TheDarkestShinobi: here we go!
Moriarty picks a brownie from the table as Moran laughs and the doctor groans.
"Honestly, you'll make it difficult to treat you if you keep moving." The man presses against Moriarty's bare chest and he gasps as he almost drops the brownie. "One broken, two fractured," the doctor diagnoses, "you'll have to avoid brawls for a bit, especially with the concussion."
"Yes, make that go away, it's making it harder to think." Moriarty winces as he bites down on Ma's brownie, his jaw bursting with pain. Moran glances between his spotted and bruised boss and the doctor.
When he takes in Jim's form he feels a mix of rage and guilt. How had someone done this? Jim's arm is fractured; his side is purple, three damaged ribs, a significant concussion and bruised organs, plus enough drugs to OD on. Who had known he wouldn't have been here and what was Jim doing out without him?
"I'm not confined to my house whenever you go home." Moriarty responds to the unvoiced thought. "They killed Marcus."
"You just had Marcus?"
"Hindsight is 2020." Moriarty turns to face Moran and Moran takes in all of the colors on his chest. His retort dies in his throat as he is racked with guilt. He wasn't there. "They would have killed you if you were there." Jim says as he reads Moran's face.
"They didn't kill you."
"No, but they would have." Jim turns to the doctor. "Final thoughts?"
"Stay inactive, that means thinking too. It'll take a few weeks to heal. Brace on the wrist and I'll need to put a cast on the arm."
"No need for a cast if it's not broken."
"It's a fracture." The doctor shakes his head, "at least wear a sling," a pause, "in the house." He puts it on Moriarty as he takes another bite of the brownie and winces. "Ice on the face, softer foods. You've got bruising around the eyes but no breaks so you only need to call if your vision becomes impaired."
"One last question: are all my teeth good?" Jim smiles menacingly at the doctor who shakes his head and keeps walking out.
"You'd need a dentist to figure that out." The door closes and Jim spins to face Moran. He's wearing black slacks and nothing else. His wrist is in a black brace and his arm in a blue sling. The other side of his body is covered in yellow, red and purple blotches of skin. His face is swollen and bruised as well.
"You look like shit, Jim."
"You should see what I'm about to do to the other guy." Jim smiles ferociously and his jaw hurts deliciously.
…
"This is too easy." John says as he pulls Sherlock's elbow back. Sherlock looks towards John before putting his hands in his coat pockets and slowing his walk so that the detective inspector and Sally walk ahead of them.
"I agree, but it's not a trap."
"Maybe not, but it is a bad sign." John takes a sweeping glance of the area before sniffing. "I don't like it."
…
"Thank goodness for the chip in your neck." Moriarty rubs his neck at the mention of it.
"I don't know why I let you talk me into that. Anything electronic could be traced."
"And yet no one looks."
"People are stupid." Moriarty agrees. He takes a deep breath as his eyes close. "Have we contacted Victor?"
"Yes. He has a condition."
"Oh?"
"He wants his mother." Jim nods as he lets out another breath.
"Yes, that would be excellent motivation for him, wouldn't it? Give him his dear old mum, I'm sure she'll be delighted to see him again." Based on his tone, Moran can tell that terrified is a better word, but he sends a text with a nod.
"Release the animal, Moran. Let's hope he's a good distraction."
"Will Sherlock really take Victor over you?" Moran asks as he watches Jim fold his hands under his chin.
"Yes. Victor is a sore spot for the Virgin, and he'll hardly be able to resist him. Not even this can lead him away. I will always be his enemy and he's accepted the possibility that I may be out of his reach." He opens his eyes and stares at Moran. "Victor is ordinary. And well, losing to ordinary means you're not extraordinary anymore." Moriarty shakes his head with a whisper "and we can't have that."
"Now, to the important matter at hand," Moriarty stands and spins, lifting his hands as if there were worlds that moved with him. Moran crosses his arms to watch. When Sherlock called him a spider, he wasn't completely off, and if anyone could see the way Moriarty works they'd find a new definition of awe, and of fear.
"There were four people, all in masks, that took me, and no doubt, one that paid them." Jim throws the idea to one side. "Meaning at least five." Moran nods. "There was one who was able to monitor my vital signs and injuries and tell the others when to stop. One who was well versed in torture. One knew my schedule and yours, and the perfect time to strike. And one worked at Scotland Yard." Jim throws each idea to a side.
"One of our moles?"
"One of the four didn't want to be there, he must have been threatened. He should be the easiest to find."
"Okay, so what are you going to do?"
"Actually, I'm going to stay here and listen to my good old doctor." Moran turns his head.
"Okay." He says slowly.
"I'm going to send you on a scavenger hunt, Sebby." Jim grins as he picks something out of the air. "There are three possibilities for the first. Thompson, Jefferson or Davis."
"I would think Davis." Moran crosses his arms.
"I'm thinking Davis is the most trustworthy, but you'll talk to all of them the same. Quietly at first, then we'll send a message."
"How quiet?"
"I don't want anyone to bat an eyelash."
"And Victor?"
"He always sends a message, no need to do anything with him."
