"What is this place? Let me go! Let me go!"
Arghh.
"Who's that? Who are you? What is this place? Let me go!"
Sherlock raised his chin from his chest a fraction. Sharp pain attacked his temples. "Argh." He groaned.
Thump.
"Please. Please just let me go, I won't tell anyone. Just let me go." Someone begged. Sherlock groaned again. There was the sound of ropes being bound across from him. Sherlock wriggled his own wrists; ropes scuffed his skin – so he was a prisoner too then.
"Please. What is this place? I'm scared; just please let me go." The girl sobbed. A hand claimed the hair on the back of Sherlock's head and wretched his head up. The bright light pierced through Sherlock's lids, making him squint fiercely. The pain made Sherlock gag, but he managed to open an eye.
A girl sat across from him, hands bounder behind a chair. She had tear stains smeared across her cheeks, reddened eyes and dark brown hair. A slight curl rippled through them, and as she flicked strands from her face her eyes he was surprised how piercing they were, such a dissonant pair of colors; a mere pale blue merged with crisp green.
"That's all." A familiar voice pipped. The hand released Sherlock and his head slackened to his chest again. "Stand outside."
Expensive Italian shoes snapped against the floor as the man at the door approached the pair. Click, click, click.
Sherlock tried to lift his head; he couldn't master any strength at all – everything felt numb and pins and needles at the same time. The man approached them, standing to attention behind Sherlock. He could feel the man's breathing against his perspiring neck; each breath in and out even – unafraid.
The girl was still sobbing, but quieter. Or maybe that was just him slipping out of consciousness again. She was stuttering inaudible words and noises, hiccuping slightly. Everything gradually dimmed down to a silence, and darkness enveloped him. He felt a heat against the side of his face, the breathing against his cheek.
"Remember me?" a voice whispered against his ear. Sherlock snapped back into consciousness, hauling his head up. Everything was blurry; how long had he been down for? The girl was still there, but her eyes were no longer red, a look of defeat upon her face. He turned his head to try and look at the man; the voice had been so familiar – but pain crippled his neck; he grimaced and faced back to the front. He had been in one position in too long, and his neck muscles were far too tense to be used strenuously so quickly.
"M-Moriarty." Sherlock Slurred. A shape shifted to the right of him; a svelte silhouette swathed in Westwood. Sherlock's tongue felt thick in his mouth, like cotton and lead were competing for his affections. He tried to concentrate on staying awake, but the time between each blink seemed to stretch on longer than the next one. He groaned; the noise vibrated through his entire skull and shook him to the depth of his bones. At last everything was quiet, and he no longer felt anything left in him. He gave in, taking one last breath, feeling himself sinking into the inky black.
There was a numb feeling in the back of his neck, and that feeling exploded into fire, tunnelling through his veins. His eyes snapped open and he gasped; drew a relieving breath of air he needed. He felt like a racehorse; his heart pounded in his chest. He gasped, breathing rapidly, struggling against his reins; thrashing wildly against the chair.
As soon as it came, the fire subsided. It was a muted roar in the depth of his five senses; now he was wide awake. A man to his right removed the needle from his neck, and then bowed to the man in front of him –
"Moriarty." Sherlock stated, exhausted.
Jim smiled. "Oh it's nice to see you against too – and here I thought you were dead."
"And you me." Sherlock managed to smirk.
Moriarty crossed his arms, a bemused look upon his face. "You handled that venom better than I thought you would've. A whole seven hours you were defending yourself against it." He frowned. "I had bet on eight."
A cold sweat broke out, and Sherlock shivered, his whole body buckling.
"Don't worry, that's special adrenaline we gave you." Jim stalked around Sherlock's chair, his shoes clicking against the ground rhythmically. "Infused with the anti-venom." He paused, his head barely above Sherlock's. "Lucky you." The stalking resumed.
"What do you want." Sherlock panted. The sweat matted his hair against his forehead, the shirt to his back. He could feel each beat of his heart, the blood coursing through his veins. Everything he saw seemed to be in focus, his sense heightened. It was as if he could smell fear, but that was impossible.
Jim laughed; a cackle where he threw his head back, almost mockingly. "Oh dear Sherlock." His smile vanished. "I said I would burn the heart out of you." He closed quarters between them until his face was inches from Sherlock's. "And I will."
Sherlock swallowed. "And how exactly do you plan to do that, Jim? Have professionals gun down people I supposedly 'love'?"
Jim sniggered. "Oh Sherlock, have some imagination! Am I so unoriginal as to repeat the same threat to someone like you?" his face suddenly darkened. "I have someone you happened to miss."
He slowly strode away from Sherlock, to the chair across from him. He put a hand on the girl's shoulder, and she shrieked, sniffling and shuddering away from his touch.
"No, please!" she screamed; tears were streaming down her cheeks again. Moriarty placed the back of his hand against her cheek, wiping away a tear, and the girl gasped, her face overtaken with fear. "Please." She whispered.
"Sherlock, I never thought of you as the paternal type." Moriarty seemed fascinated. He patted the terrified girl on the head. "But now you've just made it far too easy for me."
Sherlock stared.
"What are you talking about?" He spluttered. It couldn't be. He's bluffing.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about!" Moriarty yelled, the room ringing with his words. The girl was crying even harder now, her body at an entire slant, trying to get away from Moriarty. Only her hands anchored her to that wretched chair.
"Please." She begged. "Please let me go."
"Shut up!" Moriarty screamed, putting a hand at his temple. He sighed an aggravated breath. "Simple people can be so frustrating sometimes."
The room was silent for a moment, the girl sobbing silently.
"What's it like in your funny little heads? It must be so boring." Moriarty murmured. Sherlock looked at him; he wasn't surprised.
"So you were there then." He muttered. Moriarty snickered.
"Of course; I've always been there – you've just never caught on." Moriarty smoothed down his suit, hands in front of him like in prayer; he rested his chin on his fingertips. "I must admit, this is a comfortable pose. No wonder you're so fond of it." Jim smiled.
Sherlock remained silent. Jim's smile slowly faded.
"The time for games is over then," he said.
"It never began." Sherlock stated. Jim's lip twitched in a wan smile. His hand went back to the girl's face, softly bringing her upright.
"Let me ask you again." Jim's smile grew a little bigger. "Do you know what I'm talking about?" his voice amused.
Sherlock paused. "No."
Jim's eyes closed and he sighed. "Alrighty then." His free hand reached into his suit, pulling out a handgun. "Guess she won't be needed then." He placed the gun against the girl's temple. The girl squealed loudly, shrinking down, burying her face in her knees. Moriarty's gun tip followed her down like the head of a heat seeking missile.
"Good bye." He chirped. His finger tightened against the trigger.
"Okay!" Sherlock yelled. Moriarty stopped, turned, and smiled in Sherlock's direction. He placed a hand against his ear, a wondrous look upon his face.
"What was that?" he peered at Sherlock. "Do you know what I'm talking about?"
The girl suddenly struggled harshly against her bonds, screaming. "Let me go! You sadistic people! Let me go! Please!" She cried.
"Be quiet!" Moriarty ordered. He gestured for something behind Sherlock, and a man walked over, needle in hand. He put a full dose in the girl's arm. "Leave." Moriarty said. The girl slowly lay lethargically against the back of the chair, the hoods of her dull eyes half closed. Her breathing slowed to a steady tempo, the rising and lowering of her chest like waves rippling in the sea.
"Now let's try again." Moriarty muttered, frowning. "Do – you – know – what – I'm talking about?" he growled, accentuating each word through clenched teeth.
"That depends. Are you appealing to my better nature?" Sherlock replied just as fiercely, the two predators eying each other from the opposite sides of the room.
"Now come along, you're taking all the fun out of it." Jim groaned. "Get angry! Get scared! Get me!" He threatened provokingly in Sherlock's face.
"Please, what's going on?" the girl whimpered. Her voice was quiet, but stern. You could see she was trying to draw all the strength she could from her body, but the shot had subdued her beyond reckoning. The aggressive tension evaporating from Jim was cooking the room. Jim sighed, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and turned back to the girl.
"What's going on darling," Jim stroked her hair again, making her flinch sluggishly. "is that there's someone I want you to meet." He leaned down to her eye level, facing Sherlock, raising one accusing finger to him. "Do you know who that is?"
The girl slowly shook her head, eyes terrified. "Oh, well you should." Jim mused. "I'm sure he knows who you are."
Sherlock's face twitched.
"Oh," Jim grinned. "He does!" he sprang up, clapping. "Bravo! Bravo!" In two quick strides he was in front of Sherlock, his hands planted on the arms of the chair. His face was inches from Sherlock, but Sherlock didn't flinch.
"You can't lie to me; I know everything."
"Apparently not everything."
Jim's smile was wiped from his face, his eyes darkening. "I know everything." He growled. He threw a hand in the girl's direction. "Isn't this proof enough?" He closed quarters again. "You can't hide anything from me Sherlock. I. Know. Everything." He marched back to the girl.
"Sherlock, allow me to introduce you to – "he patted her on the shoulder. " – Charliche Adler."
Author's note: Charliche is pronounced 'Shar-leek' with a french roll of the tongue :)
