Work Text:
Title: Shadows of death
Fandom: Sherlock
Characters: John Watson, Jim Moriarty
Word Count: 930
Rating: PG
A/N: AU after The Reichenbach Fall
Warnings: canon character death
Summary: Sherlock's grave isn't empty.
“I know you’re here. I can feel you.” The hair on the back of John’s neck was standing on end and he felt his arms break out in goose flesh as the air around him grew colder. “Show yourself.”
“I didn’t think you’d come back.”
The voice came from directly behind John and it took considerable effort on his part not to make a rather unmanly noise. “You helped me finish the book. Of course I’d be back. I wanted you to see the printed result.”
“Most people wouldn’t be standing in a cemetery talking to a ghost on a nice day like this.” A shadowy outline of a man slowly became more solid to John’s left. “But you’re not most people, are you, Doctor Watson?”
“Considering what you did the last time I was here, I think you can call me John, Moriarty.” He studied the ghost for a moment. It was a bit unnerving to be able to see through the other man. The ghost kept flickering, shifting ever so slightly by John’s side.
“Only if you call me Jim.” Moriarty gave him a smile which almost seemed friendly. It didn’t match the look in his eyes. “I didn’t know what would happen. I hadn’t tried it before.”
“I’d prefer it if you never did that again. Once was enough.” John sat down on the ground in front of the tombstone. He pulled a book out of his pocket. “Have a seat, Jim.”
One moment the ghost was standing and the next he was seated on the grass within arm’s reach of John. “In my defense, I didn’t think you’d remember any of it. You were incredibly drunk and you’d smacked your head on Sherlock’s tombstone. You were just lying there, bleeding from your head with that notebook of yours on the ground. Do you remember ranting about the rooftop and how you had no idea why Sherlock had jumped? They’d never told you I was dead, never concluded my part of the tale. Rather rude of them. I wanted to set things straight.”
“So you just decided to possess me.” John muttered something rude under his breath. “When I woke up, I found myself scribbling ‘facts’ I had no control over and I could hear you whispering in my head. Do you have any idea how disturbing that was?”
“Yes, I do.” Jim’s giggle sent a shiver down John’s spine. “That’s why I didn’t leave until you forced me out. It was the most fun I’d had in months. Being dead is almost as boring as being alive.”
“I’m going to read you the final chapter and when I finish, I want you to tell me if I got it right. The book is going to be out next week, so it is too late to change anything.” John flipped through the book to the correct chapter.
“This will change things.” Moriarty flickered a few times. “Everyone will know the truth. They’ll know he’s not buried here. They’ll know he’s not buried at all.”
John shrugged. “You’ll see.” Clearing his throat, he began to read.
---
By the time John finished, his throat was starting to grow sore and the sun was sinking in the sky. Jim had been oddly silent through the whole reading, vanishing and re-appearing a few times in different positions. John had the feeling he couldn’t sit still for very long when he was alive and it had carried over into his death.
“Read the last line again.”
John glanced to his right. Jim was sitting the same way Sherlock used to, with his hands together under his chin. “‘And with that, Sherlock Homes, my best friend and the world’s only consulting detective, fell.’”
“You left it open. You never say he died and you also didn’t say he’d faked his death. That’s brilliant.” Moriarty tried to clap John on the back and his hand passed through John’s body, making John gasp. “Now you can write a sequel once he comes back and starts taking cases again.”
“It isn’t right, you being buried in a grave marked with his name.” John turned his body so he could get a better look at the tombstone. He thought about all the private things he’d been telling ‘Sherlock’ over the months and it turned out he’d been speaking to Jim instead.
“It’s fine. I told him he was me and it turned out to be true.” Jim laughed. “Besides, I have more than enough enemies who would love to do nasty things to my corpse.”
John got to his feet, wincing as his back and bad shoulder popped. “I was thinking.”
“Thinking can be good.” Jim vanished and reappeared a few times. “What about?”
“I was coming here once a week after Sherlock ‘died’ to talk to him.” John shoved his book into his pocket. “I could keep doing that, if you want me to.”
The ghost disappeared. Jim was silent for so long that John thought he’d left for good. When he spoke again, his voice was soft, barely above a whisper. “Why would you do that?”
“I thought you could use someone to talk to. It might help with the boredom.”
“I... If you want to continue to visit the grave, I won’t object. And I swear on my grave I won’t possess you again. Not unless you want me to.” Jim popped back into existence in front of John and held out his hand. “Deal?”
John made an attempt to shake the ghost’s hand. His fingers went numb as they touched Jim’s. “Deal.”