A/N I just had this as a random idea. Then I just couldn't help myself and decided to write it. –Lyn
Sherlock lounged on the white bed in the white room with white walls and a white floor and a small water closet in the corner, white as well. He looked up at the almost blindingly white lights for a brief second before looking away. He glanced at the white door that had previously been locked as it swung open and Moriarty swung in, shadowed closely by his bruiser Sebastian.
"Hellooooo Sherlie!" Moriarty said in a sing-song voice. "How are you today?" He asked, flouncing over and leaning over Sherlock who was still on the bed, his hands clasped behind his back.
"Well my head is still pounding from the drug you gave me." The consulting detective responded mildly. Moriarty pouted, looking like an insolent child.
"But Sherlie if I hadn't done that then you wouldn't have come now would you?"
"Yes, I suppose that is true. On that note, why am I here?"
"Oh, isn't that obvious? You're here to relieve my boredom. Sebby is predictable and all my toys have gone and gotten themselves broken so I needed two more."
"Two?" Sherlock asked, his face remained neutral but on the inside his interest had peaked, curious and yet fearful of whom else Moriarty had taken.
"Oh yes Sherlie, two." Moriarty said, taking on his normal darker side once again. He grinned and the way the tips of his lips curled up as he spoke reminded Sherlock of the Cheshire Cat. "You see, you can't have a detective without a blogger." Moriarty walked out again as Sherlock stood. Sebastian glared at him, making sure he wasn't going to try anything before following his boss out.
Moriarty strutted into John's room and the military man immediately noticed the lack of Moriarty's favorite body guard.
"Moriarty, why on Earth did you think it was a good idea to kidnap me from the shop?"
"Well where else would I have done it?"
"Oh, I don't know, the flat? An alley? A bar? Somewhere it would attract less attention?" He said sarcastically, gesturing to the small tele that had the news going, saying he was a missing person.
"That would be too much work." Moriarty announced as he flopped down on the end of the bed next to John.
"Moriarty… when are you going to let me go?"
"Once one of us is dead." John looked at him for a second to decide whether or not he was serious before clutching his head in his hands.
"Oh God help me…" He muttered. Moriarty slid off the bed onto his knees in front of John and whispered.
"I'm right here."