Rejoice! The long awaited (for me at least) second chapter: Turning Tables. I don't know how many chapters there are actually going to be, so this feels like taking the first few steps out of my Hobbit hole and into an adventure for me. I hope you all will continue reading with as much love as you did before, and that if you keep reading you keep reviewing, because otherwise I won't know. :D
Jim Moriarty locked his apartment door with a satisfying metallic click. He'd been staying in a seedy complex for a few weeks now, longer than he normally would have under normal circumstances.
He strode through his tidy living room and dropped the struggling infant that he'd been carrying under his arm like a parcel onto the couch. The toddler rolled over onto his hands and knees and cringed at the mistreatment, tears still leaking slowly from his cobalt eyes, weeping silently and too scared to sob.
Clearly these were not normal circumstances.
Like a frightened puppy retreating to a corner for protection, the childish form of John Watson clamored silently over the plush blue cushions and curled into the corner of the sofa, his bare knees bolstering themselves against his chest and creating a wall between him and his captor.
Jim opened his laptop with a snap, disregarding his prisoner for the moment and with a few timely clicks he opened his video feed for the street camera just outside of Baker Street. He checked the loop for the past hour and found that in the last few minutes Sherlock Holmes; the great, dark shadow of a man, had rushed into his flat carrying something heavy in his arms.
Something heavy and child-sized.
With a snarl of disgust Jim took a furious swipe at a lonely coffee mug sitting innocuously on his desk and sent it shattering against the wall in a burst of ceramic and white dust, tearing a string of bitter curses from his lips as a parting farewell.