Hey all of my amazing, fantastic, intelligent readers! (Is flattery going to work? I hope so) I can only apologise for the gap in my chapters, unfortunately I have been really busy with reality and work and blah blah all that boring stuff.

I hope this chapter makes up for the long break and please feel free to let me know what you think! Thanks! xxx

"Guess who!?" Came his cry, arms outstretched either side of him as if greeting an old friend. Meredith stood stock still, her gaze unwavering. The remarkable sense of foreboding had drenched every atom of her body, the muscles in her hands twitching uncontrollably. Getting out of this was not going to be easy.

"No? Not even a hello?" he asked, stepping a bit closer. Meredith took a step back instantly, his face twisting into a grin. "Boo. I thought you'd be pleased to see me! Do me a favour and hang up the phone, I wouldn't want to have to take it from you,"

"Do as he says, Mer. I promise you we will find you." John's voice remained the only thing keeping her sane, so it was with great reluctance that she hung up the phone with a weak 'ok'.

"What do you want?" Meredith said shakily, the phone still in her hand.

"Not that question, for god's sake! Can't anyone be a little original? It's always 'what do you want?' or 'please, don't hurt me!' it bores me senseless!"

"You are Moriarty then?"

"Bingo!" He cried. "Did you have fun, with all the little games I played with you? Donna, did you like her? She was good. Easily corrupted,"

Meredith flinched upon hearing the woman's name. The way her head had burst open as the bullet lodged itself into her brain still kept her up some nights, the feeling of warm blood splattering over her skin giving her chills. "You manipulated a helpless woman, she went completely crazy!"

Moriarty flashed her a dark look. "She was already crazy, baby, I just made her better."

"Why did you try to kill me?"

"Ah...third time lucky eh?" Moriarty paced around a bit, his grey suit tailored and fitted perfectly to his slim lined body. His shoes were shiny and gleaming, a deep contrast to the darkness flooding his irises. "To be honest, I wasn't trying too hard. If I was you would be dead,"

Meredith clenched her fists together tightly. "Then why do it?"

"Because I wanted to!" He played out every word like a violinist stretching each note out with a bow. "I usually get what I want,"

Glancing at the doors, she wondered if she could make a dash for it. It wasn't too far, she just had to manoeuvre around Mr Crazy Eyes, possibly hit him in the groin or something of that nature, and run like the wind. "Whatever it is that you want, I'm not interested,"

"Oh I think you are. You see at first I just thought you were normal, ordinary. A boring girl pining over her alcoholic mother and just trying to fit in," He emphasised this with a fake crying voice and pretended to wipe his eyes. Her blood boiled. "But then all of a sudden you had Sherlock's attention, the big bad consulting detective with a heart of ice, and I realised, you aren't normal. You are different,"

Meredith didn't like where this was going, nor the fact he was stepping closer to her as he continued his monologue. "The difference between potential and success is how it is utilised, my dear. Sherlock isn't going to utilise the gift you have, not the way it needs to be. I on the other hand...can,"

"I have no idea what you are talking about," She lied, feeling a sick twist knotting up her stomach. The notion of breathing was becoming difficult, like a hand was crushing her windpipe.

"I am sure you have a very good idea about what I am talking about Goldilocks," He was now directly in front of her, and she was too scared to move. The fear must've shown in her eyes, as he gave her a look only a predator would their prey. "It's OK, there's very little point in me killing you,"

"I don't believe you," Meredith breathed.

He looked disappointed. "Shame, I thought we had a good relationship, you and me. Or do you only offer your-" he looked over her body in what felt like excruciating detail. "-services to our favourite consulting detective?"

"I don't offer my services to anyone you slimy git," Meredith growled, moving her arm swiftly to catch her fist into his gut, in the hope it would startle him so she could make a run for it. Moriarty grabbed her wrist rapidly before she cold make contact and dragged her towards him. Her eyes widened in shock as he crashed his lips onto hers. She felt repulsed and disgusted all at the same time, the invasive action causing a flash of red to sear over her eyes. Fighting against him ardently, she managed to pull from his grip and staggered away from him, the same amused smile on his face.

"I have to say, I get the fascination, really, I do,"

Meredith glared daggers at the lunatic, realising a little too late that the world was beginning to spin before her eyes. She blinked quickly as she tried to stay on her feet. "What have you done to me?"

"Sleeping draught on the lips, old trick but a good one," Moriarty grinned, pointing towards his mouth. "You didn't think I'd kiss you without motive, did you?"

Meredith couldn't even think straight any longer. Her vision was blurry and warped, Moriarty's face swimming around her vision like the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland. A tear escape her eye as she gave into the darkness.

…

"Sherlock RUN!"

John latched himself to Moriarty.

He laughed. "Good! Very good,"

"If your sniper pulls that trigger Mr Moriarty, then we both go up," John growled.

"Isn't he sweet, I can see why you like having him around, though people do get rather sentimental about their pets! They're so touchingly loyal," Moriarty knew just how to push buttons. John tightened his grip on the insane man but as ever, Moriarty knew how to pull out the winning cards. "The thing is, Johnny boy, if I blow up right now, you will never see that beautiful niece of yours again,"

"Where is she?" John roared.

"Safe. For now," Moriarty grinned. "And er, oops!" A red dot danced it's way over Sherlock's forehead. "You've rather shown your hand there Doctor Watson,"

John stared at Sherlock and both men shared a look of defeat. There was little he could do other than release his hold on Moriarty, who by all accounts had just admitted he was holding Meredith hostage. His Meredith. His family, his blood. She was twenty years old for Christ's sake! He'd put her in danger, as soon as she'd entered 221B that afternoon he should of told her to leave, to leave London, go back to her mother and stay the hell away from John Watson and Sherlock Holmes.

God, she could be anywhere! Wrapped up in Semtex just waiting to be blown to smithereens, much like him.

"Do you know what happens if you don't leave me alone Sherlock? To you?" Moriarty's voice sounded, making John focus again.

"Oh Let me guess, I get killed?" Sherlock drawled back, still holding the gun up too the shorter man's head.

"Kill you? Now, don't be obvious. I mean I'm gonna kill you anyway someday, I'm not gonna rush it though. No no no, I'm saving it up for something special. If you don't stop prying, I will burn you. I will burn the heart out of you."

"I have been reliably informed that I don't have one." Sherlock said in an almost growl.

"But we both know that's not quite true," Moriarty replied. "Well, I'd better be off. So nice to have had a proper chat,"

"What if I was to shoot you now?"

"Well you'd have to cherish the look of surprise on my face, because I would be surprised Sherlock, really, I would, and then, well, you'd never find Meredith. You'd never know where she is, what I plan to do with her. And of course, you wouldn't be able to cherish it for long,"

John saw the whiteness in Sherlock knuckles as his fingers tightened around the gun in his hands. "Where is she?" He asked, jaw set tightly.

"Does anything you know about me suggest I would tell you that?" Moriarty used his hands to gesture down his body. "Honestly. I thought you were meant to be smart. No, little Meredith is mine for the time being. I like her you know, she's got spirit,"

"Does anything you know about me suggest I will leave you alone whilst you have her?" Sherlock stepped forwards just slightly.

"If you leave me alone, I can guarantee you will see her again in one piece." Moriarty said lowly. "Ciao, Sherlock Holmes."

John watched as he left the swimming pool, eyes as wide as saucers. "Shit. Shit shit double shit!"

"Are you al-right?" Sherlock asked suddenly, prizing the Semtex coat away from John quickly.

"Forget me! Oh bloody hell!" He felt his legs going from under him and had to grasp the side of a changing cubicle for support. "Meredith, Jesus! He's got Meredith!"

Sherlock paced up and down, flailing the gun around in his hands rather haphazardly. "I know."

"I mean this isn't just 'a victim' Sherlock. This isn't one of those so called 'irrelevant' people who mean nothing! This is my niece!"

"I know John!" Sherlock practically bellowed. The strain in his friend's voice startled John. For once Sherlock didn't look like the picture of calm. Instead he seemed agitated and affected, as if he really did care about his niece.

"So what the hell are we going to do?" John voiced.

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know? You're Sherlock Holmes for Christ sake!"

Sherlock opened his mouth to reply when a flurry of red dots appeared all over him like a plague. John swore, his patience finally wearing out.

"Sorry boys!" Cried Moriarty from the end of the swimming pool. "I'm so changeable! It is a weakness of mine, but to be fair, it is my only weakness. You can't be allowed to continue, you just can't. I would try to convince you but everything I have to say has already crossed your mind!"

John saw it, the moment Sherlock realised there wasn't going to be a way out of this one. The moment he pointed that gun towards the coat of explosives, the moment he let his finger slide over the trigger.

They were all going to die.

…

Meredith awoke suddenly. As if she had been slapped awake, she jolted upright too quickly. The rushing feeling in her head made her groan, one of her hands; clammy with stress, finding her forehead.

An aching pain had settled in her cranium. Events unfolded in her memory rapidly, the panic rising up into her throat like bile.

Where the hell am I?

Looking around she found she was in a very normal looking bedroom. The walls were hospital white, gleaming and clean. The window had been covered with black-out curtains, a lamp on the bedside table glowing delicately besides her. A glass of water was sat innocently on the chestnut cabinet. Meredith eyed it. She was thirsty, very thirsty in fact, but she wasn't about to drink anything Moriarty had given her.

Just his name sent chills of fear down her spine. The man was clearly insane, determined to frighten the living daylights out of her. And what had he said...something about 'utilising' her gift? What on earth did that mean?

She staggered to her feet, noticing her shoes had gone. Where in god's name where her shoes? Her bag was missing, her mobile, everything. Scrambling around, she yanked at the curtains but they were fastened to the wall and despite tugging for a good five minutes, she wasn't strong enough to pull them free.

"God damn!" She growled, heading for the bedroom door. It was locked. Swearing loudly she kicked the door with the bottom of her foot, which did nothing other than really hurt. She swore again, the anger causing her eyes to water in sheer frustration. She took hold of the glass on the bedside table and threw it. It shattered over the door into millions of tiny pieces, all spread out over the cream carpet like tiny little diamonds.

It was after five minutes of heavily panting that she regretted throwing the water. Now she was thirstier than she had been before and her only water now darkened the carpet. Sinking down onto the bed, she put her head into her hands, wondering how on earth it had all come to this.

And that's when she heard the footsteps.

...