Smiling bitterly up at Mary John carries on,"Then, just to spite him, I didn't look at the attachment. Well that and I had to deal with Harry glaring holes in the side of my head. So I closed the machine down and..."
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Turning to engage his sister's venomous expression John tries to figure out how to answer her questions. Sighing deeply he rubs a hand over his eyes and down over his mouth; as though trying to rub off the humiliation coursing through him. Not baring to hold eye contact John fiddles with the cuff of his shirt as he tries to answer.
"I'm sorry, but when you didn't guess right away I was happy, like I might be able to keep from loosing face in front of one more person. It was bad enough that Lestrade, Mycroft, Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson all knew; I was so happy I had someone in my life who wouldn't know what depraved things Moriarty did to me! I hate the fact that it felt like they were all waiting for me to fall apart. I'm just a victim to them now."
Instantly Harry's demeanour changes, her eyes softening a bit, but the glint in her eyes remains, "Jonny, let's get this straight right now," gesturing fiercely with her right hand, enumerating her points, she launches into it, "I couldn't think less of you, because I know who you are, better than any of them! Nor will I be waiting for you to fall apart because I know what your made of; military grade John Hamish Watson. I think your doing your friends a disservice there, none of them is thick little brother. Lastly, I will not treat you like a victim, or feel badly for you because it happened, you knew the man you were working for (better even than I did, I think)." Pointing at him suddenly with the other hand, "but Jonny I am furious and if I get a chance for revenge I will kill him for touching you."
Stifling an inappropriate chuckle at his sister's protectiveness, "Okay Harry, you and I will someday have our pound of flesh." He offers up his hand to seal the deal and they shake firmly.
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"That was it then, she knew my deepest secret and now so do you. Knowledge I had hoped to keep anyone else from discovering and yet it follows my every move, like a sign around my neck." Waving a hand away from himself, as if to wave the issue away, John sighs, "So it was a couple days before I remembered the warning."
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Pursing his lips in irritation at himself John opens his email again and checks the attachment to the video. This time he waited till his sister was in the tub, the lights dimmed, with some light music playing to relax her. The two of them haven't been out of the hotel much and cabin fever had begun to set in.
Allowing himself to wince, closing his left eye and tilting his head slightly away, John mentally prepares himself for the worst as he taps on the attachment to the email from Moriarty. What opens up surprises him more than the video humiliated him. An electronic booking for two first class tickets from Paris to Cologne stares back at him. Cursing at the screen John scribbles off a note about going to Gare du Nord station. Praying Harry listens to his advice and stays in the room, John dashes off down the hallway.
An hour later John is about to rip his hair out, the man behind the divider changing the tickets is now lecturing him on changing his mind twice in their conversation.
"Monsieur?! Do you not understand every time I begin to change this and you change your mind again you accrue a changing charge? You comprehend this, non?"
John does his level best to smile and quip back, "But what's the good of exploring if your tied into a schedule?"
"But of course, Monsieurur. Right away... But perhaps buying on the day of travel is more your, well..." The posh well turned out man gives John a careful look, scanning head to toes. Then with a light toss of one shoulder, "your style seems a bit 'on the go', maybe cashing this in and just buying on the day would be best. Any pre-booking savings you'd have you've obliterated with these changes!"
John tries to smother the giggles, that threaten to make him laugh in the man's face, "Can I do that? My Uncle bought the ticket for me, so it would have to be cash..."
Shaking his head the Frenchman starts typing and muttering in French under his breath. Moments later he counts out just under three hundred and fifty Euros onto the counter and pushes them through to John. "Bonne chance Monsieur!"
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"Needless to say Harry was very put out that I went alone, but it being done we packed our bags and left the next day taking an erratic rout to Italy via coach buses." John goes quiet for a moment, staring out into the inky black sky.
"John?" Mary's voice tipping up in a quizzical tone at the end, "you don't have to tell it all to me tonight, right? Here have some bread and cheese."
John takes the food, but shakes his head no, "I want to get it out, as much at once as possible so we can get past this horrendous conversation. Then maybe I can think about something else for once, you know what I mean?" Mary nods wordlessly. "Alright then, when we got to Toulouse I risked looking at my email again, god I should have known better. As soon as I touched my inbox some nasty virus opened up another video from Moriarty."
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A cold shudder runs through John as he sees those dark, glassy eyes staring out at him. For a few moments he's frozen there looking into the smirking countenance of Jim Moriarty, then his ears register more sounds. Off camera there is a rustling, clinking sound that immediately has John shifting forward in his seat, 'Oh god, Sherlock!' flits through his mind as he recognises the sound.
Moriarty chuckles, the hollow, faked tonality of it unnerving John even more, "I can almost see you worrying about who I have here with me, no worries now, it's no one you know." The camera pans slowly back till a good portion of Moriarty is exposed and the left shoulder of someone is clear in the frame. "But maybe it's someone you recognise Jonny?"
Narrowing his eyes, John tries to see something define-able about the person struggling in chains. Almost immediately he breathes a huge sigh of relief as he recognises that the shoulder in question could not - ever - belong to Sherlock. It is by far too thickly muscled and doesn't have a low enough body to fat ratio.
One sentence jumps out at John, from the narrative of sick things Moriarty is saying, "I do regret not taking my time with you Jonny, but really I know I was too angry to be able to leave you alive at the end, if I did. So this should compensate for that missed opportunity."
John feels an almost physical sinking sensation in his stomach, as his ears buzz slightly, 'Oh god, he can't mean...' Unable to even voice it in his thoughts John watches, the sinking sensation escalating to a lurching feeling, as he realises the reason he hadn't recognised the shoulder in frame. There is no modified starburst of scar tissue. The camera pans back a bit more and the back of a familiar looking greying dirty blond head comes into view, as well as a copy the former soldier's upper body straining in chains at Moriarty's feet.
"Just think of him as your stand in John."
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Here is a short chapter with another cliffy, just thought you'd like it now as 3pm today marks both the beginning of Half Term and the Invasion Of The In-laws, so for the next week and a half I am both be-childrened and be-guested, so I doubt there will be lots of opportunity to write! Can't you just see it, "What have you been Writing there dear?" "Oh... Porn, well really, just now, a rape scene, in a slash fic, about a soldier who's gone MIA."
I think she'd be bullying my partner into suing for custody of the kids in ten minutes or less don't you? ;)
Not many actual notes, except 'Bonne chance' is French for good luck. That was one of the scenes I giggled over writing because I have the Frenchman's exact look and mannerisms in my head. I can even hear his voice clear as a bell! My last two read throughs are out loud and when I read that bit I modify the spelling to fit a French accent, like 'this' being 'dis' instead. But I didn't want to loose clarity for humours sake, so I didn't write it out that way.