaintively. Sherlock turned towards us. Moriarty led us out with his hand in his pocket, his other one holding the gun still being pointed at me. He casually began to stroll alongside the deep end of the pool, heading towards Sherlock and John. All hint of plaintiveness had gone from his voice.

“Is that British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket...” Jim started. Sherlock reached down to his trouser pocket and removed a pistol from it. “...or are you just pleased to see me?” he finished. I wrinkled my nose in disgust, thankfully facing away from him and towards Sherlock.

“Both.” Sherlock stated, aiming the pistol at Moriarty, who threw the pistol in the water and smiling at me; it was my pistol. I looked sadly into the water, hoping I would be able to retrieve it if we all lived. Moriarty didn’t bother threatening me; he knew I was aware of the sniper. Sherlock glanced at me, looking almost as worried as he did when he saw John. He quickly looked back at Jim and he looked back at Sherlock, unafraid.

“Jim Moriarty. Hi!” Jim announced, smiling creepily. Sherlock tilted his head as he looked more closely at the man. Jim acted as if he needed to remind Sherlock who he was. “Jim? Jim from the hospital?” Moriarty hinted, walking along the deep end again. Sherlock brought his other hand up to support the one aiming the gun. Moriarty bit his lip as if he was disappointed. “Oh. Did I really make such a fleeting impression? But then, I suppose, that was rather the point.” He turned to face Sherlock just as the sniper’s laser flickered over John’s upper chest. Sherlock briefly turned his head towards John, a questioning look on his face.

“Don’t be silly. Someone else is holding the rifle. I don’t like getting my hands dirty.” Jim said, beginning to walk once again. He reached the corner of the pool and stopped. “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...” He looked surprised, as if he has only just realised the connection. “...like you!” he exclaimed. I rolled my eyes in disgust.

“‘Dear Jim. Please will you fix it for me to get rid of my lover’s nasty sister?” Sherlock quoted. Starting to walk forward again, Jim grinned as he recognized the TV show and catchphrase. “’Dear Jim, please will you fix it for me to disappear to South America?’” Sherlock said again.

“Just so.” Moriarty replied, stopping again. I was getting annoyed at that.

“Consulting criminal.” Sherlock said softly. “Brilliant.”

“Isn’t it? No-one ever gets to me – and no-one ever will.” Jim said, smiling proudly.

“I did.” Sherlock said seriously, cocking the pistol.

“You’ve come the closest. Now you’re in my way.” Moriarty corrected darkly.

“Thank you.” Sherlock smirked.

“Didn’t mean it as a compliment.” Jim sighed.

“Yes you did.” Sherlock nodded.

“Yeah, okay, I did. But the flirting’s over, Sherlock...”  He shrugged. His voice became high-pitched and sing-song. “Daddy’s had enough now!” He again started to stroll over. “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.” He continued in his normal tone. John was starting to feel the strain and closed his eyes briefly. Sherlock’s eyes couldn’t help but flicker across to him a couple of times as he tried to keep his focus on the man approaching them.

“So take this as a friendly warning, my dear. Back off.” Moriarty said, smiling. “Although I have loved this – this little game of ours.” He put on his London accent for a moment. “Playing Jim from I.T.” He switched back to his Irish accent. “Playing gay. Did you like the little touch with the underwear?”

“People have died.” Sherlock said severely, glancing at me.

“That’s what people DO!” He screamed the last word furiously, his personality changing in an instant. I tried my best not to flinch away from him, but I wasn’t sure how well it worked out.

“I will stop you.” Sherlock said calmly.

“No you won’t.” Jim argued confidently, calm again. He glanced at me and smirked. I refused to look at the psychopath. Sherlock looked across to John.

“You all right?” Sherlock asked. John deliberately kept his gaze away from his friend, having been given instructions earlier about not talking to him. Jim walked forward again and reached John’s side. I was partially relieved and looked hopefully at Sherlock. He looked at me sadly and turned his attention back to John. I stepped away from Moriarty to my left, closer to the pool.

“You can talk, Johnny-boy. Go ahead.” Jim allowed. Refusing to specifically obey Jim’s orders, John met Sherlock’s eyes and nodded once. Sherlock took one hand off the pistol and held out the memory stick towards Jim.

“Take it.” Sherlock ordered.

“Huh? Oh! That!” Moriarty said, feigning excitement. He strolled past John and reached out for the stick, grinning. “The missile plans!” He took the stick from Sherlock’s fingers and brought it to his mouth, kissing it. Behind him, John was silently murmuring to himself, perhaps trying to keep himself focussed, perhaps winding himself up to take action. Jim lowered the memory stick and looked at it. I looked at John, stepping back away from Jim silently.

“Boring!” Moriarty sung. He shook his head. “I could have got them anywhere.” He nonchalantly tossed the stick into the pool. Seeing his opportunity, John raced forward and slammed himself up against Jim’s back, wrapping one arm around his neck and the other around his chest. Sherlock backed up a step in surprise but kept the pistol raised and aimed at Jim.

“Alice! Sherlock, run!” John commanded. Moriarty laughed in delight.

“Good! Very good.” He said, winking at me as I came up from behind them quickly, going to Sherlock’s side. Sherlock didn’t move, still aiming his gun at Jim’s head but now starting to look up a little anxiously, as if wondering what action the hidden sniper might take.

“If your sniper pulls that trigger, Mr. Moriarty, then we both go up.” John said savagely. I smiled a bit and licked my lips, my fingers above my knife handle. (It was in my waistband.) Jim knew it was there; he always did, but he didn’t take it away, and I was happy for that now. I had a weapon.

“Aren’t they sweet? I can see why you like having them around. But then people do get so sentimental about their pets.” Moriarty said calmly to Sherlock. Grimacing angrily, John pulled him even closer onto the bomb that was now sandwiched between them. Jim scowled round at him.

“They’re so touchingly loyal. But, oops!” He grinner briefly at John, then looked towards Sherlock. “You’ve rather shown your hand there, Doctor Watson.” He chuckled as a new laser point appeared in the middle of Sherlock’s forehead, and judging from the way John looked at me, there was one on me as well. John stared in horror as Jim looked round at him expectantly. Sherlock, either seeing the edge of the laser beam shining from the gallery or realising what’s happening from John’s expression, shook his head slightly.

“Gotcha!” Jim said in a sing-song voice. He chuckled as John released his grip on him and stepped back, holding his hands up to signal to the sniper that he wouldn’t be trying anything else. Jim glanced round at him, then turned back towards Sherlock and I while brushing his hands down his suit to straighten it. He gestured to it indignantly.

“Westwood!” He claimed.  He lowered his hands and stood calmly in front of Sherlock, who was still aiming the pistol at his head. I had brought out my knife, but it was still behind my back so Moriarty couldn’t see it. I knew the snipers could, but Jim didn’t have an earpiece so I hoped for the best. “D’you know what happens if you don’t leave me alone, Sherlock, to you?”

“Oh, let me guess: I get killed.” Sherlock answered, sounding bored.

“Kill you?” He grimaced. “N-no, don’t be obvious. I mean, I’m gonna kill you anyway some day. 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.” He ran his eyes briefly down Sherlock’s body, then met his eyes again and his voice became vicious. “I’ll burn the heart out of you.” His face was in a snarl as he said the word ‘heart’ but at the end of the sentence he looked almost regretful.

“I have been reliably informed that I don’t have one.” Sherlock said softly, wanting to look at John.

“But we both know that’s not quite true.” Moriarty said smugly. Sherlock blinked involuntarily. Jim looked down, smiling, and then shrugged. “Well, I’d better be off.” He nonchalantly looked around, perhaps checking his exit route, before turning back to Sherlock.  “Well, so nice to have had a proper chat.” Sherlock raised the pistol higher and extended it closer to Jim’s head.

“What if I was to shoot you now – right now?” Sherlock tested.

“Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face.” Moriarty said, completely unperturbed.  He opened his eyes and mouth wide, mimicking surprise, then grinned at Sherlock.

“’Cos I’d be surprised, Sherlock; really I would.” He screwed up his nose. “And just a teensy bit disappointed. And of course you wouldn’t be able to cherish it for very long.” He looked at me knowingly, menacingly, and slowly he began to turn away. “Ciao, Sherlock Holmes, Alice White.” Looking back at us with some distaste, he walked calmly towards the side door which John came through earlier. Sherlock slowly stepped forward to keep him in his sights.

“Catch... you... later.” He said slowly. The door opened and Jim’s voice could be heard, high-pitched and sing-song.

“No you won’t!”

Mwahahahahahaa! I feel evil! >=D (for those of you who know's what happens, hahahah!!) ANYwho, enjoy, vote, comment fun peoples! Thank you! =3