A/N. Ok so disclaimer, I don't own Sherlock, the characters, the dialog, (unless Anna is involved) ect ect. You guys get it. Chapter 8 will be up probably sometime this weekend. Thanks for following and favoriting. It's very much appreciated:) xxx
Chapter 7
"Let him go!" Anna screamed. Her voice echoed off the pool walls.
"What would you like me to make him say next?" John's voice was shaky. Sherlock started walking in circles, looking around the pool. The red dot of a sniper danced threateningly on John's chest.
"Gottle of geer, gottle of geer, gottle-"
"Stop that." Sherlock ordered. John stopped.
"Nice touch this, the pool. Where little Carl died. I stopped him," John squeezed his eyes shut, trying to find the strength to go on. "I can stop John Watson too." His voice cracked. "Stop his heart."
John looked down at the explosives on his chest, then up at Sherlock. His eyes were pleading for help. Sherlock actually looked scared.
"Who are you?" Sherlock called out, turning in circles again.
Across the pool, a door opened. Anna clenched her fists and closed her eyes. This is it, she told herself.
"I gave you my number," a voice called out. Anna opened her eyes. "I thought you might call."
Anna sighed and stepped back a bit. A man emerged from behind the door. His ebony hair was slicked back and his black eyes stared coldly. He wore an expensive looking suit. His hands were shoved in his pockets as he walked toward them.
"Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?" He asked Sherlock, grinning a little bit. Sherlock pulled out his gun and pointed it at the man.
"Both."
"Jim Moriarty," the man said introducing himself. "Hi!"
Sherlock looked at him a bit confused.
"Jim?" The man continued. "Jim from the hospital?" He was mimicking Sherlock's thoughts. Sherlock held the gun with both hands to steady his grip. He was shaking out of rage.
"Oh, did I really leave such a fleeting impression? But then I suppose, that was rather the point."
Sherlock looked over at John, and then back at Moriarty, steadying his grip.
"Oh don't be silly, someone else is holding the rifle. I don't like getting my hands dirty." As Jim continued to walk towards them, his gaze shifted towards Anna. She didn't flinch like she wanted to. She just stared bravely at the man she feared most.
"I see you found yourself a dance partner, Sherlock." He grinned at her devilishly. "My sister, of all people too. You really don't have the best luck in the world do you?"
John's head snapped up and starred horrified at Anna. Sherlock shot her the coldest glance she'd ever received. Anna glared at Jim.
"Oh didn't you tell them?" He asked pretending not to know. "Well, they know now. Don't they? Annabel Moriarty. The name suits you sweetheart." He winked at her before turning his attention back to Sherlock.
"I've given you a glimpse Sherlock, just a teansy glimpse of what I've got going on out there in that big bad world. I'm a specialist, you see. Like you," his eye brows raised at Sherlock.
"Dear Jim, please will you fix it for me. To get rid of my lovers nasty sister. Dear Jim please will you fix it for me," Jim smiled as Sherlock mocked his clients. "To disappear to South America."
"Just so!"
"The consulting criminal. Brilliant."
"Isn't it?"
Sherlock's gaze shifted back to John, who looked up sadly. His face was the face of a man who was about to die.
"No one ever gets to me," Jim said. "And no one ever will."
Sherlock cocked his gun. "I did."
Jim didn't even blink. "You've come the closest. But now you're in my way."
"Thank you."
"I didn't mean it as a compliment."
"Yes you did."
"Yeah ok I did," Jim's shoulders reached his ears as he talked. "But the flirting's over Sherlock, daddy's had enough now," he said in a sing-song voice that sent shivers up Anna's spine. "I've shown you what I can do. I cut loose all those people, all those little problems. Even 30 million quid just to get you to come out and play."
Jim continued to walk closer and Sherlock's eyes kept darting towards John to make sure he was still alright.
"So take this as a friendly warning, my dear. Back off." They stared at each other for a moment before Jim started talking again. Sherlock was being awfully quite.
"Although, I have loved this. This little game of ours. Playing Jim from IT," his voiced changed a bit, as though he were changing characters in a story. "Playing gay. Did you like that touch with the underwear?"
"People have died." Sherlock stated.
"That's what people DO!" Jim's voice echoed off the walls. There was a hint of something in his eyes. A hint of pain. A memory that Sherlock's words had triggered, but it was gone as quickly as it came.
"I will stop you," Sherlock promised.
"No you won't." Moriarty shook his head, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world that he was unstoppable.
"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked John. John didn't say anything. He just looked at Sherlock. Jim got uncomfortably close to John.
"You can talk, Johnny boy. Go ahead," he urged. John closed his eyes. And nodded once at Sherlock.
"Take it," Sherlock said pulling out the memory stick.
"Oh! That," Moriarty walked past John and took the stick from Sherlock. "The missile plans." He gazed at Sherlock as he planted a kiss on the stick. "Boring! I could've gotten those anywhere." And to Sherlock's dismay, Moriarty threw the stick into the pool.
"Sherlock run!" John said suddenly as he jumped on Moriarty, his arms wrapped around the other man's neck, the red dot now danced on both of them. Sherlock stepped back.
"O-oh!" Moriarty exclaimed. "Good! Very good!" He said laughing.
"If your sniper pulls the trigger Mr. Moriarty," John told him, "then we both go up."
"Isn't he sweet." Moriarty said to Sherlock. "I can see why you like having him around. But then, people do get so sentimental about their pets." John gave him a good tug on his neck.
"And so touchingly loyal," Jim turned his face up to John. "But...oops!" He cried out and John squeezed him harder.
"You've rather shown your hand there, doctor Watson." Moriarty said, laughing as the red dot traveled up to Sherlock's head. Sherlock closed his eyes, as if waiting for the trigger to be pulled. John got off Moriarty and put his arms out as the dot came back to his chest. Moriarty sighed and gave his suit a single brush. "Westwood," he said. Anna rolled her eyes. He'd always loved to wear expensive things.
"Do you know what happens if you don't leave me alone Sherlock, to you?" Jim asked.
"Oh let me guess," Sherlock said sarcastically. "I get killed."
"Kill you? No- no don't be obvious I mean I'm going to kill you someday, but I don't want to rush it though. I'm saving it up for something special. No no no no no. If you don't stop prying, I will burn you. I will burn the /heart/ out of you." Jim half smiled at Sherlock, waiting for his response.
"I have been reliably informed that I don't have one." Sherlock said. Jim's eyes shifted over to Anna for just a moment before saying,
"But we both know that's not quite true." He smiled at the detective.
"Well, I'd better be off. So nice to have had a proper chat." Jim said casually as if this were a conversation with some mates and not a death threat.
"What if I was to shoot you know? Right now?" Sherlock's position tightened. His gun was aimed right in between the mans eyes.
"Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face." Jim's eye browns raised and his mouth formed an 'O' as he showed Sherlock his 'surprised face'. "Because I'd be surprised Sherlock. Really, I would. And just a teansy but, disappointed."
Sherlock's finger tapped the trigger. Why wouldn't he pull it?
"And of course, you wouldn't be able to cherish it for very long. Ciao, Sherlock Holmes." He said as he backed into the doorway the John had come through.
"Catch. You. Later." Sherlock said, moving so the gun was pointing through the doorway.
"No you won't!" A sing-song voice responded.
