As amusing as it was that Sherlock thought he was ordinary, he was getting quite sick of it. Sherlock was always brushing him off or calling him an idiot and his praise needed work as well. But John, being the soldier he is just ignored it, a few times it got out of hand and he stormed out to the pub but he had his temper pretty much under wraps. But it was pathetic how he still hadn't figured it out. John was an amazing actor but he couldn't be this good, not good enough to fool the great Sherlock Holmes. Or maybe Sherlock was too distracted with Moriarty, perhaps it was time for a meeting.
John sent out a text, it read.
It's time.-JW
Just after John left was when he sent the message. Grabbing his laptop he opened it up to a chat and sent the message
Found. The Bruce-Partington plans. Please collect. He stopped and smirked, then he added
The Pool. Midnight.
It was an impatient wait until midnight, he left fifteen minutes early so he wouldn't be late and perhaps catch a glance at Moriarty arriving. He was ecstatic to finally be meeting the criminal mastermind behind the best cases he's had in a long time, if only time would hurry along. He was secretly happy John was not involved in any of this, even if he was an ex soldier this was still a very powerful criminal who, he figured had immense power in the criminal underground. If he came out of this alive he wouldn't tell John about his encounter with Moriarty, it'd only make him fuss and John would make sure he had eyes on him at all times. He really didn't need another set of eyes around all of London watching him, Mycroft was enough and now Moriarty seemed to know what he was doing. So it was best for him not to know.
Finally midnight came around and Sherlock stepped into the pool, twiddling the memory stick in his fingers behind his back. There was no other person inside, he was alone. Wants to make an entrance then, fine. He glanced around at his surroundings, there was a sound, barely a scrape of a boot against concrete but it was enough, Moriarty was here and he had brought company.
He held up the memory stick. "Brought you a little getting to know you present." He paused, of course that's what he had aimed for this whole time, he had given him those puzzles to solve so he would forget all about the plans, but he was smarter than that.
"That's what it's all been for isn't it? All your little puzzles making me dance, all to distract me from this." He was facing the door where he had come in when he heard a shuffle behind him.
John. John Watson was Moriarty? But he was so ordinary, ex soldier with a psychosomatic limp nothing special, but here he was standing in front of him like he had planned this. How could have he been so unobservant, to miss the fact that his flatmate and only friend was Moriarty. The one who had killed an old woman for describing how he sounded, bombed the flat across from theirs and indirectly killing four people.
John started to talked. "Evening. This is a turn up, isn't it Sherlock?"
Sherlock could only imagine the look on his face, horror probably. Fear. "John, what the hell-"
"Bet you never saw this coming," he smiled but it disappeared in a flash, Sherlock barely caught it.
But John was so morally sound, he had an annoying conscience and he was a better man than Sherlock would ever-oh. Ohhh. John had opened the parka to reveal the Semtex that was strapped to his body and the red dot that appeared over his heart, was the fifth and final pip. He continued to speak.
"What would you like me to make him say next?" By now Sherlock had been taking cautious steps towards John and he was in a close range when he heard what he said next.
"Gottle o gear, gottle o gear, gottle o gear," his voice faltered on the last one and he'd had enough.
"Stop it." He faced John. But he just wouldn't shut up and he needed to get John out of here, safely without causing the bombs to explode.
"Nice touch this, the pool where little Carl died. I stopped him, I can stop John Watson too. Stop his heart." Sherlock was starting to panic now, but now he knew John was not, in fact Moriarty which made him breathe a little easier.
"Who are you?" He demanded looking all around himself. There was the sound of a door opening on the opposite end of the pool and a voice chimed out.
"I gave you my number, I thought you might call." A man stepped out, the very same man Molly had introduced to them at St. Barts, he had been nobody he barely even took a glance at him. Next came an innuendo and an introduction.
"Jim Moriarty, hii-ii," he said it in a singsong voice and Irish lilt to his voice.
"Jim, from the hospital?" He glanced down at his feet faced contorting. "Did I really make such a fleeting impression?" He sounded disappointed.
Sherlock had his, well John's gun pointed at Moriarty but he wasn't the one holding the gun at John, he knew from one quick glance at John. Moriarty seemed to notice.
"Relax, someone else is holding the rifle," his voice dropped and octave. "I don't like getting my hands dirty."
The man wasn't all that concerned, he leisurely walked with his hands in his pockets like they had all the time in the world. His dark hair was short, not styled. He had dark brown eyes which didn't show any emotion and a mole under his right eye. He was a specialist, like him, or so he said and he had only given him a glimpse of what he had going on in the big bad world. But something flashed in his eyes as he said this, so quick he wasn't sure it was even there to begin with. Jealousy. But he wasn't jealous of him, oh no there was a higher power someone was controlling him. But not doubt was he the one who had committed these crimes.
"Dear Jim, please will you fix it for me. And get rid of my lover's nasty sister? Dear Jim, please will you fix it for me, to disappear to South America?" Jim looked smug.
"Just so." He said and shrugged nonchalant. Brilliant, he was a consultant. 'Just like you.'
"Consulting criminal, brilliant." And indeed it was, opposite than him. Consulting criminal against a consulting detective two sides of a coin and Jim seemed pleased at his comment. But looked as if he was itching to play another game.
"No one ever gets to me, and no one ever will." Sherlock flicked the safety off the Browning.
"I did." Moriarty didn't seem impressed.
"You came the closest and now you're in my way. Or should I say in our way." A compliment, clever.
"Thank you."
"I didn't mean it as a compliment." He was lying.
"Yes you did." Obviously he was flirting.
Moriarty shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, okay I did. But the flirting's over, Sherlock. Daddy's had enough now." His voice had risen an octave on the last word. "I've shown you what I can do, I cut loose all those people, those little problems. Even 30 million quid just to get you to come out and play."
In the corner of his eye he could see John shaking his head, anger on his face. It was confusing, he couldn't get a good reading on John from this angle. But what could he possibly be mad about, mad about this situation? Nothing could have prevented this, not him, not Sherlock not even Moriarty with the higher power controlling him. Moriarty had started to get cocky and the anger grew just a bit on John's face.
"I have loved this, this little game of ours. Playing Jim from IT, playing gay. Did you like the little touch with the underwear?" Brilliant actor then, he could only imagine his boss he's probably right under his nose, but it was a risk playing Jim, playing gay.
"You could have died." Moriarty looked angry.
"That's what people DO!" Sherlock didn't like this game much anymore and neither did he by the look on his face.
"I will stop you." If not you, your boss. Or even the whole criminal web surrounding them.
"No you won't." Was the response, flat, bored, and Sherlock turned to John.
"You alright?" He turned to John, he was still angry by the look on his face.
But Moriarty leaned in and said that John could talk, encouraged him to talk even. John met his eyes and he saw no fear, only irritation and something secret he couldn't quite get at. John gave him a quick nod and he held out the memory stick for Moriarty to take. Anything so John gets out of here alive.
"Take it." He was getting desperate and was relieved when Moriarty took them. He saw John give Jim a once over while he stepped forward. He's planning an attack, not the brightest idea when there's a sniper in the pool with them, but there was no way to tell John. Moriarty kissed the memory stick once.
"Oh the missile plan," he saw John's jaw tighten. "Boring, I could have got them anywhere." And he threw them in the pool, that's when John lunged, grabbing hold of Moriarty around his neck and telling him to run. Jim started to laugh and praise Sherlock just as John mentioned that if the sniper was to shoot him they would both go up.
"I can see why you like having him around, so touchingly loyal. But people can get so sentimental about their pets. You've rather shown your hand there Doctor Watson." At that moment Sherlock knew the laser was pointed at him, his head to be exact. It would point at his strongest asset, just like it was pointed at John's heart.
But when John let go of Moriarty and stepped back, hands in the air. Moriarty brushed himself off complaining his suit was 'Westwood' and John dissolved into giggles.
"My my James you have always been one for dramatics."
To Be Continued...(And nobody knew what happened for a year and a half)