(Alice’s POV: )

Kitty Riley could be heard pulling up outside her home from inside where we were waiting. Opening the door, she walked along the hall to the door of her flat, and then she paused, most likely looking at the slightly ajar and freshly lock-picked door. Hesitantly she pushed the door open and reached for the light switch on the wall. The lights came on and she was greeted with the sight of as three of us sitting side by side on her sofa (quite squished together.

“Too late to go on the record?” Sherlock asked sarcastically.

Not long afterwards, Kitty was sitting in her armchair while we stood in the middle of the room. Sherlock was using a hairpin to pick the lock on his and John’s handcuff. I had gotten mine off already, but Sherlock refused to let me get his and John’s off for some reason.

“Congratulations. The truth about Sherlock Holmes,” I said sarcastically, my arms folded. Sherlock freed his hand and gave the hairpin to John before starting to pace back and forth in front of Kitty.

“The scoop that everybody wanted and you got it. Bravo!” He congratulated her sarcastically.

“I gave you your opportunity. I wanted to be on your side, remember? You turned me down, so...” She began. I looked at John to see if he knew what she was talking about. He shrugged.

“And then, behold, someone turns up and spills all the beans. How utterly convenient. Who is Brook?” Sherlock interrupted. Kitty shook her head, refusing to tell him anything more.

“Oh, come on, Kitty. No-one trusts the voice at the end of a telephone,” I rolled my eyes. John finally freed his own hand from the cuffs.

“There are all those furtive little meetings in cafés; those sessions in the hotel room where he gabbled into your Dictaphone. How do you know that you can trust him? A man turns up with the Holy Grail in his pockets,” Sherlock continued.

“What were his credentials?” I butted in sternly. Outside in the hallway there were the sounds of someone coming in through the main front door. Now Kitty looked towards the door of the flat and rose to her feet with a concerned look on her face as someone pushed her door open. Sherlock turned to follow her gaze as Jim Moriarty, unshaven and with his hair messy and wearing casual clothes including a cardigan, walked in with a shopping bag.

“Darling, they didn’t have any ground coffee so I just got normal...” He began, but he trailed off and raised his eyes and stared in terror at the sight of Sherlock, whose own eyes widened. Jim dropped the shopping bag and backed away until he bumped into the wall behind him, holding his hands up protectively in front of him. My jaw dropped and my eyebrows shot up.

“You said that they wouldn’t find me here. You said that I’d be safe here,” Jim said, his voice trembling.

“You are safe, Richard. I’m a witness. He wouldn’t harm you in front of witnesses,” Kitty assured. John, his face full of shock, pointed at Jim.

“So that’s your source? Moriarty is Richard Brook?!” John shouted, his teeth bared as he glared at Jim, breathing heavily in pure fury.

“Of course he’s Richard Brook. There is no Moriarty. There never has been,” Kitty said smugly.

“What are you talking about?” I snapped, my shock going to anger.

“Look him up. Rich Brook – an actor Sherlock Holmes hired to be Moriarty,” She was still unbearably smug. Sherlock stared at Jim, who is still holding his hands up and looking at everyone nervously. Jim’s voice was shaking as he turned to John and me.

“Doctor Watson, I know you’re a good man.” He backed into the corner of the room, appearing terrified under John’s ferocious glare. “Miss White, please, please believe me.” He glanced at me, and honestly, I saw the eyes of an innocent man, though his face didn’t match. “Don’t... don’t h- Don’t hurt me,” He stammered. John screamed at him, pointing towards him furiously.

“No, you are Moriarty!” He turned his head briefly and yelled at Kitty. “He’s Moriarty!” He turned back to Jim. “We’ve met, remember? You were gonna blow me up and shoot Alice!” Jim put his hands briefly over his face, then held them up in front of himself again, sounding as if he was almost crying in fear. My anger was fading a bit despite myself.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He gestured towards Sherlock. “He paid me. I needed the work. I’m an actor. I was out of work. I’m sorry, okay?” He pleaded. My anger came back. He was blaming Sherlock.

Breathing heavily, John turned to Sherlock.

“Sherlock, you’d better... explain... because I am not getting this,” He said a bit breathlessly.

“Oh I’ll... I’ll be doing the explaining – in print,” Kitty said, handing John a folder. “It’s all here – conclusive proof.” John looked at an early typed sheet of her upcoming article, me looking at it from beside him. He then turned to the proof copy showing the layout of how it would appear in the newspaper, with spaces left for photographs. The headline read, ‘Sherlock’s a fake!’ with the strapline, ‘He invented all the crimes’.

“You invented James Moriarty, your nemesis,” Kitty said, looking to Sherlock. I shook my head and took a step away from John.

“Invented him?” John asked, sounding hurt.

“Mmm-hmm. Invented all the crimes, actually – and to cap it all, you made up a master villain,” Kitty confirmed.

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous!” I cried, glaring at her and glancing at John. He was thinking the same. Kitty turned and pointed towards Jim.

“Ask him. He’s right here! Just ask him. Tell him, Richard,” Kitty said.

“Look, for g*d’s sake, this man was on trial!” John shouted angrily.

“Yes...” She pointed at Sherlock. “...and you paid him; paid him to take the rap. Promised you’d rig the jury,” Kitty continued. I was about ready to sock her jaw like I did Sally. Sherlock stared at her silently. “Not exactly a West End role, but I’ll bet the money was good,” She sounded very content with herself. She walked over to Jim and put her arm around his shoulders as he stood with his hands still held out in front of himself. “But not so good he didn’t want to sell his story.” Jim looked plaintively at John and me, putting his hands together pleadingly.

“I am sorry. I am. I am sorry,” He said, sounding sincere. I hated that I thought he did sound that way.

“So… so this is the story that you’re gonna publish. The big conclusion of it all: Moriarty’s an actor?!” I shouted, my fists clenched tightly. John shook his head in disbelief.

“He knows I am. I have proof. I have proof. Show him, Kitty! Show him something!” Jim pleaded.

“Yeah, show us something,” John said bitterly. Kitty walked across the room. John turned to watch her as she reached into a bag for more information, but I watched Jim still. He had put his hands over his face but now he pulled his hands away from his eyes a little and looked towards Sherlock, whose own gaze had barely left him since he arrived. For a brief moment, he reveals his true self and he smiled triumphantly at his enemy. My eyes narrowed and I wasn’t confused any more.

Sherlock half-smiled back at him but there was no humour in his eyes. Kitty took out a folder, walked over to John and gave it to him.

“I’m on TV. I’m on kids’ TV. I’m The Storyteller,” Jim said, sounding panicky. John looked at copies of Richard Brook’s contact details apparently taken from an agency website, then a newspaper article showing a picture of Richard in glasses wearing medical scrubs and with a stethoscope around his neck. The article was headlined, ‘Award Winning Actor Joins the Cast of Top Medical Drama’.

“I’m... I’m The Storyteller. It’s on DVD,” he says, sounding a bit proud at the last part. He looked across to Sherlock again, this time keeping his Richard face on. John continued looking through the folder at other publicity stills of Rich together with his CV. Jim gestured towards John, looking at Sherlock pleadingly and glancing to me in the same way.

“Just tell him. It’s all coming out now. It’s all over.” His voice becomes more frantic. “Just tell them. Just tell them. Tell him!” He shouts pleadingly. Baring his teeth, Sherlock started to walk towards him. I stepped out of the way. “It’s all over now... NO!” He backed away from Sherlock and up the short flight of stairs towards the bedroom on the upper level of the flat. His eyes were wide and terrified. “Don’t you touch me! Don’t you lay a finger on me!” Jim shouted, pointing at Sherlock with empty threat.

“Stop it. Stop it NOW!” Sherlock shouted furiously. Jim turned and bolted up the stairs.

“Don’t hurt me!” He cried. Sherlock and John chased after him but I stayed there.

“Don’t let him get away!” Sherlock commanded.

“Leave him alone!” Kitty told them. I gave her a warning look. Jim ran into the bathroom on the other side of the bedroom. With Kitty still at the bottom of the stairs and therefore unsighted, and John halfway up the stairs with his vision blocked by Sherlock ahead of him, Jim turned and grinned manically at Sherlock for a brief second before slamming the door shut. I could only see it because I was standing far back enough to do so.

Sherlock ran to the door and struggled momentarily to open it, and then shoved it open but Jim had already disappeared through the open window opposite. There was a crash outside as if Jim had landed on top of a dustbin. Sherlock looked out of the window, and then turned to stop John.

“No, no, no. He’ll have back-up,” He instructed. He headed towards the stairs. Kitty backed down to get out of his way but didn’t move quickly, slowing him down. I scowled and pulled her out of the way.

“D’you know what, Sherlock Holmes? I look at you now and I can read you,” She begins smugly. He stops at the bottom of the stairs as she gets into his face. “And you... repel... me,” She finished slowly. I didn’t understand but didn’t question and followed Sherlock as he turned and headed out of the door.  John, still holding the folder of the articles about Rich, shoved Kitty aside and followed us. She closed the door behind us.

We went out onto the street and John stopped as Sherlock began to pace rapidly back and forth in the middle of the road.

“Can he do that? Completely change his identity; make you the criminal?” John asked, sounding stressed.

”He’s got his whole life story,” I said, signalling to Sherlock that I knew to not explain the truth to John.

“That’s what you do when you sell a big lie; you wrap it up in the truth to make it more palatable,” Sherlock added, signalling back to me in confirmation.

“Your word against his,” the doctor said sceptically.

“He’s been sowing doubt into people’s minds for the last twenty-four hours,” I replied.

“There’s only one thing he needs to do to complete his game, and that’s to...” Sherlock began, but trailed off as he stopped dead as he made a realisation. John, who had still been rifling through the folder, looked up at his friend, who was turned away from both of us. I stared at Sherlock’s back, knowing he figured something out.

“Sherlock?” John asked.

“Something I need to do,” He answered absentmindedly.

“What? Can we help?” I asked, John nodded a bit.

“No – on my own,” He replied. My eyebrows rose. He meant without me. He was planning something that I couldn’t know about.

He briskly walked away. John and I watched him. John sighed, and then looked down at the papers again. I just kept looking after Sherlock worriedly. John looked up and down the road and then apparently decided where he needed to go and headed off in the opposite direction of Sherlock, calling me to follow.

Okay, I didn't update yesterday cos I wanted it to be a bit longer for you guys. You're amazing and I love you all. Thank you for being patient. Enjoy, vote and comment fun peoples!