Moriarty drums his fingers onto a steel table. The staccato noise echoes through the interrogation room as his lackeys drag in a gang Lieutenant. His cover was recently compromised and Moriarty needs to find out how. (The idiots at the Yard couldn't have done this.)
The guards shove Lieutenant into a chair, sweat pouring out of him. "I can explain," he stammers.
"Go on then," the Irishman smirks.
Lieutenant's words come out in a panicked stream. "Our usual constable, he wasn't there. It was somebody else –"
Moriarty rolls his eyes. "So what? Just bribe him!"
"He wouldn't-"
"EVERYONE can be bought, stupid!"
"He was a private detective," Lieutenant stutters.
Moriarty throws up his hands and screams, "IDIOT! They're even easier to bribe than the real cops! Easier to kill too, which was your Plan B!"
"He had us surrounded! He'd got the police to back him up!"
"The police don't do that," Moriarty snorts.
"They did for him."
"Just give me his name so that we can eliminate him," he sighs, bored.
"Sherlock Holmes."
Moriarty's eyes widen and he snaps, "If you're lying to me, you're dog food."
Moriarty had long ago given Sherlock up for dead. Now that he knows Sherlock is alive, his only desire is to crush him.