AN: Another quick, short chapter - felt necessary for the next portions. Thank you again for the reads/reviews/favorites/follows! Please enjoy - let me know what you think!
-M
The human body is quite resilient. Moriarty marveled at the way his bones had begun knitting back together, at the pains – sharp, stabbing, dull, and aching – that broadcast a story of suffering, but more importantly survival throughout his body.
His smile was manic even through the worst of the pain. He was healing. And he was thinking. And he'd even managed to learn something new. It was thanks, in part, to Sherlock and his pet, who had managed by as of yet unidentifiable means to escape a similar convalescence.
That wasn't fair. Not one bit. But, it was likely only because of their intervention that Moriarty was even alive. And, they had managed to renew his vigor for life. So he'd let it slide, this time. He might even send them a new playmate.
She'd tried contacting him just after the blast, while he was being pulled away from fire and rubble. She'd procured a new client she knew he'd be interested in, someone utterly unimportant in the grand scheme of things, but with enough title, heritage, and connections to be excited about.
The client herself could do very little for their enterprises. The pressure they could exert on others through the client…now that was a different matter entirely. Moriarty would have clapped his hands just thinking of it, if he could. Not in his current state, though. Convalescing. Which had taught him a great lesson about zest and zeal, but was quickly becoming boring.
His mobile rang off - or moaned, rather – just as his mood soured. His smile returned to mischievous and sharp from the even more dangerous cruel and sharp edge it had been creeping toward. She always had the best timing.
"How's Daddy's favorite girl?" He answered the call, voice agile and dancing between tones.
He listened to her updates, bits of information she'd gleaned from clients she thought he might be interested in. He listened carefully even as his mind darted on ahead, making connections and testing hypothesis, extrapolating out probable outcomes should he play the game one way or another. It was his turn, after all.
And then he had it.
"Darling Irene," he crooned, interrupting her, "Do Daddy a favor." It was an instruction.
She abruptly stopped speaking, taking a quick but controlled breath in. Her silence held tense anticipation, and that was telling enough. He could hear her concerns clearly through it. The reason she'd been so successful gathering sensitive information for him was because he'd rarely asked her to act on it personally. None of their shared targets had ever put the pieces together before, but each time he used their information he exposed her to risk of reprisal. Her clients were not without resources, and if her betrayal could be traced it would not bode well for her continued wellbeing. Furthermore, once her clients realized they were at risk for blackmail, it would be much more difficult to take on new paying sources. She was not without her own protection, though. She was a clever girl, after all. She'd figure it out.
He wanted her to act on her new client. Apply pressure right to the seat of power. Not the Queen. Not Whitehall. The real threat was the Ice Man. And Moriarty wanted to test how far he'd go to protect Queen and Country, how much he'd risk. It was worth exposing Irene for the data he could collect from this experiment. And if his new playmate – that infinitely more entertaining younger Holmes – wanted to join in, all the better.
She listened carefully to his instructions. She wouldn't dare do otherwise.
"And I'm sending you some pictures, images of a man you might enjoy batting around a bit. The Ice Man might employ his talents to find you."
"Oh?" Her voice was dripping with honey. She sounded genuinely intrigued instead of dutiful for the first time since his interruption.
"He's a consulting detective."
"Sounds familiar," she purred.
"He's not ruthless enough to really play with the big boys, yet. I'll let him cut his teeth on you." Moriarty rolled his eyes at her implied comparison. Not all consultants were at the same level. He'd been much more successful building his empire than Sherly had been, toiling away endlessly with his little cases. He could imagine how her jaw would strain with his implication that she wasn't ready to play with the big boys yet, either.
"I'm not a babysitter." The amusement was quickly evaporating from her tone.
"But I do know how you like virgins," he couldn't help licking his teeth with the comment. If she could have seen him, it would have been a perfect delivery.
She huffed an exaggerated sigh, but he could hear her interest building once more.
"And, my darling girl," he crooned, the underlying malice only audible to those with ears to listen properly. He knew she would hear it. "One more thing."
Another beat of silence.
She did play her game well, giving away as little as possible with each interaction. It would be such fun to watch Mistress Adler and The Virgin tangle with each other. "Do be careful."
Another sharp inhale. She'd heard the threat then. Fail this, and become obsolete. "Yes, sir," she acknowledged, voice steady but tight.
His grin stretched impossibly wider, eyes burning with intensity.
"Good girl."