I do not own BBC Sherlock
.o0Sherlock0o.
The day blurs away, soon the work sucks up any feelings I have. Moriarty is running me ragged on all his schemes. If I say no, John and Sherlock die. I can't show how I feel, I can't let Moriarty see. I know my pain only brings him pleasure so I subdue it. I stuff it down into the deepest part of my being. I go numb.
"Ready?" The earphone buzzes into my head.
"Yes." I murmur. The suit is tailored to fit me well. Hiding any curve that may not be completely covered by the bindings holding them down. My hair is pulled into a ponytail and flipped over my shoulder. Moriarty doesn't want to completely trick my father, it would take prosthetic's and wedged shoes for that. He just wants him to think for a second that I am indeed Moriarty. I stand in the dingy car park. The lights flickering somewhere far enough away to obscure my form. Footsteps, a single pair. John's not with him, good. I don't know if I can handle them both looking upon me with the soon to be hate in their eyes. I slide my hands casually into the slacks, ducking my head. My father stands silent behind me.
"Wha-" Thirty seconds. It took him that little of time to realize it wasn't Moriarty.
"Great day for a murder, wouldn't you say?" I call, using my best Moriarty tone. I don't even need the script they've given me. I know Moriarty's speech and mannerisms well. I turn around. Sherlock's eyes go wide. I keep my face steady, using the recent pain of Kier's death to help tamper down any emotion. I want to Sherlock, wrap him in a hug and beg him to take me home to John. But I can't.
"Scarlett." He frowns. I favor my right leg, smirking.
"You've been solving the cases rapidly, bravo." I sing, using the taunting tone I've heard a thousand times. Sherlock gives me a wry smile, a short harsh chuckle leaves his throat.
"The criminals, they kept saying Miss Moriarty. I thought he might have had a sex change." Sherlock admitted. I smile back, breaking character for a moment.
"Wouldn't of been too much of a leap." I counter and he laughs honestly. He takes a step forward and the buzz in my ear sounds in warning.
"Stop." I order. He obeys, his long legs halting their stride. He looks at me wearily.
"How is he blackmailing you? Our lives?" 'Exactly.' I want to answer. Pain in my chest. Instead I sigh heavily, and stare at the damp cement ceiling.
"Nothing so dull, I want to work for him. It's exhilarating." I answer, and to be honest it is. My mind is constantly challenged with new data, forcing me to expand my intellect rapidly. But none of its worth John or Sherlock. None of it. I let the truth slip into my voice, selling it to him. His eyes narrow.
"You warned us at the airport, you were trying to escape." He says, his voice tight. He doesn't want to believe it. Doesn't want to think his own daughter has betrayed him. I haven't. I would never. But I have to put on a good show. The more entertained Moriarty is the more chance of John and Sherlock surviving.
"Before the fun happened." I shrug with indifference. Sherlock is angry now.
"John wouldn't believe that." He scowls. He always turns to John's mentality when he is at a loss, he tries to see how John would handle such stressful situations that demand something akin to emotion. I grin at him like a shark, I know I must look slimy. I must look exactly like Moriarty.
"But you would." I challenge. He grits his teeth, his curls bouncing as he looks away sharply. The silence in the car park is deafening.
"No," He says strongly, the sound of his voice holding so much conviction is strange. I've only ever heard the tone when he was proving himself correct on one of his cases or deductions, never something relating to actual belief in another human.
"You wouldn't betray John and I." He finishes, his eyes daring me. I slip for a moment, my eyes going wide with shock. It's enough and all the tension in his body floats out. He keeps his face stern, like he is still trying having trouble taking it in. But that flash of emotion on my face gave him everything he needed to know. He trusts me.
"I would, and I have. Funny thing about betrayal, to break someones trust you have to have actually trusted them in the first place. I don't think you'd ever be that foolish, daddy." I slither out the word. Sherlock plays along so well I'm not sure if he still believes me. But this is Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes. My father. He knows I would never betray him. I'm sure of it.
"Where is Moriarty?" He demands, eyes blazing. He doesn't like how I'm speaking, thinks I'm being forced. I wonder if he knew I was saying these awful things on impulse if he would be impressed or repulsed?
"You're looking at em'." I wink.
"Brilliant! Absolutely wonderful!" Moriarty cries, clapping wildly as I enter his office. I struggle with the breasts binding and Sebastian blushes.
"Criminal mastermind spending his time breaking up families, aren't you just terrifying." I snap. His eyes narrow.
"But breaking you is just so much fun." Moriarty grinned, his eyes still narrow. Anger burns in my chest.
"You'll never break me." I grit. His eyes dance and he smiles.
"Oh? But I already have." He laughs. Bastard.
I'm sitting on the rooftop of the building I live in. It's basically a prison with curtains and marble floors. I'm folded up against the wind, sitting on the thick ledge of the concrete roof. If I jumped I wouldn't survive. I remember reading the old newspaper articles of my father doing the same thing. He never did tell me how he passed it off as a suicide. I wished he had, maybe at this moment I could do the same thing. I could pretend to be dead and carted away. I could run off to some foreign country and leave a anonymous message on John's blog. They could come and find me. Save me.
"How are you going to just stand there?" I sigh. I don't not need saving. I'm not a child anymore, and I'm not an idiot. I can save myself, I think. X shuffles his feet, silent. I scuff my foot over the edge and watch some pebbles fall aimlessly to the ground below.
"I never thought I'd be so caught up in this world. I always thought it was my father who was important. I never even considered I was valuable." I mutter. Silence.
"That's probably the worst part ..." I say. I teeter, looking over the edge. If I just leaned forward a fraction, it could be over. Strong hands grip my shoulders.
"I don't hate this at all. I'm enjoying organizing the heists, having the power to control men who run counties I've never even heard of. I love the puzzles, how difficult it is to read these criminals and their motives. I love it all. I love how important I am." I drop my head against my knees. The hands still on my shoulders.
"I'm as terrible as Moriarty." I whisper. X says nothing.
"I only wish he didn't have control of me. That's what I hate, I hate being his tool."
"Then fight back." X says. His voice is choked and deep, like he's trying to disguise it. Maybe the burns affect his throat. I instantly think back to John, telling me to fight for myself. To never give up. I smile.
"Okay."
Moriarty's hand slides up and down my hip as he speaks. I'm standing by his side in the pale purple dress that reveals every bump on my body. Moriarty looks handsome in a fitted dark suit and matching purple tie. His hair is slicked back and his teeth freshly whitened as he speaks to the dictator he helped overthrow Somalia.
"And who might this be?" The man hummed, his voice thick and gooey. His dark skin made his white smile stand out sharply.
"My protegee, Scarlett Moriarty." Moriarty introduces. My name paired with him makes bile rise in my throat. The man takes my hand, brushing his lips over my knuckles. I wipe my wet hand on Moriarty's suit discreetly.
"Your wife is so young and beautiful." The man chuckled approvingly. I flinched, the way Moriarty was touching me there was no way someone could assume I was his daughter.
"Children are the future." Moriarty cackled. Sherlock had contact with me. Using someone from his homeless network to 'accidentally' bump into me on the street. They slipped a paper into my pocket, giving me helpful details for what I was about to do. I ignored both the men, glancing up at the railing. He signaled me.
"Darling, I need to go powder my nose." I drawl sarcastically. Jim frowns disapprovingly, he thinks I act childish sometimes. He's one to talk.
"Hurry up." He sends me off with a pat on the rear which I have to force everything in me to not reel around and slam my fist in his face. Hurriedly I ascend the stairs.
"Is everything ready?" I whisper. Tech nods, he's sweating profusely. I don't blame him.
"This is crazy! Jim Moriarty is always prepared, he'll see right through us and have our heads!" Tech whined. I shove him aside, mounting the projector on the balcony railing. There were representatives from all over the world here, trying to negotiate peace with the Dictator we had just restored to power. The British prime minister was milling around with his wife. It was perfect.
"Lights." I snap. Tech hurriedly flickers them down from his phone. The man is a genius. A large light shines on me from where Tech presses it on.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen." I start nervously. Jim stands in the center of the crowd, talking to an American representative. Everyone looks up.
"Somalia has been in a civil war for years. President Ahmed brought his country into a time of peace after years of suffering. Many of you are wondering how he could have been overthrown by the Dictator that he defeated four years ago. The answer to that question is the man before you, James Moriarty!" I shouted. Tech directed a second spotlight to light him up as he made his way to the exit. He stood stark still, a slow grin spreading over his face. I caught him. He couldn't leave now with all eyes on him.
"Here are the plans of invasion that Moriarty procured, along with loans of money and weapons for the rebels to overtake President Ahmed's military. If you think this is James Moriarty's first time assisting in catastrophic events then you are dead wrong." My voice rings loud above the murmuring people. The slideshow shows all of the blueprints, receipts, and plans that Moriarty ensued.
'I need you to assassinate the President before the eighth ... I don't care, just do it!' Moriarty's voice echoed from the speakers.
"I have evidence proving that he was the one to directly call for the President's murder." I reply.
'All the thefts? Stealing Big Ben's clock hand? Writing my name on the bridge? What was it all for?' My voice is now in the room, I sound upset.
'I was testing a new recruit is all, seeing if he was as good as he said he was.' Moriarty is amused.
"Him defacing iconic British monuments were merely a test for one of his future employees." I spit, this instantly catches the Prime Ministers interest, his face turns red with anger.
'Mr. Moriarty, she seems to be signaling her father.' A guards voice replies, it's from the day at the airport.
'Blow it up!" Moriarty screeches.
"The phone call that exploded the London Airport, killing hundreds, and injuring thousands." I continue. People are in an outrage. Moriarty is being held down as he stares up at me, smirking.
'I want to know where Kier is. Now.' I demand, the conversation from a couple of weeks ago sprouting up from the speakers.
'He'd dead.' You can hear the smile in his voice.
'How?'
'I killed him so I could see your reaction.'
"And for brutally murdering people for his own pleasure. I charge James Moriarty for conspiring to commit crimes against peace, waging wars of aggression, robbery, and crimes against humanity." James looks at me with a maddening grin.
"Good!" He laughs, struggling weakly against his captors. The dictator is also being held.
"One thing though!" He calls over his shoulder as he is being hauled from the lavish room. I knew it wouldn't be that easy, he's too smart and cautious. John and Sherlock are in trouble. He has a plan. I can feel it, I can see it in his eyes.
"What did I miss?" I demand from the balcony. He kicks at a man restraining him. I see X drop down and shove the men aside. I stare in shock as X easily battles the men away, gripping Moriarty by the arm as he tries to make a getaway. Moriarty holds his ground and rips the mask from X's face.
"Your little boyfriend isn't dead." Pale brown eyes frantically scanning for more enemies. Slender lips parted as he inhales sharp breathes. His large hand stays on Moriarty, protective of him. Short blonde-brown hair is sticking up wildly, his chiseled face damp.
"No one seems to get the joke. X; like ex-boyfriend." Jim explains. But his words are thousands of miles away.
"Kier." I whisper. Our eyes connect.
