#it was super sunny earlier.. the weather here is bonkers

[phagodyke]

fell asleep for like 15 mins and then woke up bc it started raining rly heavily and I had my window open above my bed skdkf

when the 3pm tired sleepies hit......

[mousedetective]

Never Will I Forget The Deep Shadows, Never Will I Waste The Moon’s Light (16/16 + Epilogue)

And here it is, the final chapter from Sherlock’s POV (the epilogue is from Molly’s). It’s mostly a magical fight and a sacrifice, but I hope you all enjoy it. Stay tuned for a post tomorrow with all of @redrackham87‘s artwork with the epilogue (I just got the third piece and it is soooo pretty guys; it’ll be added to the AO3 posted story when it’s not super duper early in the AM).

Never Will I Forget The Deep Shadows, Never Will I Waste The Moon’s Light - The Holmes brothers come from a long line of powerful magic practitioners, but they are forced to keep their skills a secret. When Molly accidentally finds out about Sherlock’s powers and doesn’t turn away from him he slowly realizes that this pleases him, but soon enough he gets careless and is put in a position he would rather not be in, especially when others find out that she knows and attempt to use her as a pawn in their own games and machinations.

Read Chapter 1 | Read Chapter 16 | Buy Me A Coffee? | Send Me A Prompt

Sherlock knew that there was some magic that was virtually imperceptible to most other magic users, at least for his kind and those who were similar to him, and he held out hope that it would be true to Moriarty’s types of magic too. At the very least, he hoped the removal of some of the wards would go unnoticed at least long enough for him to regain a portion of his strength. The very first thing he did was to create a rose to keep Molly safe. He poured as much of his energy as he could spare into the peach rose, the colour he knew was her favourite, but all he could manage was a simple rosebud. It would work but it would have been more powerful if it had bloomed.

He would have to make sure Moriarty did not view Molly as bait or a prize or anything at all, even if it cost him his own life. At this point, it was a waiting game to see who could last the longest and whether Mycroft could mount a rescue attempt in time.

He practiced his magic while Molly dozed against him, and he let himself borrow some of her strength. It wouldn’t hurt her in any way or steal any of the warmth Toby had given her, but it would bolster him a bit more if Moriarty made his move sooner than anticipated. The residue from the spell-work done on her as a child and the work Anthea had done and the gift from Toby could be siphoned off and would help him without doing anything to hurt her in any way. It would not undo any of the corrections done to the mess done to her so long ago, and while he knew he should ask, there simply wasn’t time. He knew the work of the birds would be found out, and soon, if it wasn’t known already. Moriarty was a man who changed plans on a whim; for all he knew, now Moriarty could want him to regain a portion of his strength so he could claim a “fair” fight, though it would be a complete and utter lie.

Nothing Moriarty ever did was fair.

But he could prepare in all the ways given to him.

He’d expected a visit from Moriarty at daybreak but there was nothing, and he felt himself on edge. Another gift from the ravens appeared, and he took the bag of crisps for himself and left the protein bar and the packets of juice for Molly. Few more hours ticked by and there was another gift, and then he began to realize something was wrong. Molly was still asleep.

He went to check on her with as much of his other sense as he could as realized there was more to her sleep than was normal. Bastard, he thought to himself. He could hear Moriarty’s gloating chuckle ring around the cell but he ignored it as best he could, beginning the spell-work to reverse the spell. Whatever his plan was, Sherlock was going to make sure he failed.

When he was done, Molly awoke with a start. He hadn’t had time to bring her out of it gently, much as he would have liked to, and he cursed himself for not making the rose bloom. It would have protected her better. But he could do it now. Moriarty’s laugh was still echoing against the walls, so he gathered the food for her and helped her into the corner farthest from the one where Moriarty had Shadow-walked the first time. “I’ll shield you,” he said. “Eat, drink, get your strength. Whatever you see, whatever happens, don’t move. Don’t get involved. When Mycroft comes, he’ll be able to see you. You’ll be safe.”

“If you think I’m going to let you sacrifice yourself...” Molly said, giving him a hard stare.

“The world needs you, Molly. The world can do without Moriarty or I.” He paused and then leaned over and embraced her tightly before kissing her cheek. “You are the one that matters, Molly. You’ve always counted, and you always will.” Then he pulled away and cast the spell as the walls of the cell began to shake.

He braced the defensive spells he had cast earlier with a bit more power. He was adept enough to balance multiple spells at once, a skill that most wizards only were able to do with much practice but was something that had come easily. He had the feeling it would be something that came easily to Moriarty as well, so he couldn’t let his guard down. His primary concern was to keep the spell on Molly up at all times, keep himself as safe as possible and bring the bastard down while buying enough time as he could for reinforcements. He had hope that the spell keeping Molly shielded would hold; he’d tied them into the remaining wards on the ceiling so he needed to do little to power it, but he still needed to keep an eye on it to make sure Moriarty didn’t sever the connection.

The wall where the shadows were deepest blew in, the rubble hitting his shields and deflecting without giving away where Molly was. Moriarty strolled in with that damned smirk on his face, looking as though he already knew who the victor would be and that it would be him. “Really, Sherlock? That was all you could manage to do? I’m rather disappointed. You’re supposed to be the brightest heir of Merlin in an age.” He raised a hand and snapped his fingers, and the roof of the cell exploded, sending stone shooting outward and sunlight streaming in.

“You didn’t leave me many resources,” Sherlock said with a shrug. “Making do with what I have is the mark of a good wizard.”

“It’s cheating,” Moriarty said.

“Like you don’t cheat,” Sherlock said, giving him a look of contempt. “You sacrifice others to get your powers. You boasted your father was your first sacrifice. That makes you one of the worst type of Undesirables out there. Your powers are only bartered for, not earned.”

The smirk dropped off Moriarty’s face in an instant and Sherlock could tell he had hit a nerve. Perhaps this could be exploited. “I did earn those powers,” Moriarty said.

“Through dedication and study? Or through murder and mayhem?” Sherlock said, moving closer. “I think it was the latter. I think you bartered with things belonging to other people. You lied. You stole. You cheated. All of the power you have...you don’t deserve it. It’s all empty and meaningless. It’s not true power.”

“IT IS!” Moriarty shouted, but Sherlock had gotten close enough not to throw magic at him, but to punch him in the face with his fist. Sometimes the unexpected was enough to stun an opponent into doing something foolish, and Moriarty obliged by stumbling backward and casting out magic blasts wildly. While Sherlock had used the glyphs in the ceiling to help protect Molly that wasn’t all he had used, and he increased the strength of the spell as he sent a direct blast to Moriarty’s chest to try and incapacitate him.

But by then Moriarty had recovered some of his composure and began to pull weather magic upon them, bringing clouds over the previously sunny sky. Sherlock could feel the oncoming electricity of lightning in the air at the back of his neck and knew that was something his magic could not protect against unless he was in contact with Molly. When they first lightning bolt hit near his feet he dove to where she was, covering her with his body and enveloping them both with the shield while lightning danced around them.

“He’s absolutely bonkers!” Molly said.

“Yes,” Sherlock said, calculating in his head how to fix the mess Moriarty was making by fooling with the weather while turning it to his advantage. Weather magic was dangerous to dabble in and had never been his forte, but there were a few things he knew. Slowly he worked on turning the clouds into the type that would snow, making the snow into a heavy blizzard that would blanket them all with at least a foot of snow. He hoped Toby’s magic was still working in Molly but that at least he could spring some surprises on Moriarty. Once he was sure the lightning strike had stopped he let her go and moved out from under the shield.

And waiting right outside was Moriarty, who met him with a left hook to the face. Sherlock fell back against the shield as Moriarty took some of the heavily falling snow and formed it into the shape of a blade before changing it into ice and went to stab Sherlock in the heart, but Sherlock pushed him away at the last moment and was nicked by the blade in the arm. This had been a good idea but it backfired, he realized as Moriarty recovered and began to make projectiles out of snow.

There was only one thing left to do. He had to take the fight elsewhere. If he died...if he died, Moriarty would go after Molly. After Mycroft. After John and Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade and anyone else he cared for.

So he needed to make Moriarty disappear for good, at least as well as he could.

Unfortunately, that meant he would disappear as well.

But a sacrifice like that would do more good than anyone could imagine. There was no guarantee they would stay gone, that they wouldn’t slip back into this world at times, but Moriarty was too much of a danger. He had been for a long time. He had known that and had ignored it and now was the time to correct his oversight.

And there was only one spell that would work.

He began the spell, the one spell few dared to try, a spell he knew his brother had never wanted him to know but had left for him to see in his tomes because even Mycroft knew it might come down to this. For a spell of such importance, it was so very simple. So short, and it required only two things. He picked up the discarded ice dagger just as he heard a commotion from the blown out wall.

Just as he saw Mycroft and John and armed wizards come into view.

The spell required his blood and Moriarty’s blood and a few simple words. And as he broke the one keeping Molly safe and cut his palm, saying the words to the spell he needed to say to take himself and Moriarty far far away, as he felt ice projectiles hit him in various parts of his skin, as he saw himself stab the ice dagger into Moriarty’s hand and then yank it out, slamming their bleeding palms together, his last thought as a golden yellow light enveloped them was this:

They were all safe, and this was worth it.