I've been busy with College things as this school year winds down, so I apologize for this chapter being late! I hope to have the next chapter up quicker. Thanks to the people who reviewed/Favorited/followed this story, and to my wonderful beta-reader!
With a fatigued sigh Mycroft Holmes looked away from the laptop screen that was currently showing the live CCTV feed of Cardiff, Wales. On the screen was the annoying criminal Moriarty, and the woman who Mycroft thought was somewhat disillusioned about her boyfriend's job. He had been carefully keeping tabs on both Ms. Fowell and Moriarty, and had even gone as far as confronting the Fowell girl about her activities with the notorious criminal, but that plan had bore no fruit.
He shut the silver laptop lid, hearing it lock into place with a faint click, and leaned back in his chair, allowing his eyes to drift shut for a few well-deserved minutes of quiet. The man… No, the spider that was Jim Moriarty had spent many weeks playing a malicious game with his younger brother, and had attempted to contact Mycroft multiple times during their game. Now, with Lacie involved in the situation, Mycroft's level of apprehension was increasing rapidly.
His apprehension was not rising from any sort of feelings for Lacie, other than the feeling of annoyance. With Lacie living in the flat beneath his brother, it provided Moriarty an easy way into Sherlock and his blogger's flat. With another sigh of trepidation, Mycroft sat up in his chair, and pressed a small button on his desk. Within seconds there were several soft raps on the thick, dark wooden door that was the only (publicly) known entrance to Mycroft's office.
"Come in." He said, resting his arms on his desk. A tall, slender man in a dark suit entered in through the door, and approached the desk. Without waiting for the man to speak, Mycroft slid a piece of glossy paper across the desk to the man. "It seems that now would be the perfect time to bring Moriarty in for a little… chat. His current location is in Cardiff, Wales, however I'm certain he will be returning soon. Be sure to politely request this meeting of him, and notify me when he agrees."
There was no answer from the man, who promptly nodded and took the offered photo, an average quality shot of the dark haired man and the dark blue-haired woman walking across a street. The woman had her gaze fixed on something across the street, one arm linked with the man's arm, the other pointing in the distance to something that the CCTV camera didn't capture. The man had his face turned directly towards the camera that had taken the photo, his dark eyes cold and his mouth set in a sly smirk. He turned and left the room, quickly notifying the proper people to execute the orders given to him.
One Day and Five Hours Later
The black car that slid up to the curb next to Jim Moriarty was expected, though not expected at that moment. If someone were to ask about the 'abduction' Jim would have stated that it was less of an abduction and more of a business meeting. Of course, in other meetings Jim is not pulled into a strange car, handcuffed, and held in the back seat with a black bag over his head. And while he did request several times to meet with the man who had set about his abduction, he did not ask to be treated so roughly and was disappointed in the blunt, brutish method that he was brought around to where he was now.
It was mildly disappointing to be whisked away only a few hours before the exclusive gathering that was being held at a very influential (and very corrupt) politician's house, but Jim was appeased by the fact that they had taken him before the party, and therefore he was dressed in plainclothes and not in the exquisite Kinton K-50 that he had specifically made for him that year. The rough metal chair and cold concrete room that he was in would have insured that the exquisite material be ruined. The hood that had been placed on his head was pulled off after he had been handcuffed to the metal chair, and the two men who had lead him into the room vanished out the heavy door, and the sound of several thick locks sliding shut resonating through the room. He was seemed to be alone, although when he craned his neck he could see a large glass window that took up most of the back wall. Obviously a one-way mirror that at least one person was watching him from.
He turned back towards the door, wondering how long he would be left alone until someone would come for him. When no one came after the first few seconds, Jim realized that it was possible that no one would come for him in days. Isolation was one of the most common psychological torture methods, though it would take more than just a bit of time to himself to break his mind. When he came to that conclusion it was almost as if someone else had reached the same result as well, as the door was opened and the very man he had wanted to meet with walked in, followed by a single guard.
"Oh, Myc…" Jim crooned, "I said I just wanted to talk a bit, you didn't have to be so rough!"
His teasing was ignored, and Mycroft held his mask of indifference so cleverly in place that it was irritatingly useless for Jim to try and read his true intentions in his eyes. "I wish to know what your intentions are towards my younger brother."
"You can trust me, Mykey. My intentions towards your brother are nothing more than that of a true gentleman." He grinned, but when his comment didn't seem to phase the man, he let the smile slip away. A dark eyebrow was raised questioningly as he pondered his thoughts aloud. "You can't honestly not know… I would've thought that your job as big brother Mycroft would have let you guess my intentions earlier. Oh well," Jim shrugged the best he could in his position, "it seems that I've over-estimated both of the Holmes boys. How sad, I was looking forward to more playtime with the two of you."
"I'd like you to stop." Stated Mycroft bluntly. "These games with my brother are getting out of hand. It would be in your best interest to disappear from his life, and London, completely."
"So that's why you didn't accept my invitations for dinner… You think that by holding me here you can threaten me into stopping?" A twisted grin spread across his face. "You can't force me to do anything, King."
Mycroft spoke to the man that had entered the room with him, keeping his eyes locked on Jim's. "Make sure that changes his mind."
As he turned to go, his hand on the door's metal handle, Jim began to shout, almost maniacally. "You think you can make me change my mind?! You and your horses could make me do a damn thing that I didn't want to do!" Mycroft opened the door, and headed out into the hall. As the door swung shut, the echoes of Jim's shouts filling the hall. "You should run, Mycroft! You should be terrified of me! I'm going to set fire to everything you love! Your brother, his career, I'll even destroy his idiotic doctor and your pathetically loyal detective! I will burn their ASHES!" Jim howled, and the heavy door slammed shut.
