One roof. Two people. One problem.
The final problem.

Every important word was spoken.
The gun uncomfortably pressed in Jim's hand.
He knew he wouldn't survive the final problem.
It was comforting, Sherlock wouldn't as well.

He chose his word carefully.
And for some inexplicable reason he had to hold back the tears.

He wasn't scared.

He was just sad.

„Good luck with that." he spoke his last sentence.
He raised his gun, but the Consulting Detective was faster.
And the last thing the Consulting Criminal felt, bevor his vision blurred, was the
indescribable feeling of Sherlocks lips on his.