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Four long, uneventful days had passed and neither Scotland Yard nor the FBI could find anything. Sherlock hadn't given up, but he had made his thoughts extremely clear to everyone.
"Moriarty has cleaned everything up. He's not going to drop any evidence until he's through with little Will. Or he'll just send his body back in a bag."
"Sherlock, will just stop it!" yelled out John. "Will could actually be dead and all you can do is laugh about it."
"Why be so sentimental? Really John, you haven't even known him for a week," Sherlock muttered, arms crossed.
Hannibal moved to block Sherlock's view, barely inches away from him. "Let me ask you a question then, how would you feel if John had been taken from you? Had been taken by Moriarty and you didn't know what would happen to him?"
"I don't have to," spit out Sherlock and for the first time Hannibal saw some real emotion.
This slight change interested Hannibal. He had been sure that Sherlock didn't care about anyone and yet it appeared that he'd do just about anything for John. The things Sherlock were saying weren't meant to hurt John. To him, he was just stating facts.
Simply to prove this, Hannibal said, "Then I doubt you would be acting so rude if our positions were switched."
"What do you mean rude? I'm saying a fact. John hasn't known Will for very long at all. Even for him it's surprising how sentimental over this entire thing he's become."
Yep, Hannibal had been right.
On the other side of the room, Jack said, "I'm surprised you finished that murder so quickly if they were acting like this before. Were they?"
"Worse," answered Lestrade with a sigh. He turned to Sherlock and asked, "What did you mean Moriarty isn't going to drop any evidence until he's done with Will?"
"I mean he cleaned everything up. That's why you're not finding anything," muttered Sherlock with a role of his eyes. "When he's done with Will, he'll probably drop some type of evidence somewhere that will lead us to him. Of course, I wouldn't be surprised if he simply sent a letter but remember; but this is all a game to him."
Lestrade nodded in understanding and then began to look around, trying to find something to do. He had already figured out what Sherlock had just said, he just hadn't wanted to believe it. Being one of the main detective inspectors, whenever he found himself lost or in unknown territory was never good.
Jack however, seemed less assured by Sherlock's words. He trusted Lestrade well enough. They'd worked side by side enough for Jack to give him that. However, no matter how many cases he'd solved, from the way he was acting now Jack just didn't believe him.
"He can't get rid of everything. There's got to be—"
"Well of course there's always some type of evidence but we don't have that kind of technology yet," Sherlock replied with a wave of his hand.
"Now listen here! My agent—"
"He's not an actual agent. To unstable or something," Sherlock corrected.
"That's beside the point!" yelled out Jack. "Will is in serious trouble and I will not sit on my hands and do nothing."
"Then run around looking like an idiot because that's all you can do," said Sherlock. "If it makes you feel any better, it's doubtful Moriarty will kill him."
"There are plenty of things worse than death," muttered Jack.
"Is that all your worried about? Torture? Or are you worried that Moriarty might finally break him?"
"What do you mean?"
"You know exactly what I mean," Sherlock snapped. "You're afraid that Moriarty will be able to twist Will around his finger and warp him into whatever he wants."
Hannibal narrowed his eyes at this. He already disliked the situation but he really didn't like Sherlock's way of putting it. Hannibal said, "Will is stronger than you think Mr. Holmes."
Sherlock looked at him and opened his mouth, making it clear that he was getting ready to make some snarky comment back at him but before he could finish Hannibal had him by his forearm and dragged him out of the room and away from the other people.
"What was that?" cried Sherlock, ripping his arm away in anger and annoyance.
"What were you about to say in there?"
"I'm sure you already know. You're his psychiatrist after all," muttered Sherlock. "He has the very making of a serial killer. I'm sure Jack Crawford knows this by now."
"Subconsciously yes, but he doesn't want to believe it," replied Hannibal.
"Then why just not let—you're protecting him aren't you."
Hannibal raised an eyebrow. "I assure you, Jack doesn't need protecting from me."
"I'm not talking about him. I'm talking about Will," replied Sherlock, looking over him. He felt like he nearly had Hannibal but not quite. "It's like when you were protecting Abigail."
"I'm sorry but I don't remember protecting Abigail at all."
"When I mentioned that she had killed someone."
"You're thinking of Will," Hannibal corrected him. "If you remember, he corrected you and said that it was her father who committed the murders."
"Maybe so but I saw you both looking at each other. You were clearly giving her some type of advice, making sure she stayed quit and didn't do anything out of the ordinary. The same goes for Will. You don't want anyone to realize how broken he is," Sherlock said.
"I assure you, Will is not broken."
Sherlock smirked and replied, "That's how you describe him. I'm positive that you truly think that as well but to most others I doubt they would agree. I wonder, have you told him about Abigail? About her murders?"
"She hasn't committed any," Hannibal responded.
If Sherlock hadn't already analyzed the girl, he would've been tempted to believe Hannibal. Nothing in his face gave him away. Even in the best of liars, Sherlock could spot little mishaps that gave them away. With Hannibal there was nothing, just a blank page.
Finally, with a huff, Sherlock said, "I won't tell anyone. Your Americans, not my problem, but I will figure you out Hannibal Lecter."
A small smirk appeared on Hannibal's lips as he said, "I don't know whether to consider that a threat of a compliment."
"Call it both," Sherlock replied and left.
Hannibal stayed for about thirty more minutes but then went back to the hotel. He wanted to discuss a few things with Abigail. He found her in the room just as he had expected, splayed out on the couch and reading a book.
"Hello Abigail."
She looked up. Abigail had learned to hear the questions in Hannibal's voice even if he didn't speak them himself. "What is it?"
"I need to talk to you about Sherlock Holmes," said Hannibal as he sat down beside her.
She pulled her feet in and closed her book, a sad, forlorn, look coming on her face. "Are you thinking of killing me?"
Hannibal sighed and replied, "Abigail, if I was I would simply tell you out right. No, I do not plan on killing you."
"But Sherlock's figured it out hasn't he? My secret? What about yours? Does he know it yet?"
"Not mine, no. So far, I believe that he just wants us, Will, and the FBI gone. Then he'll be happy and ignore us for sometimes unless he simply becomes to bored for to long. Certainly, Moriarty interests him more than me or you but if he found out the entire truth I doubt that would remain the same."
Abigail nodded in understanding. "Should I not go over to Scotland Yard anymore?"
"I would highly advise it."
"Alright," she said with a nod. Then, biting her lip, she asked, "Do you have any idea of what is happening to Will?"
"I can think of several but I would rather not speak of them."
"Alright. Just promise me we'll get him back alive."
"Abigail," Hannibal said, "there are very few times that I keep a promise . . . but this is one of them."
