The air was thick. John could hear his ragged breathing and the blood rushing in his ears. Sherlock's arm never wavered, never faltered. Nothing moved.
"Crazy… crazy for feeling so lonely…" A tinny ringtone echoed through the pool. Moriarty exhaled loudly through his nose.
"Uh… Boss?" said a slow Texan drawl, "Mind if I get that?" Moriarty glared at the tiles in front of his feet as they parted and someone broke through. All Sherlock could see was the back of a blonde head. The Texan spoke again:
"It's the missus…" Moriarty sighed.
"Fine." He looked over apologetically to Sherlock, "Sorry about this."
"Oh, no, it's fine." The gun still didn't move. All eyes were on the Texan as he casually brought a phone to his ear.
"Hi, hun… no… Look, sugar, I'm kinda busy right-… Really?…" he sighed, "That's kinda irritatin', huh? Try the thumbscrews… First drawer, yeah …Awh, you sure?...Yeah, I'll tell the boss. He won't be happy though-… okay, catch up with ya later then… bye, honey bun!" He put the phone away. "Sorry. Missus says he ain't cooperatin'. She says she reckons he'll talk to you though."
Moriarty pulled a face.
"Some people are just so picky," he said to Sherlock, "I'm glad we're not like that." He added with a good natured wink. "Why don't you come and say hello, Mr Sanguine, I'm sure our guests are dying to meet you."
"I'll bet they are." The Texan said, rising completely out of the ground. He turned to Sherlock and John, a bright white smile plastered to his tanned face. He wore sunglasses and a casual suit. "I'm assumin' this is the great Consultin' Detective." He flashed Sherlock another dazzling grin, "I do hope I've not turned up underdressed." Sherlock ignored him.
"Ya see," the man continued, removing his sunglasses to show empty sockets where his eyes should have been. "I've heard so much about you, I-" he stopped and laughed. "Oh, I'm sorry! How very rude of me!" He slid the glasses into an inside pocket of his suit jacket, "Billy-Ray Sanguine. Hit-man Deluxe."
Sherlock simply looked at him in disbelief, lowering the gun.
"You are impossible." Sanguine laughed loudly.
"I've been called worse."
"You have no eyes…." John's voice was shaky and the acoustics of the pool made every tremor stand out, "How can you…" he trailed off, his dark blue eyes wide with both horror and fascination.
Sherlock didn't look impressed.
"So, what," he said, not bothering to hide the sneer on his face, "you're a wizard?"
"I believe the word you're looking for is mage." Sanguine sniggered, "Wizard… I ain't from no Harry Potter book…"
Sherlock turned away, bored.
"I'm assuming your boss here's a mage too then, Mr Sanguine?"
Moriarty sauntered past Sanguine.
"No, Sherlock, don't be obvious. My father was. My sister too – well, my step sister – and I must say she is quite a character. My step-brother died before we could be acquainted; rather irksome, I'm sure you'll agree." Moriarty brushed some imaginary lint from the sleeve of his suit. "But I am perfectly non-magical, I'm afraid. I guess I got all the good looks to make up for it."
"Well," Sanguine said, resting a hand on Moriarty's shoulder, "We'd love to stay and chat, but me an' the boss have some evil plans to see to; world domination, mass destruction, all the good stuff. I hope we'll bump into each other again, Mr Holmes."
Sanguine inclined his head and he and Moriarty sank quickly beneath the tiles, a mere crack left in the ceramic to show they had ever been there.
