Chapter 7

The Requirement of Genius

"We're not who we are."

He repeated the exact same phrase one last time and refused to speak again, returning his downcast gaze to the tabletop. At least he wasn't smiling or laughing about the dead. Sherlock stood and walked out of the interview room. Closing the door behind him, he glanced up to find Donovan, Anderson, Lestrade, and Moriarty joining him.

"When you eliminate what's impossible. What remains must be the truth, no matter how mad. John is the murderer," he murmured, and knew he would say nothing more.

"Killer Johnny. Fascinating! Didn't imagine he had it in him to be cold-blooded. No, I never imagined he could be so much fun!"

Great, Moriarty was doing his whole speaking high-pitched and childish thing. Sherlock did not ever want to reveal weakness in front of his arch-enemy of all people, nor police like Anderson and Donovan who loathed him, but it was John. He stepped backward until his back hit the wall and slid down it, sinking to a crouched position, head lowered to stare at the floor.

/

The following day, John vanished from his holding cell. Lestrade arrived at Sherlock's flat to find him wide awake and staring into space, seated upright in his chair. Together they traveled to the station in silence. The only words ever spoken were the words that brought the consultant with him: "John's gone."

They should have been more surprised upon their arrival to find Moriarty waiting for them. Perhaps it was because neither one had gotten any sleep the previous night that tempered their attitude at seeing him. He followed them into the station and they let him without a fuss. What was happening right now was too difficult as it was.

Anderson and his forensics team were poring over the cell John disappeared from, searching for how he could have possibly escaped. The three of them saw Donovan observing the ongoing forensic search, looking awfully sleep-deprived herself. Sherlock supposed it should be noted, Moriarty appeared well-rested as ever.

When he stepped into the holding cell, Donovan and Anderson glanced his way wearing identical expressions. Hopeful, desperate. They were looking to him for answers and he had none to give. The expression that reflected back at them was a dazed one, nothing more.

Usually so observant, he never realized Lestrade had gone until he returned with another man. This was someone Sherlock had never met. He stared at this new person with dull eyes. Sensing Sherlock was utterly useless for the moment, Moriarty was more than happy to step into his place.

Stepping forward, he introduced himself with a slight smile. "Jim Moriarty. And you are..?"

The man had been eyeing Sherlock but he rounded on Jim in the next moment. He rounded, quite literally, moving in a small circle around the criminal mastermind as he examined him up and down. Not one for boundaries. Moriarity didn't care much for other people's boundaries or privacy either.

"Hm... High maintenance, likes to keep clean, often passive-aggressive. Intelligent, but you know it, so cocky too. Your stance says you think yourself untouchable, your eyes say mental instability. I'd say psychopath with undertones of sociopathy and sadism. You like to hurt people who have something to lose, usually in the form of games, and you always have to win. I'd say a sort of anti-social personality disorder. Probably stems from never being loved as a child."

The man stood in front of Moriarty, peering into his face with his head tilted to the side. "The thing I can say for sure, you have a major narcissistic personality disorder."

He took a step back. "Hi, I'm Dr. L. Calman, detective inspector. I'm skilled at reading people." His attention diverted over to Sherlock. "Detective Lestrade asked me to take a look at your friend. I've reviewed the tapes and there are some things I'd like you to see."

Without waiting to make sure he was followed, the man in the suit and tie walked down the hall a ways and into a room. A surveillance room full of screens and a control board. All the monitors were showing the interview of John with Dimmock, Donovan, and Sherlock present. He'd been followed by everyone. Lestrade, Moriarty, and even Donovan and Anderson. They wanted to see what this man had to say. If they could learn something new, they were fully open to it. It was preferable.

Dr. Calman sat in one of the chairs, reclining comfortably, while the rest remained standing. He leaned forward a bit and tapped a few keys, freezing the video recording at a certain point where John was smirking the horrid smirk that still haunted Sherlock's waking thoughts. He turned to eye his audience.

"Dr. John Watson. I know you don't want to hear it, seeing as he's your friend, but guilt is what I read on him throughout much of this interview."

Donovan made a noise as she inhaled sharply. Lestrade lit up a cigarette, still illegal in public buildings, but no one said anything. Everyone was listening to the detective. The expert took a breath of his own, then pointed to the image he'd put up and paused on.

"Now here's where it gets really interesting. There are seven points on this recording where your suspect shows the same emotion. For example," he explained, pointing to the largest of the dozen or so screens. "Here his mouth is smirking, but his eyes show fear. The smirk is false. His eyes reveal the lie."

Sherlock was at full attention, dazed state dissipating. Dr. Calman was messing with the control panel, moving forward through the tape.

"This is the biggest tell I observed."

The image he'd frozen on was when Sherlock and John were seated across from one another in silence. Seven minutes of silence. The detective froze it right when John looked away from Sherlock before turning back to him and speaking words the consultant had not understood. John was staring directly into the camera and he was showing the same look in his eyes.

"See. Again. Fear in the eyes. Your boy takes a look at the camera, very much afraid, and I think of it."

"Sorry, what?" Lestrade questioned.

"I think he's afraid of the camera itself, being surveilled. He looks at it before saying anything to this one. Frankly, I think he's trying to tell you something."

Sherlock stared. He didn't understand. He'd no idea what John could mean by his whole, "We're not who we are."

Air. Had to get some air or at least out of this damned room. He stepped out and away from those stares. Everybody always wanted him to be a genius, supplying the answers they needed. Well this time he didn't know!

"Sherrrrlooock." His name was said in a high-pitched sing-song.

"What?" he snarled out at a man he wished would stay away from him.

"That was always the thing about you, Sherlock. You forget details when under pressure, miss key points when you either concentrate too hard or things get a little too personal."

"What are you saying? Just- Get to the point."

Moriarty shrugged his shoulders, hands in his pockets. "Johnny boy was talking to you, not me."

Sherlock frowned and immediately went back into the room he vacated a minute ago. Looking pleased and somewhat amused, Moriarty followed after him. Upon his reentry, everyone looked to him. Dr. Calman stood from his chair, stepping away to give access to the detective consultant.

"Ideas, Mr. Holmes? I hear you're very good."

Not saying a word, he stepped up to the controls and his eyes moved rapidly as he went through the interview tape from the start to the first time his heart nearly stopped. When John had spoken the words that led his mind straight to the evil man standing in the doorway. He paused and played the tape.

"People die every day."

He stopped there and turned to Moriarty. "No, see, he was talking to you there, Jim."

The amusement only grew on the criminal's face. "Oh?"

"Dying, that's what people do. Something you said when you and I first met. He wanted me to go to you. You would have some kind of information for me..."

Moriarty merely continued to half-smile, looking at him without revealing anything. He didn't have the luxury of time to wait. He needed to keep searching for clues. Sherlock turned his back on the unhelpful man and resumed watching the video.

"Your days of freedom have ended."

John's terrible laugh following DI Dimmock's words. He frowned at the moment, rewinding and playing it back again. There had to be something there because it couldn't be John. No way.

"There."

Sherlock paused the tape and glanced in Dr. Calman's direction, waiting for him to continue.

"The laugh is an empty one. You can see by his throat, the way it trembles, that it is forced. It's a lie. Something about that word freedom has him faking a laugh."

He hit play.

"Why run?"

"She surprised me. Caught me off guard. That never happened before."

"Yes, but why not clean it up? Make her disappear too?"

"You think it was a sign I cared? Some kid gets shot once in the head and someone like me loses it? No. I left no trace of myself at that crime scene. Like I said, my employers have apparently decided I'm to take the blame. I ran because killing the girl was not my orders. Self-preservation."

"She was shot twice."

For the first time, the real John faltered. "What?"

"You said the girl was shot once in the head, but she was killed by sustaining two bullet wounds to the chest. The first from a distance and the second at close range. Shouldn't the one who killed her know a detail like that?"

John waved it off. "Slip of the tongue. How long are we gonna do this?"

Sherlock shook his head. "I knew something was off here." He looked at Lestrade. "John didn't know the girl died by two bullets. He mixed up the man's cause of death with the girl's. It's odd for a hired gun to mistake how he performed his kills."

"Well..."

Impatiently, he waved a hand in his general direction. "Spit it out, Anderson."

"Someone else was probably there. Two bullets from two different guns killed the girl. It's possible the killshot was not fired from Dr. Watson's gun. The other easily could have been. He might have worked with someone else and got distracted, forgot who killed who?"

That wasn't something he wanted to hear. The consultant returned his attention to the monitor and forwarded a bit, messing with the controls to find whatever he needed next.

"They'll make me disappear."

He replayed John saying those words at least four times before turning to Moriarty. "Jim, do you know anything? Was I right? Was John trying to tell me you could help?"

Moriarty was humming to himself, looking thoughtful. He adjusted a tie that didn't need adjusting, and then slipped his mobile phone out of his pocket. Dr. Calman sighed impatiently.

"He knows something. He can help. Go on."

The man smiled. "You really are talented. Interesting."

Sherlock's eyes bored into him and he held his phone outward to show the video replaying on a loop. It was John. John was in his cell but he was standing, looking timid, appearing to be waiting. For daylight? No. A few seconds later several men entered his cell. They were dressed in black and they came at John. He took one down before the other two brought him to the ground, a shiny needle catching the light for a moment before being thrust into John's neck. Another couple of seconds and he wasn't moving anymore. It was simple enough for one of the men to then hoist him over his shoulder and carry him out. The other helped his friend up and out of the cell. The door shut behind them as though nothing had happened and the video cut out.

"Where the hell did you get that?" demanded Lestrade.

"I have eyes everywhere. Your tapes were mysteriously wiped clean at exactly the time it took to get in and out of your station. Luckily the feed was sent to me before someone inside your station wiped your surveillance tapes. So I have the pleasure of watching this on a whim."

"How did you know they were- Oh bloody hell!" Lestrade was so puzzled and lost that he was severely ticked off.

"How do we know you didn't take him? Those guys could be yours!" Anderson queried, accusing the sole proven criminal in the room.

"Must your default always be set on blaming the most intimidating person in the room?" Sherlock asked, not truly paying attention to either of them. His mind was racing through every detail of the video.

It shut Anderson right up. He'd been so wrong about Sherlock. They had all been so very wrong about Sherlock being a criminal seeking attention and looked like idiots when they'd become aware of their mistake. The press had a field day with the police, Moriarty had once again made headlines as a true criminal mastermind, and crime increased to an all time high. Ugh. Distractions.

Sherlock swayed and straightened himself out as his hands went to the sides of his head. Guilt, rage, disappointment, fear, concern... He kept his emotions bottled up for a reason. Not feeling made it much easier to solve cases and get on with answering the things he required answered when he needed it. This time, his refusal to feel emotion dulled his senses enough that he didn't observe as he usually did when he was playing sociopath.

"I'm having such a good time, Sherlock. I mean, I can't believe you didn't see it sooner. You seem to have gotten rusty during your time playing dead. It's a good thing we know they won't kill him."

"What? How do you know that?" Donovan inquired, looking bewildered.

"Wanna tell her, Sherlock?" Moriarty smirked. "Awww... Poor Sherly, can't think straight enough to save his pet."

He came at Moriarty then, shoving the smaller man up against the wall. "After what you did to John, you don't get to act like this. Go ahead and have one of your snipers shoot me dead. Run me down in the street. But don't you say a bad word about him if you value your own health. He, of all people, didn't deserve what you did, and I'll never forget those things either."

Moriarty got ugly fast. "Bet you'll never forget those things wouldn't have happened if you hadn't played dead and died like you were supposed to."

"Oh don't pretend. You act self-righteous and entitled to be opposed to the great Sherlock Holmes, the infamous detective who you hate to hear about. But John gets to you and you know it. You hurt John because it was John, and you wanted to make him pay for being the man he is."

"Is there something I should be knowing here?" Lestrade asked, concern etched across his already worn face.

There was no official report. Nothing to prove what Moriarty did. John made certain of that, irrational shame and embarrassment preventing him from coming forward. Not that an official report would have made a difference. Men like Moriarty were untouchable for the most part.

Moriarty was still looking pretty annoyed and there was definitely fury in those mad eyes of his. But just like that, in a single blink, the dark emotion vanished, replaced by unmistakable pride.

"Fine. If you can't explain to the police why they won't kill John, and what you've missed completely, I will." He blandly scanned the room of cops plus Sherlock and began. "John Watson is a soldier. Killing is precisely within his capabilities."

"Are you saying-?"

The criminal shushed Lestrade with a raised palm and an impatient look. "John also has strong morality and would never take a life unless another's was under immediate threat. Therefore, John Watson would not murder. In conclusion,"

Sherlock gritted his teeth. The terrible man was enjoying this far too much.

"John can kill. John will not murder. Therefore, John is being forced to murder."

He said it all in his obnoxious, sing-song voice, and he was tempted to rearrange the man's face in that very instant. Instead he thought of John and what could be happening to him, and for once, it resulted in his hard drive switching back on.

"They've taken him so he can continue his work. The people who are forcing him to murder gave the police a face to blame, to hunt, for all those people dying. It doesn't mean they're done with him."

His calm theorizing gave way to frustration and renewed confusion. "Still, this doesn't make sense! John would never kill just because he had a gun to his head or even a gun to another's. He doesn't have it in him to be so..cold-blooded."

Moriarty smirked slightly. "You don't have to tell me. Murder is not in John Watson's heart. The fool couldn't even kill me."

He stared at the man. This was new. "How do you mean?"

The smirk only widened, scanning his audience of police and police consultant with impunity. "When the good doctor came to end my life months back to avenge your supposed death, he hesitated, choked. He-could-not-do-it. Such a heart of gold in that one. But where's that gotten him?"

"Okay, that's enough. If you're right, Sherlock, bodies are going to start popping up again and it's my job to prevent that."

Lestrade's attempt to derail the current direction of the conversation was in vain. The criminal had Sherlock's captive gaze and he was going to take full advantage.

"The saying is true, I guess. Heroes are doomed to end tragic."

Dark eyes looked pointedly at Sherlock, who was impatient and upset. John was missing, likely in duress, and he didn't know what was to be done in this moment. That was why he gave the man before him his attention. He was dangerous and at times childish and might possibly decide he didn't want to be ignored. So he'd give him his time for now, while he couldn't do anything for John. He didn't have to pretend to like the other man though, and would display his disinterest in Moriarty clearly.

"Are you still on about me and you?" Sherlock questioned, staring with disdain. "Oh turn the page, will you? Everyone else has."

His enemy sneered at the blatant disgust shown for him. "Ooooh. Someone's touchy. You may have turned the page on my giving you your-well-deserved-fall, but not about my..one on one time with Dr. Watson. I thought you'd appreciate it. I mean, I told you I wanted to try having a live-in of my own. You should be flattered I chose yours to be mine."

"John doesn't belong to me, you git. And he certainly doesn't belong to you."

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Anderson and Donovan shifting from where they stood against the wall. They were contemplating leaving out of politeness, but like the average person, they chose to stay out of some kind of morbid fascination with the battle of wits on display. He tried to pretend he didn't have emotions most of the time because they often proved to be a hinderance, clouding his mind from figuring things out. It wasn't going to happen in this moment when Moriarty tugged at Sherlock's last nerve.

"Well, he belonged to me for six days."

Sherlock spun on the man. "You raped him!"

The people in the room startled save for Lestrade, who knew of this prior to the man accused by Sherlock now. To the others, this was the first they were hearing about such a crime. The horrible crime happening to John Watson made the news even worse. Lestrade was flexing for his weapon, sincerely wishing he could use it against a monster.

Moriarty wasn't smiling, but he didn't look sorry either. "I admit I was rather rough with him the second go around... Oh?" Surprise registering with the consulting detective brought a grin to a now incredibly smug face. "Dear me. Did Johnny not tell you about our first time?"

"No. You're lying."

He was gradually meandering about the room, picking up a random object here or there, savoring the words he told to Sherlock.

"I snatched John that night, shortly after receiving your message to meet at the pool. We had hours to spend together. I played it off as an interrogation tactic, but really, I just wanted to make you suffer by having me be his first time with a man..instead of you."

A puzzled expression overtook Sherlock. He regarded the cruel man currently tapping the fingers of one hand along the length of a nearby table as he went. Moriarty saw and scoffed with a minor chuckle following.

"Oh don't pretend. You loooove Johnny. Too bad. I had him first."

Sherlock punched the cocky bastard under the chin. He was a tad sorry John hadn't been there to do it, knowing the other man would have successfully broken the nose or jaw. Still, his own blow managed to leave a small cut on Moriarty's lower cheekbone. He'd prefer to strangle him. He focused on centering himself and remembering John's dilemma.

"Lestrade, government officials in the area. Look into it."

"Right. We can try to predict who might be targeted next. Unfortunately, we'll need to look into all government employees and there's no short supply of those."

He nodded to Donovan and Anderson, who left to get a team started, while Lestrade lagged behind. The detective inspector was uncertain leaving Sherlock and Moriarty by themselves. Sherlock returned his thoughts to his friend. Moriarty settled for reveling in this situation by being himself, only less talkative.

"How could I not have seen this? John tried to warn what was going to happen to him," Sherlock noted in horror to Lestrade, who listened sympathetically. "He practically said it flat-out! I missed it. I never miss things. Damn it, John!"

His self-deprecating remarks served to concern the inspector and entertain James Moriarty. The latter began to giggle. Fuckin' insane people.