Did you miss me? :D
The poison powder idea comes from Nancy Drew and the Mystery of the Ivory Charm.
Sherlock needlessly flung an arm out to keep Lissie back. She blinked. What did he think she would do, run to Moriarty?
Moriarty kept a gun aimed at Lissie as he walked slowly to them. "That's right, Sherlock. No need to look scared. This time you aren't the one getting hurt."
"I don't want to play games," Sherlock snarled. He tried to advance, but Moriarty moved towards the trigger and Sherlock froze, palms outward.
"Miss Holmes- Lissie, is it not? We weren't properly introduced last time."
"Yes," she said, trying to sound calm and bored.
"Sherlock, if you try to sneak up like that I'll have to pull this trigger, mkay? Now, Lissie, you are going to help me." Moriarty sounded as if he was speaking to a child.
Sherlock, who had been silently edging forward, stopped. They were all at the edge of the cemetery now, and the sun was beginning to set.
"Lissie, I am not going to try to get any information from your father. Isn't it weird, to think of him as a father? Hmm? Anyway, I am instead going to "- Moriarty, keeping the gun in his right hand trained on her, picked up a twig with his left- "break him." He snapped the twig in two.
"Come with me, children," he laughed, leading them to their car. "Sherlock, be a good boy and give me the keys. One of my men will keep a gun to Lissie so you don't try anything."
Sherlock told Moriarty exactly where he could go as he handed the keys over and was blindfolded.
They drove. The fact that Moriarty made no effort to blindfold her made Lissie nervous. Break Sherlock? Through her? How?
They arrived at a house. Moriarty led the way inside, a man pulling Sherlock along and another holding a gun to Lissie's temple.
"Did you tell your new cronies your last guys were arrested?" Lissie asked dryly. "I guess not. Good help is hard to come by."
Moriarty laughed again. "Ahh, the unshakeable bravery of the young!"
He took the gun now, and her captor tied her to a chair.
"Here we are again," Moriarty said as Sherlock, too, was tied. "Only this time, Sherlock, you will remain unscathed."
Sherlock had some idea what Moriarty meant. He would be forced to watch Lissie be tortured and die, then let free, thus 'breaking' him. He would be free; Lissie never would. Oh, God, help.
He knew pleading was absolutely useless and would further incite Moriarty, so he tried bargaining.
Let the consequences fall. He would betray Britian now, the United Kingdom, the free world. Goddammit, anything if it meant he could save Lissie. At least she was blissfully unaware, assuming they would somehow break free. He was glad his mind could work faster than others.
He made a weak offer. "The gate code for Parliament' s parking garage, Moriarty. All yours. Think of all the car bombs you could wreak havoc with."
"It's too late, Sherlock." The sadistic man stepped to a table and began to mix a white powder into a glass of water.
"Mycroft's ID."
"Borrring," Moriarty said complacently.
"A fake Canadian alibi, complete with a passport, birth certificate, and more."
"Sherlock, you sound like a commercial."
"I can get you into Sandringham House. A key to the dome of the American Capitol building. A Pentagon or M I6 ID. White House clearance."
Lissie watched this exchange with increasing dismay. It was becoming obvious Sherlock was bargaining for her. Her health or life ; she didn't know which.
Moriarty re-covered Sherlock' s eyes. "Just for a bit. I want you to imagine what's going on. It's so much more fun."
Sherlock heightened his other senses, eyes covered. His ears heard a terrible crunch, and a cry from Lissie. Then there was the sickly sweet smell of blood. A scraping sound. A little gasp.
I'm a horrible father, he thought. Elsie had thought he would keep Lissie safe? Instead, Lissie was being tortured on his account. He writhed in the chair.
"Sherlock," Lissie cried suddenly, and he already felt broken, though he knew the torture was just beginning.
"That's right," he heard Moriarty say. "Tell him how much it hurts. Tell him."
It must have been an hour later that the blindfold was removed and Sherlock, blinking in the light, saw that Lissie, her face and arm bloody, was sitting on a surprisingly nice bed while Moriarty carried her a glass.
"Don't drink yet," Moriarty cautioned, "Now, Sherlock. The powder I put in that glass will put the victim to sleep within a few minutes. You know what it is, I believe? Ahh, don't say it, it's more exciting when you don't know what you're dying from. Can you describe the death process, however?"
"You'll have about ten minutes of perfect clarity, then fall into a seemingly harmless sleep. Within a few hours, you will awake in terrible pain. It feels as though your insides are being eaten away. Then you die." Sherlock spoke quickly, emotionless so as not to give Moriarty any pleasure. He could vision exactly where he'd been at the London School of Tropical Medicine when he'd read the pages about the powder. It had been autumn, and the - he snapped himself back to the present rudely. The mind-palace was such a safer place.
"Yes. I'm very prepared, I even brought an antidote. It can save someone up to the last second. I'll sit it here, this shelf out of reach. Do you know what I'm going to do now? I'm going to give Lissie this poison, and you will watch her die, unable to reach the antidote. Then I'll come back, give you a shot, and you'll wake up at your flat!"
Sherlock leaned forward, still bound to the chair. "Moriarty, if you had a child, I would not attempt to get to you through harming them." Kidnap or threaten, perhaps, he conceded. But this was such a cowardly move.
"That's why you're so boring, Sherlock!" Moriarty handed Lissie the glass. She was about to throw it to the floor when he cautioned, "Sherlock will not remain safe if you don't drink."
"Don't do it, Lissie," Sherlock pleaded.
Moriarty snorted. "Believe me, I will still kill her, only with something less humane than poison." He made a move to Sherlock, and Lissie quickly drank. "I'll let you two spend your last ten minutes together alone, then." He vanished.
"Sherlock, will this poison really kill me?"
He was never one to hesitate. "Yes." No one knew where they were. How could he have been so stupid? Love made one weak, slowed them down. He had let his deductions slip.
For a split second he saw something like fear flicker behind her eyes. Then she said, "I've encountered more trouble in the six months I've known you than I've ever had. And it was actually pretty exciting."
"Minus the broken arm and memory loss?"
"Yeah, minus that."
Less than ten minutes. What should he do, say?
"I'm not really scared, just sort of afraid of the unknown," she said slowly. "I know I'll be in heaven, but, well, I've never died before." She attempted a weak smile.
He took a bit to gather his swirling thoughts. Then he said, "You have been so brave, Lissie. Throughout everything. Putting up with the Raymonds, then me, holding on to your mother's memory - you've been exceptional." A little embarrassed, he stopped.
She was quiet. Had she already fallen into the fatal sleep? Panicked, he pulled at the ropes, but then he heard her.
"I love you, Sherlock," she said feebly.
Love. What a strong word and yet she truly meant it. Not many people loved the cold, complex Mr. Holmes.
"I love you, too," he said through white lips, knowing any second he would lose her.
She gave an acknowledging smile and then- her eyes closed, and she fell back onto the pillows.
His head bowed. Never since Elsie's death had he felt this way. It was as if all sunshine had gone from the world.
He had cried once today. And indeed, today must have been a day of firsts, for Sherlock Holmes , who never cried, never showed emotion, screamed. It was more like a grief- driven howl.
The antidote bottle sat there, tantalising. Moriarty returned, but Sherlock didn't care.
In two hours Lissie would be with her mother.