Choices

"Have you figured out why you are here yet?", he asked with his feather soft voice.

Sherlock remained silent. Ever since their last meeting on the rooftop he knew the less he says, the better. The only person who reads between the lines better than a genius is a psychopath.

"Well?", he turned away from the window and slowly approached the armchair Sherlock was sitting in. A slight grin was playing on his lips, making him look like a mischievous child with a menace on his mind, "Oh, c'mon, honey, give me something, anything! This is a game for two. And I admit you are a great player."

Sherlock knew exactly what was happening – Moriarty was toying with his ego. Pretty obviously, added to. He was not trying to hide it because he knew Sherlock would give in. And Sherlock knew it very well himself. That drove him insane, but he surrendered:

"Your one and only goal that I know of have always been my ultimate destruction."

"That's my boy. It is always a pleasure making you dance under my lead. You submit to me so well."

Sherlock was trying to keep a neutral expression but it wasn't easy. Moriarty was staring at him in silence, smiling gently. It was so quiet in the room Sherlock could almost hear the throbbing of his inexistent heart.

"But you see, even you can be predictable. And to prove this I offer you a game of choices", Moriarty turned his back and started walking slowly around the room, "You can say yes or no. If you say no, I give you my word that you will be free to walk away from here undisturbed."

There was a long pause. Sherlock could sense Moriarty waiting for his question. From his profile he could see a self-confident grin. Moriarty could forever wait patiently just for the pleasure of Sherlock submitting to his game.

Moriarty turned He faced Sherlock agai. On his face one could read a divine happiness. Never before had he resembled a child so much. Cruelty, confidence and pure joy were written all over his complexion. He was beaming. He stared walking really slowly back to the armchair Sherlock was seated in. The more he approached the happier he looked. His pupils dilated. He must have been experiencing a long moment of ecstasy.

"And if I say yes?", Sherlock heard his own voice asking and he could have sworn he had lost control over it for good.

"Thanks for asking!", Moriarty was radiant. He even took Sherlock's stone cold hand in his warm palms and shook with honest respect, "If you say yes, I will ask you to make three choices. I will prove that I can predict every answer of yours because I have them written down here."

He took out four small pieces of paper from his pocket and placed them before Sherlock. The numbers from one to four were written neatly on the upside. Sherlock knew the answers were beneath.

"You said three questions and yet I see four sheets."

"You are marvellous", Moriarty purred, "Yes, the sheets are 4 because you also need to say yes or no to my offer. My answer is under sheet number one."

They exchanged looks and both of them knew exactly what the other was thinking.

"But let us not play telepathy. Tell me: yes or no?"

"I will not say anything before I know the rules of the game."

"Ah!", Moriarty exclaimed and approached a small table where a white porcelain teapot and two cups were served. He took his time to pour some tea in both of them and handed one to Sherlock.

"If you agree to play and you win, I will let you go. If you lose, I will kill you", he said calmly while stirring his tea.

"There is more to it, though", Sherlock said.

"Yes", simply answered Moriarty and placed his spoon in his saucer, "If you decide to play the game, regardless of you winning or losing, at least one innocent person will die. All the people involved in the game are people you know."

Sherlock felt his blood running cold.

"But if you say no, no harm will be done to any of them. You will walk away like the biggest, most ordinary loser and you will be back to your mundane life."

At this moment Sherlock resembled a statue and only Moriarty could see what was happening behind his frozen eyes.

"Oh, and if I lose, you and whoever is left alive from the others will be free to walk away alive and safe. And I promise you will never hear from me ever again. Do you want some sugar with your tea?"

Sherlock ignored the question. Every molecule in his body was pumping out adrenaline. Moriarty was calm. He drank a big sip of his tea.

"I am telling you, Sherlock, I know what you are going to choose in every situation. If you back off, you will be ruined. If you decide to play, you will lose and die in disgrace. If you win, you would wish you were dead. This game has destroyed you already without you having made a choice yet. You will die one way or another. This is not another joke like The Fall. This is the end of you."

Moriarty had leaned forwards and was speaking so softly as if he was reading a bedtime story. His eyes were two big black circles.

"The time has come for you to choose. The price of innocent blood is on the line. Yet, I know, as if I could see in the future, what your choice will be. You are predictable, and I will prove it. You can't escape from me anymore because I am inside your mind."

Sherlock could not quite figure out what is this feeling of his spirit escaping his body even though he was still breathing. It was insecurity. It was loss. It was fear.

"So what shall it be?", Moriarty's voice brought him back to reality, "What is your choice?

Sherlock was silent. Moriarty leaned forward and placed his hand on the first sheet of paper, containing the prediction of Sherlock's first choice. His face resembled the one of a lover waiting for his beloved to answer to his marriage proposal. Sherlock started breathing heavily. He felt the burst of sweat from every pore of his skin. The room started spinning. Blood was pumping in his ears.

"YES!", he shouted. He felt the beginning if a battle inside him – relief and regret were struggling to take over him.

Moriarty flipped the piece of paper and leaned back. He was triumphant. Sherlock shot a glance at what was written on the small sheet. For the first time he actually understood what power Moriarty has over him. That was the beginning of the end. Moriarty's elegant handwriting was now forever imprinted in his brain with the words from the paper: "The game is on"