CHAPTER 57: EPIC DISASTER
When John steps out of that chamber of horrors, he finds Giulia waiting for him in the corridor. She offers him her shoulder to lean on, and he accepts it with a grateful nod of the head. They walk slowly along the corridor as the doctor winces in pain whenever he puts weight on his injured leg. Giulia shoots him an apprehensive look. "How's your leg?"
He grimaces, "Not bleeding anymore; that's an improvement."
She internally smiles; no matter how bad things get, John's witty sarcasm will never fade.
She looks over her shoulder and watches Sherlock leaving the room after them, so she lowers her voice to a whisper, "I know that he will never tell it to your face, but he did compliment you. He is quite impressed with the way you handled and solved the round. I, on my part, would like to thank you for getting us safe and sound to the other side. And I'm really sorry for the price you paid," she steals one more look at the improvised bandage made from a shred of her dress. The bloodstains have blended with the ruby-red shade of her gown, making it vaguely more bearable for her to look at it without fainting.
He shrugs, "I never expected to get out of an encounter with Moriarty without a scratch. But I appreciate what you said since I'm not often complimented, as you can imagine," he glances backwards at the detective following them. "Anyway, you were the ones who risked it on that deathly device while I did nothing more than reading the Morse code signals of the lights, so I'd call it a team effort," he waves the praise aside.
She smiles at his modesty. "Then we're totally going to swap places, next time," she jokes, but instead of laughing or chuckling, John turns a serious face to her, his forehead creased in a frown. "Wait, are you saying that you know Morse code?"
She cocks a brow, "By now, I thought you had learnt not to underestimate me, doctor."
He nods impressed, and they proceed silently until reaching yet another open door. They step into a room entirely sunk into darkness. As Sherlock enters last, one lightbulb near the entrance switches on to dissipate part of the shadows, but it is still not enough for them to make out the limits of the room: it must be similar to the last one in size, but it is currently impossible to distinguish anything ahead of them. The faint light is barely sufficient to illuminate a small table with a now-habitual marble statue, weighing scales, and a blister pack of meds.
As usual, a screen on the wall powers on to show Moriarty's everlasting grin. "Painkillers for your wound, Doctor Watson," he specifies, nodding to the medicines on the table.
John studies the tablets warily then turns towards the screen with a sneering expression. "How very considerate of you," he replies sarcastically. "I'm torn, though: does it mean that you ultimately intend on keeping me alive or do you just hope that I'm going to survive long enough to meet a grandiose death?"
Jim smiles at his scorn. "I'll keep you guessing."
In the meantime, Sherlock and Giulia have been busy examining the other objects on the table. The weighting device is a simple machine composed of a metal plate placed on an electronic base. They decide to disregard the scale, which will evidently serve later in the solution of that round, and they divert their attention to the new figurine. The woman carved in marble is seated on a truncated column and is holding in her hands some scrolls and books; her hair is crowned in a laurel wreath. The detective points at the statue, recognising the subject. "Clio, the Muse of epic poetry," he affirms in a weary tone.
After playing three rounds of that torment, he just feels all the fatigue descending upon him. He feels tired and weak, and he lost track of time. They have been visiting the internal rooms of the theatre where there are no windows on the world outside, so he can't even try to estimate what time it is. It doesn't matter, though; time doesn't count in that maze of horrors. Their progress is invariably scanned by those bloody figurines. And judging by the number of Greek muses, there are still some more rounds to go.
He sighs, He doesn't know whether they will get to the end with enough strength. They are giving all of themselves in every single challenge only to be faced with something way worse in the following round. The horrors just seem to multiply and intensify. And he can't help but wonder, what will come next? That's the most terrifying part of the game: facing an enemy who has planned this game for a long time. Moriarty has it all perfectly plotted out, like an omniscient narrator with his personal drama. And they – the powerless characters, can't help but play their parts, going through the chapters, fighting for their lives, ignoring whether, at the next turn, a huge plot twist will frustrate all their efforts.
He flashes a stern gaze at the monitor. "Jim, haven't you had enough, already?"
"Not at all. But before proceeding with a new round, I think congratulations are in order, especially considering that your success came quite unexpected, this time," the criminal mastermind comments stunned. "I must admit I never imagined that you'd be able to go all the way across that room and save the life of your housekeeper."
"Landlady," John corrects him under his breath.
"To tell the truth, when I designed that pressure table, I anticipated at least a few casualties," he bares his teeth.
"Did we let you down?" Sherlock asks sarcastically, earning a benevolent smile from Jim.
"On the contrary. I've found your dauntless performance quite exciting," he theatrically waves a hand in the air to fan himself, reminiscing the enthusiasm with which he followed that show.
"A bit sadistic that our anguish serves as your entertainment," Giulia spits out.
Jim grins cruelly at her, then he slowly shakes his head. "It's not just your worries or your fears. The most enticing part for me is witnessing the intensity of your emotions. I've always known that Sherlock would constitute quite the challenge, but you, Miss Giulia, you are the real revelation," he rubs his hands together. "Of course, I already knew many things about your character: how you accept to put up with Sherlock's less-than-courteous manners, how you side with John whenever the situation requires a touch of humanity, and how you keep fighting for yourself and your place in the world. And I knew that you were smart and brave, but I had no idea how determined you'd turn out to be. Your stubborn move to save Doctor Molly Hooper should have been telling already, but your decision to risk your life in the arms of the man whose intentions were never clear to you just to save another human being… oh, that was almost heroic," he exclaims.
Giulia instinctively looks at Sherlock and flinches when she meets his gaze: he had been staring at her throughout Jim's speech. Moriarty's eyes travel briefly across the room before landing in hers, "However, your heroism would be more appropriate for this new room; I'll see what we can arrange about that. By the way, I'm sincerely impressed," he applauds her.
"Impressing you is not exactly on my priority list, at the moment. Everything that I did was to save innocent lives that you put in danger," she retorts in a cutting tone.
He stares intently at her for a few seconds as a glint of cruelty flickers in his eyes. Then he nods at her as if she had just provided an enlightening answer. "Innocent lives, yes, thank you for raising the topic. I've been meaning to ask, actually: would it make any difference if they weren't innocent? Would you still be willing to save the lives of the guilty?"
She draws a breath to reply, but he anticipates her, "No, don't answer just yet. I don't want you to tell me; I want you to show me – which is why this new round is going to be absolutely epic," he pronounces in a foreboding tone and casts a glance at the marble statue of the Muse of epic poetry.
"I won't let you manipulate me," she protests, her voice unfaltering.
He smirks at her challenging tone, "So defiant, so magnificently determined to always do the right thing. Your parents would be so proud. They were such good people and had so many great expectations for their daughters. And you… you were the apple of your father's eye."
At that mention, she lowers her gaze and bites down on her lips in an attempt to choke back tears at the thought of her parents. She misses them every day; she misses them so damn much. Those wounds are still open and she isn't sure they will ever heal.
He tilts his head to the side, analysing her reaction. "Did I hit a nerve?" he teases her.
"Enough," John shouts, stepping forward to shield the girl with his body in a protective move.
She smiles feebly at him and places a hand on his shoulder to reassure him. "It's okay. I can fight my own battles."
"Of course, you can," Moriarty interjects. "You're just like your poor father; the same fiery spirit." He feigns an expression of grief, "Two lives cut short too early and a family destroyed by tragedy. You could have had so much more time together…"
"Don't bring my family into this and stop referring to my parents," she quickly interrupts him – a furious look blazing in her eyes. Then she hisses, "You don't have the right to talk about them. You didn't even know them."
He arches his brow and leans forward as his face becomes bigger on the screen and his smile grows more sinister. "As a matter of fact, I did. Perhaps I should mention: I am the one who killed them."
A layer of chill descends into the room. The two men are bewildered, but the girl is in pure shock.
"Wh-what?" she stammers through shuddering breaths.
Jim lets out a weary sigh as if explaining in detail his wrongdoing was an immense exertion. "Well, not factually, obviously. I'm never the one who pulls the trigger – or in this case, the one who pressed the detonation button," he licks his lips maliciously, and John just feels the urge to travel beyond the screen to punch him in his smug face. "But I did organise it all thanks to my criminal web. I orchestrated the plan of the explosion to make it look like a gas leak."
She gapes. Nothing of what he is saying makes any sense. How could Jim Moriarty ever be connected to her old life?
She is dumbstruck and barely manages to mumble, "You? Why?"
He shrugs and dryly replies, "Family matter."
She takes a deep breath to overcome the shock and think lucidly. "Yes, I've always known that my father's activities were bad news for that Mafia family and their dirty business. I imagine that they wanted him out of the game, and they most likely hired you – an accomplished criminal mastermind, for staging the explosion. But I was there too, I was supposed to be at the Consulate and the blast should have killed me, too. Why was I a target?"
Sherlock turns sharply towards the girl, an expression of sheer astonishment on his face; she has just found out an earth-shattering truth, but she isn't crumbling to pieces. On the contrary, she is doing precisely what she told him that she always wanted to do: confronting the person who destroyed her life to finally have all the answers on her involvement and the possible responsibility for her parent's death. Her inner strength is magnificent.
The criminal genius clears his throat, "If you must know, the Mafia family had already come up with some tentative assassination plots against your parents, but their planning capabilities were simply appalling. They didn't seem able to find the right scapegoat; had anything happened to your father, they would have been the first and only suspects. I was asked to provide my services to simulate a fateful accident only when you came into the picture, though. Your love story with Luca became your gravestone," he alludes.
John turns towards the girl, frowning. He has no idea what is going on: what is Moriarty talking about? Who is Luca?
Sherlock, for his part, recalls the revelations about her past lover that Giulia had finally brought to the surface that very evening, just before he offered to take her to the exhibition.
"So, that's it then? Luca's family found out about us and they feared that I might push their son – the heir of their criminal legacy, away from them and onto a path of redemption, so they chose to take me out?" she inquires. "And if that's so, where do you fit in all that, Moriarty?"
He smiles. He was wondering when she would dig in that direction. "You see, the plan wasn't exactly concocted by the whole family, but rather by one member particularly: Luca's mother."
She frowns and protests, "But she was a senseless character, married to the boss. She wasn't playing an active role in the family; she was simply a subdued wife as it is commonplace in mafia families from the dawn of time. I don't agree with this misogynistic vision, but that's the way it generally works. Nobody thought that she could ever pose any real threat."
Jim shakes his head, discouraged, "No no no. Giulia, I am so disappointed. Not you too: you are a slave of the patriarchy." He sighs, "Did you really think that Luca's father was the master of the house? No, darling, he was just a puppet with some decent scenic presence. Did it ever occur to you that the mother-and-wife was the real deal?"
She does a double-take. That insignificant woman being the real head of the family? No, that thought never crossed her mind. But what if that was the whole point of her demure appearance?
"All I know about her is that she was Irish. The Secret Service originally thought that the marriage was supposed to seal the union between that Latin American branch of the Italian mafia and the Irish one, but they could never establish clear criminal affiliations of that woman, nor retrace her family backstory; it didn't seem relevant anyway," she shrugs.
Jim closes his eyes and smiles peacefully. He is enjoying every second of it. When he speaks again, he chuckles, "The Secret Service's resources are so hilarious. Let me clear the air: she does have criminal affiliations. In fact, she is one of the greatest criminal masterminds of this century."
Sherlock arches a brow, surprised by that overt compliment. "Even greater than you?" he taunts him.
"No. Just like me," Moriarty corrects him before adding, "She is my sister."
The detective goggles. "Sister?" He didn't see that coming.
"Half-sister technically," he clarifies. "Same mother, different father, but the taste for blood is absolutely identical," he bares his teeth in a sly grin.
"Family matters, indeed. It appears that you were dating his nephew," John points out, addressing a frowned expression to Giulia: once everything is over, she will have a lot of explaining to do.
She shoots a dazed look at the screen. "How did you and his mother find out about us?"
His eyes shine with malice as he says, "Find out? Oh, sweetheart, your entire relationship was orchestrated by us. Luca had been given the task of making you fall in love with him so that you would pass to him important information about your family."
All of Giulia's certainties weaver at that unexpected revelation. The blood turns cold in her veins: it was all a lie. Everything she ever felt, all the things he told her were nothing more than a lie. She already knew that their love was toxic and poisonous, but fake… No, No! she shouts inside her brain, stopping that negative spiral. That is inconceivable; she can't even bring herself to believe it. It's impossible.
"This can't be the truth," she almost screams, raising her fists at the monitor while hot tears stream down her cheeks reddened with anger. She clenches her jaw, flaring her nostrils to take deep breaths to keep her fury under control. "I know that his destiny was to become the head of the family, one day. Don't think that he didn't come completely clean with me: he told me everything. And I know that he had been trained since he was a child, but he was changing. He didn't want that life for himself anymore. I read it in his eyes; he was sincere. And there's nothing you can tell me to convince me otherwise."
Moriarty scoffs and for the first time, he appears irritated, but then he regains his seraphic aplomb. "You're right. I really can't, because the point is he was indeed changing. He met you and wanted to become a good man," he grimaces at those aspirations and rolls his eyes. "How dull and disappointing. Yeah, maybe the beginning of your romance was founded on a lie, but things didn't quite play out the way his mother had planned. She wanted to extract information from you, but you never spilt anything to your boyfriend," his voice oozes admiration as he looks at her almost tenderly. "You stayed loyal to your family, unlike him. Against all odds and our best plans, he was the one who fell hard, eventually. He loved you truly and purely."
She is possibly even more confused, now. "How do you know?" she mumbles.
"He started passing onto us false information about your family, claiming that it all came from you and it was absolutely vital to keep your love story going to gather more intel. However, we soon found out the truth and understood that the only way to solve that unanticipated issue…"
"Was to kill me together with my parents," she completes his sentence.
He nods, "Precisely."
"You should have been more careful and prevented Luca from discovering your masterplan, then," she pronounces defiantly.
He cocks a brow at her. "Darling, has anyone ever told you that it is quite unpolite to assume that I am stupid?"
His condescending tone sends a shiver down her spine as he continues, "We made him find it out: two henchmen of the family discussed the plan of the explosion aloud right under the open window of his bedroom. We wanted him to overhear, we wanted him to know."
She gawks at him, "Why?"
"Isn't it obvious? It was a loyalty test, which he failed big time. We wanted to see whether he would side with his family and let you meet your death, or try and warn you. Now we all know what he chose," he takes a break to gesture theatrically at her presence in front of him. "But the truth of your survival has been kept secret for a long time. When the explosion blew off, you were documented dead. And since you never made it to your meeting with Luca, not even he knew that you survived. He simply assumed that you had refused to meet with him and perished in the attack; he stayed brokenhearted for quite some time. On the contrary, we believed that he hadn't told you anything and had chosen his family over you: we rejoiced. Everything was good: your annoying father was dead, which meant that our shady business was safe. And what is more, we got our lost son back in the family," he smiles at the memory of those happy times before his face clouds over. "Little did we know, he had betrayed us once again. He did try to warn you by asking you to meet him that very night, and unbeknownst to anyone, he had somehow succeeded in saving you."
He shakes his head with great disappointment. It was so upsetting for him to witness his nephew turn his back to the darkness.
She blinks repeatedly at the screen, a perennial mist of disorientation paralysing her mind since the moment Moriarty started overfeeding her with revelations. "I'm confused: if everybody in the family thought that I died in the explosion, how did you find out that I was still alive?"
Jim stares at her for a couple of seconds, wondering if he will ever stop smiling: he is having such a devilishly wonderful time in their company.
"This is an interesting story that involves another act of betrayal; against you, this time," he pretends to pout. "But I can't tell this story alone, so I think I'm going to ask for the kind assistance of the true protagonist: Thomas Wellington," he announces in his TV presenter's tone.
Giulia pales upon hearing that name. No. It can't be. Not him, please. Anyone but him.
At that moment, all the lights switch on and they realise that they are in a rather big room. Unlike the previous one, this chamber is simple and unadorned. There are two notable features to it, though: first, a series of sinister nozzles and jets are lined along the left wall for the entire length of the room. Second, the right wall is constituted by a huge glass window opening onto the adjacent room where one light has just turned on, shedding a pitiful ray on a strapping man chained to a metal armchair.
When Giulia sees him, her eyes fill with tears as her heart-rending cry echoes in the room, "Thomas!"
The man jolts his head up as he immediately recognises her voice, and he wriggles in vain against the restraints, calling her name.
She runs to the glass wall and places her hands flat on the cold surface. She wishes she could punch it until it shattered to pieces; she wishes she could run to him and free him of those shackles, but she knows that none of it would be possible. She must abide by the bloody rules of that vicious game.
Jim enjoys the helplessness in her watery gaze as she looks straight into the eyes of the next captive, then he explains, "I've really appreciated these first rounds, but I have something different in mind for the next part. I'd like to make this game a bit more interactive," he smirks. "From now on, no more monitors showing my guests: you will be able to talk and interact with them in real-time. It adds to the pathos."
Sherlock has been studying Giulia's devastated reaction; her fit of desperation has tied a knot in his stomach. It is not the first time that his body responds that way when the girl shows affection for another man, he self-diagnoses. He felt a similar clench in his gut when she acted in a familiar way with her bodyguard in their flat, earlier that night. Back then, he had harshly criticised her actions, and deep down, he knew why he behaved so rudely; he felt threatened. It made no logical sense; Giulia was just trying to act kindly towards a person who was going through a lot; her compassionate behaviour towards the guard wasn't undermining the peculiar relationship that she had with the detective – it was on a whole different level. There was no comparison to be made and this is why he was fully aware of the foolishness of his scornful reaction.
This time, though, things are different. This time, it is not her human nature or emotional intelligence moving her; she is genuinely scared to death at the prospect of losing that specific person. He has no idea who that man is and what his connection with Giulia is, but by her distraught state, he can tell that he must have been very important to her. Moreover, Moriarty's words provided additional information; that man was involved in her past and knew about her survival from the explosion.
It doesn't take him long to connect the dots: he is Giulia's former bodyguard and trainer. The one she only mentioned once, in Sherlock's hospital room, with sadness in her eyes at the memory of their separation occurred some months before. And yet, in the recount of her past, she never specified the nature of the relationship with him, not even when they were alone in Baker Street, that very evening, some hours before.
Sherlock raises a sullen gaze on the prisoner beyond the glass; he is the missing piece in Giulia's backstory.
He straightens his shoulders, trying to drive away all his jealous thoughts, and sneers at Jim, "Did you bring this man in tonight only to play with Giulia's mind?"
Moriarty gives him a patronizing look, "Her mind? Don't be silly, Sherlock. No, I want to play with her heart," the last word rolls wolfishly off his tongue.
He keeps his eyes fixed on the detective, already savouring the poignant blow that he is about to inflict on him, "Maybe you ignore some details about the relationship that Giulia had with her bodyguard, so let me fill you in."
He glances at the chained man, starting his story, "Before the explosion, back to the old placid life at the Consulate, Thomas Wellington was her security mentor, trainer and bodyguard. They shared a bond of absolute trust which is ultimately what allowed Giulia to stay alive and find shelter after the explosion. After the attack, he became a consultant in the MI6's investigation due to his old ties in the force, and in so doing, he also became her personal informant, keeping her in the loop with the developments of the investigation and following her around the world; whenever she assumed a new identity, he was always by her side."
She gulps nervously at his words but doesn't deny anything, so Jim goes on, "That's when they grew closer, am I right, Giulia? You became proper friends: he was your confidant. It felt good to have someone close who knew precisely what you were going through – a person who could be by your side when you needed him most, who could understand your pain because he knew your experience, your loss."
She lowers her head, overwhelmed by emotion. It's all true. That's precisely how she felt during those chaotic months between the explosion that destroyed her old life and the arrival in London, which marked her rebirth.
"How cute," he declares in a mocking tone, "But to you, Thomas was nothing more than a close friend, wasn't he? The problem, though, is that things were slightly different for him. He was falling in love with you, he had real feelings," Moriarty provokes her.
As Sherlock and John arch their brows at the girl, she avoids meeting their stupefied gazes and stares into the bodyguard's eyes, instead. When their eyes lock, she bites down on her lips. She knows that Jim is telling the truth; she can read it in Thomas's eyes at that very moment; he got too close, but it was her fault, too.
As if Jim was reading her mind, he continues his emotional torture, "And then something happened, one night in Amsterdam."
Her head whips up and she shoots a horrified look at the screen; Please, stop, she mentally screams. Not another word. Leave it buried in the past – let it gnaw at me inside, me only. No one else needs to know.
Moriarty stares into her pleading eyes, taking great pleasure from the vivisection of her heart. He announces flatly, "You two kissed."
Sherlock narrows his eyes at her, feeling another wave of jealousy building up inside. That's why she never talked about him, he concludes gloomily.
Jim keeps talking, "Just one kiss; that's all it took for everything to fall apart. One kiss – a momentary lapse of judgement that would cause you to lose the closest person you had. I bet it didn't mean much to you, am I wrong? You did it in the heat of the moment when he communicated that the MI6 had unravelled another lead in the investigation. Is this the justification that you gave yourself?" he exaggerates a contemplative pose.
"It was the euphoria and the wave of enthusiasm coupled with the romantic setting of the city, maybe?" he comes up with all the possible excuses that she might have provided herself for that rash gesture. "It might not have been very meaningful to you, but you didn't suspect that it was a huge deal for him, instead. You have been so blind and naïve, so self-centred and focused on your sorrow that you didn't realise that he was desperately pining for you. Now, I'm really curious to hear about your version of that night. Why did you kiss him?"
She looks down, defeated. When she speaks, her voice is nothing more than a whisper, "I felt lost, I was so confused. I kissed him because he was the first person that didn't make me feel alone. For the first time since my parents' death and since Luca's poisonous love, he was the first person with whom I felt almost like myself."
'Almost'. Sherlock didn't miss that critical addition. Almost is not enough. Nobody should feel any less than completely themselves with the right person.
She takes a deep breath, mustering her courage to meet Thomas's crushed gaze. "I'm so sorry, Tommy, I really am."
The detective frowns at that affectionate nickname and realises what awakened in him the green-eyed monster, in the words of Shakespeare. It is the level of intimacy that she shared with that man. He doesn't even care that the two of them kissed; that's just a simple act. The sparkle of his jealousy lies in her tender and familiar attitude; even the banal use of a nickname reveals deep closeness. This is what he aspires to have with her and this is what he is most jealous of.
Giulia keeps apologising to her bodyguard, her voice choked-up, "I shouldn't have done it. I made a gigantic mistake; I should have never led you on."
Jim rolls up his eyes in annoyance, "That's one of the worst flaws of human nature: you people go around hurting others and then fall on your knees to implore forgiveness, expecting that your apologies will wipe the slate clean."
"As if you'd never hurt anybody," John sarcastically intervenes.
Jim smirks contemptuously, "Oh, I've done plenty of hurting. But the difference between me and you mere mortals is that I don't regret anything; I don't reprimand anything to myself. But you do, don't you, Giulia? And I'm not just talking about that insignificant kiss; no, that was just a fleeting moment. Everything truly went south a couple of days later when you and Thomas moved to London, after discovering that the criminal organisation that had ordered the explosion at the Consulate had its UK headquarters here. You did it on the very first day."
Watson furrows his brow, "Did what?"
"She broke his heart," Jim declares and Sherlock pricks up his ears for a much-awaited explanation of why the two of them went separate ways. It is not long in coming from the mouth of the criminal, "Thomas presented her with his plans for their new life; he had thought of everything: they would move to a quiet small town in the Lake District, far from the dangers of the City and the risk of further attacks by the head of that criminal web on whom the MI6 was still groping in the dark. A little hint: I'm talking about moi," he points his thumbs at himself. "Thomas got it all figured out: they would lead a tranquil, uneventful life together, sharing love and affection," he fakes a dreamy look before going harshly back to reality. "But she rejected him; she rejected all of his ideas. He was so heartbroken," he casts a pitiful glance at his prisoner.
Sherlock, who has just sobered up from his fit of jealousy after hearing about her rejection, focuses back on Jim's involvement and comments sharply, "Are you trying to make a point? Apart from your deliberate attempt at crushing her spirit with all this reminiscing, I fail to see how you fit in all of that."
Moriarty relaxes his shoulders, He was waiting for someone to inquire about his connection to the bodyguard; he had anticipated that Giulia would ask the question, but Sherlock seems much more eager to get to the bottom of the story. Getting the detached, emotionless detective jealous is his most ambitious goal for this round, and by the looks of it, his plan is working out just perfectly.
"I had been keeping an eye on him ever since he left Latin America to rejoin the Secret Service. I knew all about him and his past in the intelligence but I was surprised to see him working for his former employers again, moving at regular intervals from city to city, across the world. I suppose now we can all imagine that he was travelling with Giulia, escorting her to every new place. I couldn't imagine any of that, back then, but his return at her Majesty's service could only mean that he was directly involved in the ongoing MI6 investigation on the attack at the Consulate. Yet, it didn't add up: the mere fact that he was a retired agent who had been working for the Consul's family over the past years didn't really justify his active participation in the enquiry. After all, he was the late bodyguard of a deceased girl: what added value could he bring to the table?" he rhetorically asks, before going on.
"I studied him for quite some time and decided that he could turn out to be incredibly valuable. He was in the inner circle and was likely to be the weak link. I know Mycroft Holmes's men; they are all quite trustworthy but he... oh, he could be convinced," a malicious smile bends the corner of his mouth. "I just needed to find out how. As soon as he landed in London, I started conducting surveillance on him and I saw him getting out of the office in a miserable mood, at the end of his very first day; it was the night you rejected him. This is when I made his acquaintance. But let me tell you a story."
Author's note: Dear readers, I decided to split this round into several chapters to make it easier to read. I will update soon.
Now, Giulia's complete backstory has finally been revealed. I'd love to have your thoughts on this chapter. I promise that the action will come, but I did need some dialogue to set the scene. I hope that you don't mind. After all, Moriarty is one of my all-time favourite villains and I couldn't help but indulge in long scenes with him.