The room was dark, nearly pitch black, but for the small amount of light coming through the tiny window right beneath the window. Even then, it wasn't much light at all as the sun had barely begun to rise over London on this new day.
James Moriarty took a moment to look around the room. It was a cellar-type place, with a strong door made of metal and a vastly complicated locking system. Still, it was rather cozy, as they had fixed it to be more homely. The cement floor was covered in a deep red carpet; there was a wardrobe on the far end of the room, an antique vanity table on another wall, other types of furniture scattered about—tastefully, of course—odds and ends… a large, king sized bed.
He looked to that particular piece lastly, set on the floor without a frame, though his gaze was more drawn to her. A bed fit for a king (himself, of course); on it, lay his Queen.
A small figure in comparison to the large mattress, most definitely- limbs strewn about almost gracefully, the duvet covering her, though not entirely, and her hair fanned out against the pillows.
With soft eyes reserved only for her, he silently made his way over and found himself sitting on the edge of the bed and a hand found its way to her cheek.
His love stirred at his touch, and he couldn't help the fond smile that pulled his lips upwards at the sight.
"James…" Her voice was but a whisper, and she let her eyelids flutter open drowsily, though only a bit.
"Hush… go back to sleep, sweetheart," He replied in a quiet tone, fighting against the ache in his heart. He couldn't do this, not when she was awake. She was meant to stay oblivious, and he would leave her a note before he left… if there was ever anyone in the world who could ruin his plans and not have him be angry over it, it was her.
"What are you doing? What time is it?" She questioned in a tired murmur, attempting to sit up a bit but he gently pushed her back down, hands on her shoulders.
"It doesn't matter," He assured her with a faint but recognizable Irish lilt, trying to keep his voice from wavering. Still, no matter how hard he tried; no matter the mask he put up… she could always see through it.
Now was not an exception, even half asleep.
Her eyes opened fully and immediately, he could see the concern grow in them.
"James…" She began in a whisper, lifting a hand to his cheek, "You're crying…"
He didn't even notice the tears that fell from his eyes and down his cheek until she brought it to his attention—until tears of her own welled up.
"Listen to me," He started, voice still quiet but firm, and she silenced her thoughts as he placed both of his hands to her cheeks to lift her gaze to his, "You must listen to everything I say right now, darling, it's important. You must not leave this room until you have received word that you can, and only Sebastian is allowed to give you that word. It's for your safety…" He trailed off, swallowing roughly, "Please. I need to protect you."
"What's going on? You're scaring me…" She breathed, a single tear falling from her eyes and he knew that this was the beginning of the end.
"Everything… everything is going to be fine," He told her, attempting to be calm for both of them, more so for himself because if he allowed himself to waver, he would breakdown, right then and there.
"Why do you need to tell me that? What's 'everything'?!" She whispered, voice frantic, and her gaze remained locked on his.
He didn't answer—he couldn't. He could only press his lips to hers, soft yet in a fit of passion, and she knew. It was a goodbye.
When he pulled away, she attempted to hold onto him in anyway she could, but he had more control of himself right now than she had of herself, rendering her weak, and she could feel her heart breaking as he placed a kiss to the crown of her head.
"I love you," This time, when he spoke, his voice did crack, and he stepped away from her and to the door, not glancing back at her again because he knew he wouldn't be able to leave her if he did.
He was out the door before she had the chance to reply.
"Keep an eye on her, Sebastian. You know the drill," Moriarty ordered said man, in a monotone voice, stationed beside the door to the room she was in. It was a good thing the walls were soundproof, as he knew she had to be sobbing now, she was on the verge of it when he stepped away from her, and he didn't believe his heart could take it.
"Yes sir," Moran replied shortly, gaze locked on the back of his boss's head as he walked away from the door he was beside.
As Moriarty distanced himself more and more from Sebastian, from the room, from her, he let his thoughts wander just slightly. The rest of the building wasn't quite as nice as the bedroom he had been in. It was all entirely underground, which is why he had to climb a series of stairs and go through a number of complicatedly locked doors to get out and step onto the pavement of London, into the morning that had just barely begun. He couldn't risk being found, not when she was so close by his side all the time; it was all about her. Now that he thought about it, almost this entire game was about her—completely dedicated to keeping her safe. He wanted nothing more to protect her, and stay by her side.
Now, he was sitting on the ledge of St. Bartholomew's Hospital.
Glancing down at his phone at the text one Sherlock Holmes had sent him a bit before, he sent his reply.
I'm waiting…
JM