Two chapters in one go? Oh, it's like Christmas come early! I don't own shit. Well, who would?


Chapter 8

I've got it! The words, they are in a rhythm, a code. Oh, it's all so simple now! How could I have not seen this before?! The notes the length of the words in the order they're in, oh this is brilliant, I didn't notice before because I wasn't looking! They all have the same or almost the same paragraph structure and the words in each paragraph show the date and the place of the next suicide. Oh you are a beauty! Personalised notes that make actual, logical sense and yet have this hidden code. Yes, definitely Moriarty. And definitely to catch my attention. Now this is interesting. I have to tell John of the developments.

"John!" No answer. "John?" I check the time, damn, he'll be at work for another few hours. Damn, I can't show off at anyone. Lestrade! I'll call Lestrade, he'll want to know about the developments! And I should probably look at that half finished note as well. Boring.

I walk into the sitting room to retrieve my mobile as John isn't here to retrieve it for me. A noise comes from the kitchen. "Oh, Mrs Hudson could-" That is not Mrs Hudson. Unless she has decided to wear suits, become at least thirty years younger and become a man. "You're not Mrs Hudson." I say. God, I've turned into John and his stating the obvious. When did this happen?

"No shit, Sherlock." He replies, turning with a smirk. Always so suave.

"Moriarty." I remain stationary. I'm not fully recovered, if I move after such a shock, anything could happen.

"Sherlock. We meet again, always a pleasure." That smile, so like a shark.

"You were dead."

"So were you, don't you remember?"

"I've spent the last three years clearing away your network, even if you are alive, you're crippled now."

"Oh Sherlock, so naïve! Did it not seem a little too easy? A little too simple? Did you never think I might have another one? Another network run by a different name. Not quite as extensive as the first, I admit, but I've had the last three years with nothing to focus on but it." Another smile. Bastard. During this little speech, he has come out of the kitchen and started pacing around the room. "And now I've come to collect my prize: you. You shall be by little pet." He rushes towards me, invading my personal space. "Won't that be fun?" His face is inches, no, centimetres from mine. He has no right. He is not John.

"Get out of here, Moriarty." I don't step back, not yet. "Get out of here and don't come back. Don't you realise this flat's bugged? Cameras too." I step back. "Thank Mycroft. As annoying as it is, my Brother's paranoia does have some uses." I smile a joyless smile. "I reckon you have about ten minutes before a squat team comes bursting through that door so fast even the flies won't be able to escape. I suggest you go out the way you came in and quickly."

He smiles and turns to go but doesn't say anything. Then he starts whistling. After a moment, I recognise the tune; it's We'll Meet Again by Vera Lynn. The words of which came to mind:

We'll meet again,

Don't know where,

Don't know when.

All I know is we'll meet again.

Just as he is about to go, I grab him by the arm and swing him round so we are face to face. I didn't think I had that much strength back yet. "Oh, and by the way, if I hear of any harm coming to Mrs Hudson or anyone else I know, even if it can't be put down to you; I will hunt you down and you will suffer so much, what you did to me will look like an insect bite on a summer's day. Have you got that?"

Just that infuriating smile again and a brush down of his suit and he's gone.

I don't even make it to the sofa before I collapse.


Ah yes, disappointingly short but action-packed! Well, that's Christmas for you. Please review.