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110. Pyrrhic victory

No one dares to breathe as time passes. One second, two seconds, three seconds, four seconds.

Nothing happens. The sword remains immobile on the ceiling, innocuous. The fire nozzles don't switch on, and the room temperature remains constant, even though everyone is covered in a cold sweat from the tension. Then, an unexpected noise reaches their ears; it is the clinking of ice cubes swirling in a glass. They frown at each other and turn their heads in all directions before Moriarty's disappointed comment booms through the speakers. 

"Well, that is anticlimactic."

His grimacing face appears on the screen; he is peacefully sipping a glass of whiskey.

"For the briefest moment, I thought you might guess wrong and start some fireworks." He gives them a cruel grin. "All those speculations about the wrong objects, all those entertaining attempts to connect the other items to the epic poems kept me on the edge of my seat," he exclaims in ecstasy. He loves making them dance with his puzzles, confusing them until they start questioning everything they know.

He shifts his eyes to Thomas Wellington, and his expression changes dramatically, turning into a bored scowl.

"I won't lie. I would've loved to kill him off. But I am a man of my word, so he's free."

His words are accompanied by the entrance of two armed men in Thomas's room who start freeing him from the shackles.

"And I'll keep up my end of the bargain entirely, so you can now proceed to the next room." As soon as he stops speaking, the automatic door at the end of the room swings open.

John shoots a wary glance at the line of jets on the wall before limping towards the exit. Giulia and Sherlock straighten up, ready to follow him.

As the armed guards grab Thomas by the arms to drag him out of the room, he wiggles out of their grasp and runs to the glass before Giulia can step away.

"Giulia, wait. Let me just thank you," he yells, slamming a hand onto the glass.

She stops and lifts a stern gaze on him. "Don't bother. I didn't do it for you. Sure, we used to be very close, and yes, it hurt like hell when I had to push you away and we parted ways. That night, I lost one of the most important people in my life. But until today, I didn't know just how far gone you were. I thought I was the one who lost you, but by betraying me, you lost me, forever. Now I can't even recognise the person in front of me. For the record, Moriarty was wrong about me. I didn't choose to play out of love," she snarls, stressing the last word. "If your survival truly depended on how much I love you, you'd be lying in a puddle of blood now."

He flinches at her icy tone, then nods. "Fair enough. You should've let him kill me, then. I deserved it."

"No one deserves that. And what about me? What about what I deserve?" She points a finger at herself. "I deserve justice too, and I swear I won't rest until I have made you pay for your betrayal. I'll do everything in my power to ensure that you will be punished for what you did to me."

She pauses and shakes her head. "But I wasn't entitled to sentence you to death. I'm not a judge or an executioner. I'm just a victim, and I want my payback." She glances at the screen with a bitter smile. "Because Moriarty was right about one thing: traitors are the worst kind of people. If I had let him kill you—if I hadn't at least tried to save your life, I would've betrayed everything I believe in. And I simply couldn't do it. I'm not like you. I stayed true to myself." She holds her head up high with pride, glaring at him.

Jim looks at her, and his high-pitched laughter echoes from the monitor.

"But at what cost, Giulia?"

She turns to him and comments sarcastically, "Gutted that my victory wasn't among the expected outcomes of this round."