Alternate Ending

Moriarty sauntered down the office corridor, ignoring the stares his employees were giving him. He'd explain everything to them later... maybe. He was so looking forward to seeing Koren again. He'd wanted to come right back and celebrate, but he'd had to tie up some loose ends that he didn't want her involved with. There were some things he needed to do alone. The first thing he was going to do was give his sister a huge kiss- no, wait, probably not the best idea. Better to act casual. Looking at his watch, he opened Koren's door without bothering to knock.

"So, Koren, what's for dinner?"

He looked up to see the room in shambles, and his jaw slackened slightly. What on earth?

There were only milliseconds for him to take in the complete and utter destruction of her office. It looked like a nuke had gone off, and that was being rather generous, he thought. Her tear-stained face had an expression that he could only describe as one of all-encompassing shock. Then it began.

He blinked and she had literally thrown herself at him, embracing him tightly about his ribs, hard enough that he was sure that one of them had cracked, probably, either way there would be a bruise for the next week or five in the shape of her arms.

"Brother!" She nearly yelled as she cried, this time from relief. Her relief was too great for her to even fathom being angry or anything other than thankful he was still alive. "I can't believe- how? I felt you-" Sobs wracked her body once more but these were tears that bathed her wounds, luckily they had not been left long to fester and would heal after a good dose of anger... tomorrow.

It took a couple seconds, but Jim Moriarty wasn't called a genius for nothing, and he was able to discern her question and promptly answered it.

"I took a drug, well it was injected into my bloodstream by the fake bullet in the gun. Fast acting. Basically it made me clinically dead for just under half an hour. Heartbeat reduced to bare minimum to keep my brain from dying and breathing was short and shallow enough that if I were conscious it would have been very uncomfortable..." Because he knew that dear old Sherlock wouldn't just take it at face value, he'd check his vitals. As much as he liked winning, he liked winning and being alive to enjoy it much better.

But something wasn't adding up in his mind. Why exactly was her office in such a state? And what had caused such distress?

Jim blinked. With difficulty he pulled out his mobile and murmured, "Oh... it didn't send..."