February 24th
They were in a small patch of forest now, and she'd already tried to escape once, but Sebastian Moran stepping out from behind a tree with a wicked grin killed the idea of running instantly. As she sat in the grass waiting for Moriarty to appear, Jane rubbed a bruise across her cheekbone absently, wishing there was something, anything she could do.
"How do you like the sunshine, Doctor?" Moriarty asked, then grinned at her surprise.
"What – where the hell did you come from?"
"Oh, I like convenience. The road's not too far from here, and I had some non-Holmes business to attend to this morning." His eyes narrowed, and the good humor dropped from his face. "I don't recall marking your face quite so recently, Ms. Watson," he commented, his voice dangerously quiet.
She couldn't hide a smirk as Moran realized his employer's anger and turned pale.
"I – she tried to run, sir." He hoped keeping things simple would keep Moriarty from getting violent, but the mastermind stalked closer, glaring like he wanted to hang Moran from one the trees. Once he was about a foot away, the barely-restrained rage obvious, Moriarty took a deep breath.
"Watson is mine. If you make a mark on her again, I will ssskin you, do you understand?"
The gunman managed a terrified nod and a strained "Yes, sir" before escaping to guard duty. Finally, Moriarty turned to Jane, strode over to where she was sitting, and dropped to his knees beside her. She held as still as a bird hypnotized by a snake while his hands gently touched her face, examining the bruises. After a few moments, he stood up and stared at her impassively.
"Well, this has ruined the whole place. Damn! And I try so hard to have quality employees, but no one really gets it, do they? Ah, well. It doesn't matter if he ruined my mood; things must be done according to plan. Let's get on with it, Doctor." He walked over to large bag she hadn't noticed before and began unpacking ropes of various sizes, peering at them as though he hadn't decided which to use.
"This is going to be… blunt, isn't it?" she said grimly. He turned and grinned at her.
"So glad you have some observant sense in that pretty blonde head of yours. Of course, otherwise dear old Sherly would've gotten bored months ago, wouldn't he?"
Sherlock poured over the lab results and microscopes slides and crime-scene photos slightly frantically. There was too much irrelevant data, too much clutter from the fields. Something was definitely not right, but he couldn't put his finger on it, and that was driving him crazy. Moriarty had a flair for the dramatic, and he wouldn't smother his clues like this. Think, dammit!
"… Sherlock? It's Donovan. Ah, Lestrade sent me to ask if you wanted to hear the latest tape again. He said the – the first time – it – it might have been harder to recognize a hint."
"I appreciate that you are feeling more meek than usual due to my dilemma, Sally. Tell Lestrade that that's actually a good idea." She started to respond, but ended up leaving silently.