For Keeps
When Mary answered the knock at the door and looked up at the man grinning at her, she new exactly who it was. He matched Sherlock's description perfectly, and she remembered Sherlock's warnings all too vividly. She gripped the doorframe tightly to steady herself. "May—may I help you?" She was so frightened that she forgot to curtsey, and hastily tacked on, "…Sir?"
Jim let his eyes slowly slide down Mary's figure and back up to her eyes, wetting his lips. "Sherlock warned you about me, did he? How considerate." He raised an eyebrow and stepped forward, pushing his way inside. "Is he in, love? I've got some rather interesting news concerning Doctor Watson and Hamish." He let his eyes wander up the stairs before turning them back on Mary, his gaze suddenly harsh.
Mary blushed at his rude gaze, then dropped her eyes to the floor and nodded, her voice barely a whisper. "What've you done with John and Hamish…sir?"
Jim took a step closer so that their shoes were nearly touching. They were improperly closed. He removed his hat and tipped his neck to both sides, cracking it loudly, then moved his lips to whisper in her ear, his voice cold and low. "That's not really any of your business, is it?"
Mary shuddered, stepping away from him. She kept her head down, too terrified to look him in the eyes. "N-no, sir. He's upstairs, sir."
"There's a good girl." Jim smiled and handed her his hat, then ran his palms across his hair and set up the stairs. He didn't bother to knock, simply pushing the door open to find Sherlock idly plucking the strings of his new violin, his slender back to the door. Sherlock didn't turn around at the sound of the door opening. "Jim. Apologies for not putting the kettle on."
Jim boredly scanned the room. "I miss the skull motif. It was such a nice touch."
Sherlock finally stood up, giving the mostly-bare fireplace mantel a once-over before finally turning to Jim, hands clasped behind his back. "Look at you—positively glowing. In the middle of a new scheme, I take it." He tilted his head, considering his enemy.
Jim gave Sherlock a playful smile, looking almost bashfully at the floor then back up at him. "Look at you—Sherlock Holmes. I did miss you, you know. It just wasn't the same without you. See, at first it was fun. Victorian London was a shiny new toy to play with. It had new places to see, new people to kill, new items to steal…but you know something, Sherlock? Things never change…" Jim's voice rose and he paced to the window. "PEOPLE never change! It's boring, isn't it?!"
Sherlock gave a brief twitch of a smile. He was, in some dark way, glad to see the consulting criminal again as well.
Jim turned back to Sherlock. "I'm going to miss this, our games, your guesses, all the flirting…"
"What do you mean, you'll miss it? Is this some threat to kill me again?" Sherlock asked, disappointed. He'd expected something less dull from Jim.
"Where have the wife and kid gone off to, Sherlock?" Jim asked, his voice nasal and taunting. "Bright little Hamish and his dear doctor dad?"
"John's working, Hamish at school. Obviously. If you insist on the idle chit-chat, I'll have to toss you out. Don't bore me."
Jim grinned and laughed. "Working and at school. The day's getting a bit late, isn't it? Or had you been too wrapped up in your head to mind the clock again, my dear?" He tapped his fingers against his lips in mock concern. "Where could they be?"
Sherlock glanced at the clock mantel. He had let the time slip away. John and Hamish both should have been back at least an hour ago. He clenched his jaw briefly. "Obvious." He muttered under his breath. "Stupid…you want me in exchange for them." It was a tired ploy, but he'd fallen for it all the same. Sherlock berated himself as he grabbed his coat. What a fool he'd been. Moriarty out on the loose, and he'd completely neglected John and Hamish. "Well, I won't disappoint."
Jim laughed once more, utterly pleased by Sherlock's response. He shook his head and smiled. "Oh, Sherlock, Sherlock." Jim's eyes flashed. "I don't want YOU!"
He stepped toward him, enjoying the unnerved look creeping into Sherlock's face. "What fun would that be? A simple grab and switch? No, no, no…not my style at all… I'm uh… keeping them…you see." He ran his hand over his jaw, then his mouth curled into a wicked grin at Sherlock's dumbfounded expression.
Sherlock stared at him in shock for a moment, then shook his head. "Hamish, I can understand that. He likes you, and of course you would want to keep your rival's son. As a prize, as a protégée—"
"Ooh, right on the money, Sherlock—"
"But what makes you think you can keep John? An ex-soldier who hate you, under your control?!" Sherlock laughed wildly. "The Master must have forgotten a few brain cells when he restored you, Jim."
Jim smiled placidly. "It was John's decision, not mine. I made him an offer he couldn't refuse."
"You threatened him?" Sherlock stepped closer to Jim.
"If you consider riches and a good school for Hamish a threat…really I just offered him Sebastian's old position." Jim met Sherlock's eyes from under his brow and bit his bottom lip, licking it and slowly drawing it out of his mouth, hoping to strike a nerve.
In one of swift move, Sherlock grabbed Moriarty by his jacket and shoved him against the wall. "Don't lie to me," Sherlock snarled.
Jim squealed with joy at Sherlock's reaction, some taunting laughter escaping his lips. He shrugged as best as he could, pinned as he was. "All right, you've caught me…I may have given him the impression that if he doesn't do what I say, I will kill you…and possibly Hamish, although I'd really rather prefer to keep him around…you know…" He frowned up at Sherlock mockingly. "…Teach him some tricks of the trade, raise him as my own. I might have to change his name, though. The name Hamish makes me want to gag. How does James Junior sound to you?"
Sherlock pressed him harder against the wall. His son was not going to be taken in by this monster. "What happens if I kill you right now? No mobile phones or computer codes to signal your lackeys."
Jim winced as his head slammed against the wall. "Um, ow! Don't be predictable Sherlock, it's unbecoming on a man of your caliber. If I don't walk out of here in an allotted amount of time—unharmed, I might add—" he looked down pointedly at his own feet, which were now barely grazing the floor. "—They will kill John. I know, not my most creative bit of work, but it's certainly effective…isn't it?"
Sherlock yanked his hands away, letting Jim fall back to his feet, and Jim straightened his suit, annoyed. "We both know this little arrangement can't last long. I will find you within a day with the whole of Scotland Yard at my back. Child abduction warrants a long jail sentence, even in 1895. Don't tell me you expect me to let you leave with John and Hamish."
"That's exactly what I expect. I've got people watching you, Sherlock. I've told them to keep an eye on you and if you start getting too curious, or looking too hard, you'll be killed."
"That would be ambitious of them," Sherlock sneered.
Jim smiled. "You're only a bag of bones like the rest of us, Sherlock. Although…perhaps you're right. Perhaps I'll just tell them to start by getting rid of that lovely housekeeper you've got. Cute little thing, isn't she? And of course, I could give my men the option of not killing her." he dropped his voice to a serious deadpan. "I'm sure she could provide…other services. And your landlord, your dear little writer friend, could be offed next if you persist. Also, know that if I hear that you're not behaving, I'll kill John and send you his face in the post. I don't need another Sebastian, it would just be terribly convenient."
Sherlock's heart dropped, but he succeeded in maintaining his cold, masklike expression. "Why bother keeping me alive at all then? Why not kill me now? There's nothing to stop you."
"Because, Sherlock, this is so much more fun…and… if you'll recall, I don't think I ever properly burned the heart out of you." Jim looked irritated, then closed his eyes for a moment, crooning, "Nooo, I didn't get that quite right before." He glared at Sherlock's chest and jabbed a finger at it twice. "It's still there. Beating away." He sighed, then brushed off and straightened Sherlock's lapels. "Ah, well. If at first you don't succeed…" His mouth drifted into a grin.
Sherlock's eyes were hard as he stared with malice into Jim's. He enunciated firmly, "As long as John and Hamish are alive and I am alive, Jim, you will not be able to rest. I will not rest until you are dead on the ground and I have burned away every last scrap of you. I will blot your name from the past and the future. You are not winning this."
Jim drew back, mock surprise on his face, his mouth forming an "O." "That sounded like a threat, my dear! As much as I could go on about how amusing that is, I really must be off. We wouldn't want my men to think you'd done something nasty to me and prematurely slit John's throat, would we? How embarrassing!"
Sherlock glared at him. He felt powerless, and he loathed it.
Jim turned to leave, then pivoted back. "Oh, one more thing, almost slipped my mind! I have a message for you from John." He grinned, then mimicked John's voice, throwing in a few sniffles. "I'm sorry, and I'll see you soon…" He sneered, then stepped closer. "And this is from him as well."
To Sherlock's horror, Jim stepped closer, leaned up and softly kissed him. Their lips only met for a moment before Sherlock shoved him away, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "You'll be seeing me soon, Jim," he spat out.
Jim giggled and stepped backwards toward the door. "No, you won't. John, Hamish, and I won't be seeing you ever again. Isn't sharing fun? I should've thought this up ages ago! If anyone enters or exists this building in the next hour, consider him dead. Ta-ta!"
He waltzed out, leaving Sherlock standing in shock. When Jim reached the bottom of the steps, he sidled up to Mary, who was listening fearfully, her face blanched. He touched her chin so that she was staring up at him, then ran his thumb softly along it. "If you value your life, dear, I wouldn't recommend letting anyone in or out of that door for a while." He smirked as Mary shuddered, taking his hat from her trembling hands, then strolled out of 221B whistling.
Sherlock watched from the window as Jim got into a hansom cab and disappeared. Was John in the cab? He couldn't bear the thought of John being so close but being unable to help him. And Hamish, too. It was too much.
He stalked over to the kitchen table and upturned it in a swift, violent movement, getting only mild satisfaction as it hit the wooden floor with a thudding crash.
Mary timidly entered the room a moment later, keeping close to the doorway. "Mr. Holmes…?" she ventured.
Sherlock fell to the floor to sit, and stared lamely at his violin. His voice was dazed. "He took them, Mary. He took both of them."
"Doctor Watson and Hamish? How?" Mary took a few steps closer, then lowered herself down next to the distraught man.
"He wanted to burn me. Burn the heart out of me." Sherlock stared at the fireplace darkly.
Mary rested a hand on his shoulder, a lump in her throat. She tried to clear it and to keep her voice steady. "I'm…I'm sure everything will turn out all right. If anyone can find them, you can. All those stories John's told Mr. Doyle about you…if they're true…everything will be all right."
Sherlock sat in despair for a few more moments, then it was as if Mary's words finally found him, and he sprang to his feet. He immediately began pacing, fingers steepled under his chin. "You're right. There's a way, there's always a way. There's always a chink in the armor—think! I've been stupid, Mary, so bloody stupid. He has the advantage now, but he is not going to come out on top. He can't."
