Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The cigarette case dropped into its place weighting the letter and Sherlock Holmes lifted his head at last to stand, still and tall.

"I believe I have kept you waiting quite long enough, Professor."

"You have, indeed." Moriarty's fists curled tighter at his sides. "But no longer."

And he was upon him.

What happened after that felt to Holmes like watching a zoetrope spin too slowly, a series of single images stripped out of time.

Moriarty, clenched to Holmes' biceps, his yellowed teeth bared by feral, snarling lips.

Surprise and venom flashing across Moriarty's face as his hands are knocked away and go flying aside.

The crooked angle of Holmes' wrist as the heel of his hand connects with Moriarty's solar plexus, knocking him back.

The professor's eyes, wide then suddenly wider, his arms outstretched.

The tips of Moriarty's fingers, raking across the bone buttons of Holmes' coat.

Only then could he think again, and Holmes' decision was instant.

He took a single step back.

Moriarty's hands grasped into the air, fruitlessly seizing at nothing. With all his lungs he screamed, a primal howl of fury and raw fear. For long seconds, the professor flailed.

And then he was gone, over and gone. Only his voice remained, still raging even as it grew more distant.