This was inevitable.
It was one of many endings, but none of them would be painless, Mycroft Holmes knew.
He had ambushed them in a car park, Sherlock and John at his side.
The area was half lit, drips of blood on the concrete led to them.
The Moriarty Twins.
They stood, Koren's left hand in James' right, staring defiantly at the SWAT team that surrounded them, pistols lost some-where further back where they had fought for so long against the law enforcers. They had done well against so many; three dead and two injured where only James Moriarty had received a gunshot wound to the right shoulder.
A dark rose of blood bloomed on his shirt and both were bedraggled and dirty from the two and a half week chase.
There was silence for a minute or two before Mycroft stepped forward.
"Koren; end this. Come here." He held out a hand to her.
"MYCROFT!!!" Sherlock exploded as he had no idea of what his older brother planned, and John looked from the youngest Moriarty to the politician in disgusted shock.
Koren looked at him, mouth set as ever but emotion ran through her eyes.
She licked her lips and cleared her throat, her imminent death making her scared.
"No Mycroft. Not this time."
"Koren; don't do this
She closed her mouth and perhaps it was only wishful thinking that made him see her eyes look dewy, though there were no tears. She stayed stonily silent, whether not trusting herself to speak, or knew Mycroft understood that there was nothing to say, it was uncertain.
Mycroft's gut twisted and iced over, though his mind stayed clear.
"Koren......." He steadied himself, "......please." Mycroft never asked, not really.
But now he was imploring her; begging her to see sense.
The entire time Jim hadn't spoken; he had, in fact, barely blinked and a small, lopsided smirk sat on his face, unmoving.
He was, as usual, unsettling to the point of monstrous.
Koren twisted as if dancing and, still holding her brother's hand and stood nuzzling into his chest, face burrowed into him so she couldn't see the men or the guns that were going to kill them both.
..I think she's made her choice, don't you? No more emotional theatrics
" Jim speaking for her in his usual, playful mocking tone even in the face of death cut deeply into the man.
Even now she stood by him!
Jim stared at him and he met his gaze and tried to pull the burning rage and bile he felt inside of him into the look; it was the most awful sensation, looking into those eyes.
They were so like Koren's, and yet so different.
They were empty, and cold.
Some cheekiness, like her's, was there, yes, but it was smaller and far more disturbing.
He didn't know who gave the order, but soon there was a hail of automatic gunfire and time slowed and he was screaming.
"NO!!! NO I-..I didn't...<small>d-didn't</small>......" The words died in his throat.
Jim was still staring at him, with his soulless Koren-eyes and bullet-holes riddled Koren's back, going through her and into the eldest Moriarty.
Koren slid sideways until she fell down heavily to her face; dead. She hadn't even made a sound.
James just kept standing there as the bullets tore him apart, smirking.
He stumbled back eventually, back slamming into the wall and then slowly sliding down; leaving a long, sickly red smear. He sat smirking at him with his legs apart, hands at his sides, like a child's rag doll wanting to play and Koren's still form off to the side.
Mycroft couldn't move, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't-
He gasped for air, bewildered and terrified, heart pounding in his chest; awake.
He lay there, gripping his duvet and then covered his face with his hand and rubbed sleep from his eyes.
He stretched, joints popping and slid out of the bed and walked to the bathroom heavily and splashed cold water on his face.
.what had he dreamed about?
Something about Koren
.was Sherlock there?
He honestly couldn't remember anymore.
Sometimes he remembered them for months and sometimes they disappeared as soon as he woke.
He got a drink of water and snuggled back under the thick warm covers and glanced at his alarm clock.
He swore at his clock.
He had to wake at 6.
Not enough time to get a decent nap but enough time to get comfortable; he hated that.
Mycroft changed his alarm to 6:20, rolled over, and went back to (a mercifully) dreamless sleep.