MEANWHILE

Lissie had been left alone for some time, and she'd used her time to make a thorough examination of her cell. There was a drain, but it was not wide enough to escape through. There were no windows. A single lightbulb dimly illuminating the cell seemed to add to the gloom.

She sat down, feeling the cold stone through her clothes. She pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them in an effort to get warm.

Would Sherlock come? A selfish part of her wished he would. However, she knew he should not walk into this trap.

Moriarty had seemed very sure Sherlock would arrive. She wondered about this. Sherlock hadn't really shown any affection to her, had he? Would he risk his life to track her down?

Will anyone miss me when I die? Poor Sherlock, he'll have lost two now.

They were morbid thoughts,but then, she had grown up in the shadow of her mother's death. Her grandparents had also recently died- she was quite familiar with the subject. Lissie comforted herself with:

I'll see Mum in heaven.

Her lip was still dripping blood. It was beginning to congeal,though, and she pressed her hand to stop the bleeding.

The man named Jock opened the door and began to pull her out. She lunged at him, sinking her teeth into his palm. He yelped and shut the door, cursing and screaming for Moriarty.

She knew fighting was futile and foolish, that it would only bring her more pain in the long run. But she would not go down without a fight. Moriarty would not destroy Britain easily if she could help it.

The room empty again, she rested her head on her knees and tried to quell her worry. She felt so very alone in this vast stone emptiness. She heard faint noises and tensed. Someone was coming.

It was Moriarty. He hummed to himself, stopping in front of her.

"You think you're clever, because you can stop those simpletons. Well, I've got an entire network of dangerous people, and I'll let some of them have a go at you. Then we'll see how you like it, hmm?"

She made a face at him. He laughed. "You are boring, Lissie. Just like Sherlock, you are so determined to protect your dear little friends and family. You're practically little angels; it's boring. I'm tired of this."

He smiled his creepy smile again and clapped his hands. "I know! Let's have some fun!"

She tried not to show her fear as he advanced.

"The real fun starts when your precious Sherlock gets here, but..." He punched her so hard her head snapped back, and she saw bright spots.

"Didn't know old Moriarty had it in him, did you? Thought he had people to do all his dirty work?"

She struggled not to cry. In her head, she began thinking. "When I am afraid, I will put my trust in Thee..."

"You are familiar with chess? Should I explain it to you? It has a fascinating history."

"School's out," she said with more bravado than she felt.

He nodded. "No more history, then. You know what a pawn is?"

She said, "Yes."

"Good. That is what you are. My little pawn for Sherlock."

A man came in with a bucket. Moriarty took it from him. He placed it on the ground amend looked excited. "Now for the fun." He forced her head in. She gasped, feeling the cold water. Lissie held her breath as long as she could, but two minutes in she began flailing about. Her lungs tightened, and dizzy fear overcame her. Was this man going to let her drown?

Someone cried "Moriarty! Stop!"

Choking and coughing, she was pulled out and shoved to the side. Who was her savior? She struggled to sit up, throat burning.

It was Sherlock. He had a gun pointed at Moriarty, his other hand balled into a fist. His coat swirling about him, he looked quite the hero.

"Lissie, are you alright?" he asked urgently.

"I'm okay," she sputtered. Then "Sherlock!"

He spun around, but it was too late. The room was filling with Moriarty' s men, all clutching guns.

"It is amazing, whom one can hire," Moriarty laughed. "Now, Sherlock, be a good boy and drop your gun. You and Lissie are about to play a little game with me. But first, a few questions."

He directed them to chairs and had Mutt tie them both up, across from each other.

Mutt was rough, and the rope dug into Lissie's arms. She winced and looked at Sherlock. His eyes met hers, silently willing her to be strong.

"Sherlock. We meet again."

"Cut the drama, Moriarty."

"Anything for you. How fitting; you said 'cut'. Now, what I have here is a knife. Should you two play along, I will not have to use it. Understand?"

"I understand," Sherlock said, eyes still not leaving Lissie's face.

As he watched,Moriarty drug the knife across the girl's arm.

"Naughty Sherlock. You didn't tell me you had a daughter. Oh! Perhaps you didn't even know. Did you have an AFFAIR?" His eyebrows wiggled.

Sherlock' s voice was calm, but his hands uncharacteristically shook. "I was married."

Moriarty feigned shock. "Oh,my. A woman loved YOU? This is your daughter?"

"Let her go! She has nothing you want."

"You didn't answer me!" Moriarty taunted.

Lissie struggled not to cry out. She watched as jagged red lines appeared on her skin. When Sherlock was silent, the knife dug harder.

A little cry of pain escaped her, and she pressed her lips together in an effort to hold it in.

But Sherlock had heard. Quickly, he said, "She's my daughter."

Moriarty set the knife down. "Well. See how easy cooperation is?"

Sherlock' s eyes blazed wildly. "Moriarty!", he cried forcefully.

"Yes?"

Passionately, he choked out "Listen to me. Do whatever you want to me; I don't care. I'll tell you anything and everything. But let the girl go. She hasn't done anything wrong. She is nothing to you."

When Moriarty didn't answer, he added, "Please."

The evil man's whole face lit up. "I do like to see you beg. The famous consulting detective, reduced to...this."

He began to circle Sherlock, reminding Lissie of a vulture.