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Ch 20 - Information
At Ava's remembrance service, Sherlock was still too emotionally raw to say anything. Mycroft had spoken. So had John. But Sherlock's grief was too intense, too fresh to allow him to form just one sentence about how he had loved his cousin much less a whole bloody speech. He knew that his actions reconfirmed people's belief that he was a sociopath. But as usual, he didn't give a damn about what other people thought.
After the service, Sherlock was oblivious to the looks that Donovan and Anderson gave him. As they walked past the younger Holmes, Donovan dared to whisper, "Look at the freak's eyes! They're . . . red. You don't actually think he's been ..."
Before she could finish, John stepped up to Donovan and hissed, "I think only a real sociopath would disrespect the bereaved at a funeral. Don't you, Donovan?"
John's words shut her up as well as wiped the smirk off Anderson's face.
But, Sherlock was numb to those proceedings and any other goings on in the outside world. Instead, all the thoughts running around in his genius mind were that Ava's death was his fault. No matter what techniques he tried, the guilt ladened grief threatened to take up residence not just on an entire floor but rather the entirety of his mind palace. The one thought that prevented that happening was the information that Moriarty had not been in the blast. That bastard was still out there, and Sherlock would do whatever it took to avenge Ava's death.
Another hide out. Another bed. Instead of rope, a pair of handcuffs.
This time Jim played with Ava's hair. Twirling it around his finger. She focused on keeping her breathing steady. Determined to think about anything rather than accept the fear he was trying to make her feel.
Ava remembered her research that she had continued in the years apart from Sherlock. She remembered a man who had been falsely accused and sentenced to life in an Asian prison had said, 'When you're in a prison, everything soft and kind about you must be put to one side. You must become like your captor in order to survive.' Moriarty was cold, unpredictable, brilliant, and even a little insane. This was going to be the challenge of her life.
"You know, Ava, dear. You are brilliant. But, you're not the only one who knows Lewis Carroll."
Jim picked up a riding crop and ran it down the length of her body. As he started beating her, Jim brought the crop down like punctuation at the end of every line.
"Speak roughly to your little boy./ And beat him when he sneezes;/ He only does it to annoy, /Because he knows it teases."
"But one thing I can't stand, is that your worthless cousin has actually had you. He didn't deserve you. I almost wished I hadn't drugged you're coffee."
Still stinging from the beating, Ava looked at him questioningly. "You drugged the coffee?"
"Of course it was me. Don't be obtuse."
A slow giggle began at the back of Ava's throat and wiggled it's way out of her mouth in a full blown laugh.
"You drugged the coffee! Ha, ha ,ha!"
"What's so funny?" Jim's face looked worried again.
"I drugged the sugar and the creamer. Sherlock takes sugar. John takes cream. I take both. No wonder I was so fucked up! I'd had a triple shot."
This was a completely unexpected twist. Maybe Sherlock's cousin wasn't the goodie goodie that he thought she was?
Jim's grin was real and almost hopeful. "Now, why, my dear girl, would you do something like that?"
"What? Don't be obtuse. You mean apart from the obvious?"
Jim raised an eyebrow at Ava daring to throw his own words back at him.
"Tell me everything or I will skin you, film it, and make Sherlock watch your death a second time."
Ava's breath hitched. She didn't want Sherlock trying to find her and walking into a trap because of her. She had to make Jim believe her, gain his trust, then find a way to escape.
"I … I needed Sherlock's and John's help. There was sexual frustration between the three of us. It made sense to get it sorted. Besides," Ava grinned at the madman and abruptly changed her tone, "You've seen how gorgeous my cousin is. Don't tell me you haven't thought about having that amazing body to yourself."
"So, you really are just a manipulative little slut who takes what she wants."
"Well, on the danger of sounding childish, takes one to know one, Jimbo."
Jim used the back of his hand to hit Ava across the face. From nervous to seductive to flippant all in the space of a minute – interesting. He paused for a few moments as if weighing his options.
"What would you do, my pet, to make me change my mind about killing you slowly? Would you explain the importance of this?" Jim held up in front of her eyes the flash drive she'd been working on - the one with the smuggled out information on the GMOs. "Would you take my cock in your mouth and suck it like you mean it? Would you tell me everything about Sherlock's childhood?"
Ava forced her face to remain calm and blank – even at the thought of giving Jim head – even at the thought of betraying Sherlock. In order to survive, she had to be like Jim.
She stared him straight in the eyes and answered, "Yes."
Jim looked at her, his face an emotionless mask.
"I'm not a fool, Jim. I know that whatever information you want, that you can simply take it from me. Better to give you what you want the first time. Besides, it's Sherlock's fault I'm here in the first place." She tried to sound bitter.
"Any time." Jim corrected.
"I'm sorry."
"Better to give me what I want any time that I want it."
"Of course."
Jim walked around to the head of the bed and unlocked the handcuffs and pulled Ava roughly to a seated position.
"Good. Now, I'm not big on keeping things in order. Let's start with the second one. Ava, be a good pet and loosen my belt. And remember," Moriarty latched on tightly to her chin, "Like you mean it."
Two months had passed since Ava's death, and Mycroft was actually in a good mood for a change because his men had just succeeded in capturing one James Moriarty. Now, he had the chance to deal with Ava's murderer. He considered for a moment of informing Sherlock, but decided against it until he spoke to the madman first himself.
As Mycroft entered Jim's cell, the elder Holmes mobile rang. "Mind if I get this?" Mycroft asked smoothly.
Jim just grinned and watched as Mycroft opened the message on his phone. Of course Jim knew what it was, his men always had impeccable timing. Jim's smile widened as he watched Mycroft's jaw drop.
On his phone was a picture of a very alive if very beaten Ava holding a copy of the same day's Telegraph.
"If you want to see a picture of Ava holding tomorrow's paper, Mr. Holmes, you are going to give me information."
Mycroft swallowed. "Information about what?" What did the madman want? Nuclear codes, missile locations, maybe a list of all their covert agents. But the answer Jim gave made Mycroft's knees weaken underneath him.
"Little brother, of course."