She winced as his nails drove deep into her skin, leaving her skin burning as they let loose. She knew pain, most certainly. However, the pain she had experienced in her past was mostly out of pleasure. This pain was meant for torture, to get her to do his dirty jobs. He didn't like to get his own hands dirty, he loved to sketch out every scenario in detail, but others had to perform the hard work.

The room had been silent, except for a constant sharp noise in her head. A couple footsteps broke the silence soon. The nails were back, this time clenching around her jaw, forcing her to look up.

"Oh dear little princess, look at you now. The Woman, or should I say The Wreck? From whipping clients into oblivion, to whining here defeated in the corner. Who would have expected that? The infamous Irene Adler, broken like a stepped on twig, you are so fragile. You could have known. You made a promise and I made mine. I trusted a woman, the woman that I once trusted with everything, but now. Now you let me down, sweetheart."

He almost sung the last sentence, whilst one of his hands let loose of her jaw. A small moment of release, but it was soon followed by his hard hand slapping her face. She could feel the bruises arise. She had always been surprised by his ability to keep his voice so perfectly in control, even when he was infuriated. Even now, when he was slapping her with a smile, actually making his hands dirty this time, he was still in utter control.

Every time his hand slapped against her face she tried to keep quiet. She bit her lip until she could taste the irony taste of her blood on her tongue. One hand still with the nails in her jaw, the other landing with full force on her face again, and again, and again. Her lips couldn't handle it anymore, screams came out of her mouth. Broken screams. She started to feel numb. To forget what was around her, only to feel the searing pain. The pain had stopped after what felt like an hour. She closed her lips again and cringed. His hand trailed up to her head again. She was dreading more violence, but it was the opposite. He softly caressed her hair, her cheek, her broken lips. He still cared for her, but she betrayed him, and traitors must be punished. Her eyes closed and her mouth opened against his fingers, not to let out the moan of pleasure that he was used to, but for a soft pained beg.

"P-please." She managed to get out, just quiet enough for him to hear.

His laugh echoed in the empty room. The mood had switched again. The always changeable Jim Moriarty had decided to shove the feelings away, his cold side back to the surface.

"Say that again, darling. I love to hear you beg for mercy, especially in that little broken voice of yours. SAY IT OUT LOUD!"
As a car raced by a little spark of light fell on his face. His eyes were dark and seemed empty. They have always been like that since she knew him. She didn't dare to ask him about his past, why his eyes were dead, why he did this, he didn't ask her either. It was better that way.

She winced again as his voice reached a high pitch. "Please." She got out just a bit louder.

But not loud enough.

She was suddenly picked up and thrown against the wall. Every muscle in her body ached, her legs couldn't hold her, her head smashed against the wall and soon she cringed into a little heap of misery on the floor again.

She heard his shoes click on the wooden floor as he came closer. Step by step. His hand tilted her face upwards at last, this time almost tender.

"Goodbye little girl. You have been quite an amusing plaything." He sounded soft, almost caring, but she thought to know he wasn't anymore. He still was, a bit. He leaned forward and pressed his lips against her broken ones one last time. Love truly was a dangerous disadvantage. Danger must be avoided at all times, or killed.

Cold and calm he walked away, not even glancing over his shoulder anymore. Everything needs to end. A little red light aimed for her head, a loud explosion coming from it, but she felt nothing. She had been ready for this. She had seen this coming. Life slipped away from her with her last breath.

He walked down the stairs of the deserted house, ready to leave this behind and go on. He had been dead all along. A dead man in a living body, nothing affected him anymore. At least, that was what he wanted to believe.

A little painful Moriadler drabble. Would love to hear your comments on it, please leave a review ;)