Chapter Fourteen: Choices

Moriarty raised a brow, intrigued by my answer as John and Sherlock stared at me, dumbfounded.

"What did you say?" Sherlock asked quietly, questioning my sanity as I took another step towards the man with the gun.

"I said: he can have me. Torture me, kill me, do whatever you wish. Just let my brothers go."

Moriarty lowered his gun a bit as I kept walking towards him, slowly, watching my step and trying not to make any sort of move that would be seen as threatening and endanger the boys further. In an instant, his hand shot out, gripping my wrist and pulling me into his chest.

He had spun me when he had grabbed me, my arm now pinned across my chest as he moved the gun from my brothers and pressed it against my temple. The barrel was cold and hard and hurt as he put a little more force behind it than was needed. I winced and tried to pull away.

"Zoey!" Ian ran towards me only to have Moriarty use his foot to kick him hard in the chest, sending him back into the bookcase, several books toppling off the shelves from the impact.

"Try anything like that, little man, and your sister won't be able to save you." He growled, pressing the gun into my skin further. I cried out in pain and swore that any more pressure would crack my skull. "Not that she can save you now anyway… Try as she might."

"This has nothing to do with the boys, Moriarty!" John shouted as he looked at Ian who was rubbing his head from where it had wacked the hard wood of the bookcase. Kayden was hugging him and crying harder. The poor kid didn't know what to do, but at least he had his brother beside him for a little comfort.

Sherlock stood watching all of us, just observing. I could see the gears in his head turning but at the moment he couldn't do anything.

"True. They may just be here as the bait to lure Miss McCarron here, they may be pawns in order to psychologically torture her; but they have a role in this game! This is my game and you're all going to play!" He shouted as several lights left John and Sherlock, moving to glow menacingly on the frightened boys faces and chests.

"I chose! I gave you me! Let them go!" I tried to turn my head to look over at my brothers, eyes welling with tears of frustration at being lured into his trap. He had assumed that I would gladly give myself over. Now I was his hostage and his victim at the same time. He was going to hurt me, I could tell. He was going to destroy me like he had promised to get to Sherlock.

"I never said I'd let them go if you handed yourself over." He cooed into my ear as he moved the gun off my temple and instead pressed it to the back of my skull. His arm remained firmly around me, pulling me even closer now. "Handed yourself over on a silver platter just for me… I'm touched."

"Let me go and I'll show you just what kind of touching you deserve!" I growled as I struggled, his arm locking me in even tighter.

"All in good time, my dear." He ran his nose along my forehead and smirked. "You found quite the treasure, Sherlock." His voice had changed yet again, sickeningly sweet and playful. "She's sweet and feisty all wrapped into one. Smart too." He glanced over at Sherlock and grinned. "She figured out where I was before you."

"Simple observation." Sherlock said coolly. "She realized that in the center of the pattern was her home. Taking the pins from the map and connecting them all, they crossed right over her. They say x marks the spot. You formed this plan right after you saw her, creating this whole 'game' around her."

"You're still not getting it, Sherlock. It was still all about you. You let someone get close to you." I could feel his breath on my face. It was hot and smelled slightly of bourbon. "That was a very nice move at the warehouse, by the way. Quite the elaborate distraction for such a small goal…"

"It seemed to be prudent at the time." Sherlock's voice got a little deeper, madder. My eyes widened as I looked at him. I was praying that he wouldn't give into Moriarty's taunts. I hoped he wouldn't make it personal. He would be going against what he had told me. If it gets personal, you stop thinking properly.

"I wonder why you would choose that distraction, of all things. It's so… emotionally charged." I felt his hand move slightly down my body as his fingers hooked under my shirt. I twisted my body away from him as much as possible, my arm still pinned and gun still to my head.

"Don't touch me!" I fought only to have his hand slip under the fabric of my shirt, his nails clawing their way up under it. I winced and tried to ignore the burning sensation against my skin as he scratched me. He was taking skin with him, I could tell that much. He wasn't holding back now that he had easy access to cause me pain.

"She's been feeling everything for you, Sherlock. The fear, the pain, the anger, sadness, caring… She's been feeling it all! Here you are, acting like a man made out of stone while you shove the problems and terrors of the world on a fragile little girl! You took away her innocence! So now, so am I!"

He dug his nails into the soft skin of my torso deeper and I cried out. When I did, my body tensed and my head tilted back ever so slightly, which was just what he wanted. His hand shot out of my shirt and up to grip my chin. His fingers were wet and sticky with my blood as he twisted my face towards him, forcing his mouth onto mine. His tongue slithered into my mouth, making me grunt and want to gag as it swirled around before I managed to bite him.

He jerked away and licked his bleeding lip as his hand locked around me again. I could feel the blood he had left on my face and could taste the bourbon I had smelt on his breath. I felt sick and my stomach ached from where he had clawed my skin away.

"I hold your heart in my hands, Sherlock!" He laughed as he kissed my temple and I jerked my head away from him.

I suddenly remembered the gun which we had taken from Sherlock was still in my bag which was slung over my shoulder. I wriggled an arm free and reached for it. I felt the cold metal against my hand and grabbed it. I pulled it out quickly and swung my arm around so that it was pointed at Moriarty.

He reacted quickly, faster than I had expected and twisted around so that he now had both guns pointed at me. The one he originally had remained in place while the other was tilted up towards my chin.

"Stubborn little thing, aren't we?" He kissed my cheek again and I closed my eyes tightly in frustration. "Careful. Playing with guns is dangerous. I thought your father would have taught you that."

John looked over at Sherlock whose normal expressionless face was gone and appeared mad. He was looking at me, or more specifically, my shirt which was now beginning to soak up the blood cause by Moriarty's nails. He was thinking still. His eyes darted over to Ian who had recovered and was holding Kayden, who had stopped crying and was now just watching with wide eyes.

"If it's true that I have no heart and that she is the one who possesses enough of one to share, it's a waste on her part to attempt to lend her feelings to me. I have no use for them." Sherlock's eyes were the coldest I had ever seen them and I shuddered slightly.

"Yet you're here because you care about her. You knew where I'd be and you came because you were worried I would do something terrible." Moriarty's head rocked back and forth slightly, reminding me of a reptile on the prowl. "If you don't care about her, then why?"

His eyes looked over Sherlock who showed no change at all and then he suddenly laughed. "Oh, I get it now! You truly are just like me!"

"I'm nothing like you, aside from our level of intellect." Sherlock replied calmly, a dark shadow falling over his face. John could see it too.

"You're only after her heart. You care nothing about this girl's life. You only care about what you can acquire from her. If she becomes of no use to you you'll lose interest. It's not her at all. It's her humanity." He laughed and tossed the second gun onto the couch behind him as the first one moved to point at Ian. His free hand wrapped around my neck and his fingertips applied pressure.

"Same choice I gave her. Which one lives and dies? The same goes for you, Johnny boy."

John raised his gun, despite the snipers aimed at him. "Why are you giving me a choice?"

"Because it's a game! The more people that play, the more fun it gets. Now, there are two of you, and three of them. You each pick one. That way it's all fair." He smirked as he said the last bit, as if him playing fair was a joke.

"What makes it fair?" John asked, his gun remaining where it was.

"You each get to pick one, and then I get the one that's left. You save two and I kill one." He grinned and squeezed. "I must say, it'd be rather a pity to have to shoot Miss McCarron after all. She has a certain fire I admire in a woman. I bet she'd make one hell of a mother... If she lives that long. Perhaps if you don't chose her I'll just take her home with me. If I truly get bored I could try my hand at impersonating Jack the Ripper. Maybe I'll destroy her heart by taking away what she cherishes most..."

Sherlock's eyes locked on me and I stared back at him, silently pleading with him not to choose me. If he knew me one bit as well as he claimed he'd know that out of the three of us, I would choose my brothers.

"I refuse to sink to your level of childish games." Sherlock remained still, like he was carved out of marble.

John gulped, feeling he knew where Sherlock was going and kept his gun pointed. "Sherlock…"

"I won't choose any of them. I won't let one die when there's another option."

"Oh, really?" Moriarty's eyebrows rose as he squeezed my neck tighter. I let out a small choking gasp, making him smirk. "And what would this other option be?"

"I chose all three. You're not going to kill anyone." He took a step towards us and Moriarty's playful smile suddenly vanished, replaced by a terrifying mask of rage.

"I will kill whoever I want! Game over, Sherlock!" His gun aimed at Ian and I reacted instantly.

In one quick moment I heard Ian and Kayden scream as Sherlock ran forward. I felt Moriarty release my throat as I grabbed his arm and twisted it around, burying the barrel of the gun into my torso as the sound of a muffled shot managed to echo in the room.

My shirt felt wet and I was suddenly aware of how much my stomach hurt.