Warning: Hints of torture.
A month and a half. It had been a whole month and a half since Sam had returned from being with the two detectives and Bobbie was worried. She hadn't been acting like herself. She was a lot quieter than normal and when she did speak, it was as though nothing was worth enjoying anymore. Though she kind of sounded like that before, but this is a bit much. She hadn't told Bobbie why she came back either and whenever he asked about it, she'd always sigh and just tell him…
"It was nothing. I just screwed up."
Now, he wasn't one for leaving people alone. He had often seen Sam in his psychology class sitting by herself and he always had this feeling that he should go speak with her. Personally, he was a social butterfly. He made friends easily enough and people seemed to gravitate towards him anyway. He was just a very cheerful, outgoing guy. There was just something different about Sam that made him curious.
She was diligent in her studies and usually marked pretty high on tests and such, getting top scores on most of them. Yet, no one really paid her any attention. It was like she was made out of thin air and she seemed to like it that way. She never rose her hand or asked questions, though he'd see her stay after class on occasion to ask the professor something, and she seemed altogether lonely. He once asked the people in the class if they knew her and none of them could really say anything. To him, that was the worst way to live so, he decided to take a chance.
"Ah! You have gum? Can I have a piece?"
After that, he became determined to hang around her, even going as far as to leave his other friends to speak with her. He knew that it bothered her a bit, but when she actually talked to him—asking him about the detectives—he felt glad knowing that he'd at least connected to her there. And that feeling only grew when she told him about what had happened with the case she was working on. But now, he was concerned.
She wouldn't tell him anything and he noticed that whenever they had a break, she'd be sitting with a cigarette and trying to write in her notebook only to rip out the page and pull a hand through her hair. He knew that she didn't want to be here. Well, she did, but she wanted to be with those detectives more. Not only that, but schedules had been really tight lately with the bombings going off. Sam had gotten really pale too, when they first got word of it and he knew something was up, and that it had something to do with those detective. So, he came up with a plan. A plan that, if it turned out right, could give Sam a chance to get back with them.
"See, Sam? Aren't we lucky? The professor gave us the whole day off because he caught a silly old cold!" Bobbie grinned. "We got to do all sorts of stuff!"
"Uh-huh." Sam muttered, hands stuffed in her pockets as her eyes lazily scanned the streets around her.
"Neh, neh, Sam? Let's go to this neat looking sandwich place I saw the other day! I promise it's super good!"
Sam shrugged. "If you want to."
"Awesome!" Bobbie smiled and took a hold of Sam's hand and hurried down the sidewalk, expecting her to complain, but she just allowed herself to be dragged around silently.
After a moment, they were nearly there and he could tell that Sam was getting suspicious.
"Bobbie, where are we going?"
"The sandwich place I told you about!" He replied, a bit giddy about what he was doing. "It's a really neat little place right by a bunch of flats and it's really cozy and the sandwiches are pretty good too! Trust me, you'll love it!"
Not to mention the fact that it's right under the place where the detectives live, but I won't tell her that until we get there. She'll be thrilled! And maybe we could go convince them to let her help them again! Oh man, it's a good thing I looked up that guy's blog the other day and got his address. Bobbie's grin continued to grow as they hurried down the street, before he was forced to stop, Sam having realized what was going on.
"Bobbie, what are you doing?" She said with a frown.
Bobbie gave her an innocent look. "What are you talking about, Sam? I'm taking you to that sandwich place for lunch. Didn't you hear me?"
Her frown grew. "You're talking about Speedy's, aren't you?"
"How'd you know?!" He said, faking astonishment.
Sam tried to pull away from him. "Well, I'm not interested, Bobbie. Let's go back. The professor said we needed to be back before 9 and with the bombs going off, it'd be better if we went back."
"No way!" He said, tugging her the other way, back towards the little shop. "We finally got a chance to explore and enjoy some great food!"
"I said, no, Bobbie!" She half-shouted, warily eyeing the people who turned to give them frowns at how loud they were being.
Bobbie just continued to tug her along. "Come on, Sam! You'll really like it!"
They both stopped right outside of the restaurant, Sam finally getting her hand free as she yanked it out of his grip.
"Sam?"
"I know what you're trying to do, Bobbie." She said, appearing to be stuck between being angry and being almost… scared. "Bringing me back here isn't going to change anything! I-I screwed up! I can't go back!"
Bobbie held out his hands, worried at how she was acting. I haven't seen her like this before. These detective guys, they… they're really important to her…
"How do you know before you try, Sam? They might want you back too!"
"You don't understand, Bobbie!" She said back loudly. "I can't! They want answers that I can't give them! I got kidnapped! I got someone killed! They're better off leaving me!"
Bobbie frowned suddenly, something Sam didn't expect, and he grabbed her by the shoulders and stared back at her seriously. "That's not true and you know it! They picked you, because you could help them! They wanted you! So what if you got kidnapped?! Like you could fight off some assassin or whatever on your own?! Same with that person getting killed! You can't do everything on your own, Sam! Give them a chance to help you! You need them just as much as they need you! You're not alone anymore, okay?!"
Sam opened and closed her mouth like a gaping fish, before something seemed to have caught her eye behind Bobbie. Her eyes widened and just as Bobbie went to ask what was wrong, she bolted down the street.
"Sam!"
She didn't stop though, just running off and when Bobbie went to look at whatever she'd seen, he was surprised to see the tall, curly haired detective looking down from the window of the flat above him in slight surprise. The man turned and disappeared and Bobbie groaned, pulling a hand through his hair before dashing down the street after Sam.
"Sam! Wait!"
I really screwed up this time...
It was late. I knew that. I should probably be back at the dorms by now, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Bobbie was there and I knew that the moment I went back, he'd start asking questions and the professor would scold me for not being back by curfew and I just didn't want to deal with all of that right now. I just wanted to take a walk, smoke, maybe grab a bite to eat, and pretend that Bobbie hadn't tried to drag me to Sherlock's flat in some stupid scheme to get me working with them again. I pinched the bridge of my nose with a wince, a headache having flared up as my emotions ran rampant in my head. I was doing my best to shove them back into that little box in the back of my mind, but it was getting harder and harder to do so. Especially since I heard about that bombing on Baker Street.
I wasn't stupid. I knew that that meant. It meant Moriarty had shown up and was teasing Sherlock by sticking him in that game of his. It probably won't be long until they're facing each other off at the pool where Carl Powers died. I mused, before quickly scolding myself for even thinking about it as I dug through my pockets for a cigarette and put my headphones up over my ears with the volume up as I listened to Breaking Benjamin. Just stop thinking about it, Sam. You screwed up and they sent you back. You knew it was going to happen eventually and it did. You shouldn't of gotten attached. You know better. My throat got tight and I cursed quietly as I stuck a cigarette between my lips and tried to light it. Not even the nicotine was helping though and I grit my teeth around the filter as I walked with my hands tucked deep in my pockets. You wouldn't be any help to them anyway. Knowing you, you'd get caught by Moriarty when he played Jim from I.T. and get kidnapped again. If not killed.
I sighed, trying to calm my temper as I considered dropping by a bar and getting a drink; since I was already breaking the rules by staying out past curfew anyway. I checked my phone though and winced at the number of calls I'd gotten from Bobbie, but as he called again, I hit 'ignore' and began searching for a bar. Just as I spotted one though, a loud boom echoed through the air and I was knocked to the ground as debris flew around the street. People nearby screamed as car alarms went off and dust scattered across the area, shading the view of the disaster and I struggled to get up; something having hit me hard across the head. My vision spun and I couldn't move as someone blocked my view of the street and knelt down. Their voice was familiar though. Deadly familiar.
"Oh, look what I found.~ Who would've thought I'd find you here?"
I let out a weak whimper as I tried to move, but the person stopped me.
"Sh, sh. It's alright. I'll take good care of you. After all..." He leaned over and gave me a good look at his smirking face. "...you're a friend of Sherlock's right?"
N-No... It's can't be... Anyone but him... Please... I mentally begged just before I fell unconscious, leaving me in the hands of none other than Moriarty.
Sherlock frowned, arguing with John as a news report on a bomb going off in a block of flats went on in the background.
"There are lives at stake, Sherlock. Actual human lives. Just... Just so I know, do you care about that at all?" John asked angrily.
"Will caring about them help save them?" Sherlock snapped back, hands steepled in front of him.
"Nope."
"Then I'll continue not to make that mistake."
"And you find that easy, do you?"
"Yes, very." Sherlock argued, furrowing his brows. "Is that news to you?"
"No." John shook his head with a bitter smile. "No."
Sherlock eyed him, catching sight of something that annoyed the detective. "I've disappointed you."
"That's good. That's a good deduction, yeah."
"Don't make people into heroes, John. Heroes don't exist and if they did, I wouldn't be one of them."
"Is that why you sent Sam back to the dorms?"
Sherlock's head snapped up, having turned to glance at the pink phone to see if he'd gotten anything from the bomber. "What?"
"Sam. You know, our friend? The one who helped on the last case?" John questioned. "You sent her back to the dorms because she wasn't giving you answers. Or, that's what you said."
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Of course that's why I sent her back. You read her little note. She was putting all of us in danger."
"Yeah, including herself." John argued. "I think you sent her back so she wouldn't get hurt or caught up in all this, not because she wouldn't answer some question."
Sherlock scoffed. "Hardly. And she is not my friend."
"Course not." John said sarcastically with his own eye roll. "That's why you began composing the moment she was gone, yeah? Just admit it, Sherlock. You liked having her around."
Sherlock went to argue further, but the phone on the arm of his chair went off and his attention immediately turned to that.
"Excellent!"
He opened the mail and eyed the picture on the screen with a slight smirk.
"View of the Thames. South Bank. Somewhere between Southwark Bridge and Waterloo." He said, before pulling out his own phone to do research, speaking to John. "You check the papers. I'll look online..."
Sherlock glanced up and saw that John had yet to move from his position; bracing himself on the back of his chair while shaking his bowed head.
"Oh, you're angry with me, so you won't help."
John lifted his head and shrugged, saying nothing as he went on.
"Not much help, this caring lark."
John gave in reluctantly and went over to search through the papers. "Archway suicide."
"Ten a penny." Sherlock snapped, wondering silently if Sam would've been a better choice at doing this if she'd been around to do so.
"Two kids stabbed in Stoke Newington." John continued, not even getting a response from Sherlock this time. "Ah, man found on the train line. Andrew West."
Just then, the pink phone went off again and Sherlock's brows furrowed as John lifted his head to see what news they'd gotten. When Sherlock seemed to pale, John grew worried.
"Sherlock?"
Sherlock turned to him, eyes grave. "John, call up Sam's professor. Now."
John gave him an odd look. "What? Why?"
"Just do it!" Sherlock snapped, making John flinch back in shock before nodding and pulling out his phone.
"Ah, yes, Professor Hayes? This is—Hey!" John shouted as Sherlock snatched the phone out of his hands.
"You're Sam's professor, correct? This is Sherlock Holmes, the detective working with Scotland Yard who borrowed her for a time. Can a speak to... ah..." Sherlock tucked the phone to his chest as he looked at John. "What was her classmate's name? The excitable one."
"Um, I think it was Bobbie something." John said, confused as to what was going on as Sherlock nodded and spoke into the phone.
"Bobbie. No, I just need to speak with him."
Sherlock frowned, glaring at thin air and John grew more worried as he saw the muscles in his jaw tighten as he ground his teeth, before Sherlock turned away and spoke quickly into the phone.
"Bobbie, where is Sam? When was the last time you saw her?"
"Sam's missing?!" John exclaimed and Sherlock glared at him briefly before turning back to the phone.
"No, don't tell them. Inform the professor that she's with me. Yes. I will get her back."
Sherlock abruptly hung up the phone and John had had enough of being left out of the group.
"Sherlock, what's going on? Is Sam missing?"
Sherlock shook his head. "Quite the opposite, in fact. I know exactly where she is."
"Where?!"
Sherlock passed John his phone and as John looked at it, his heart sank.
"With the bomber." Sherlock grumbled as John gaped at the picture of an unconscious Sam tied to a chair on Sherlock's screen.
"W-We have to get her back!" John shouted, giving the man back his phone. "Sherlock, we have to—"
"I know John!" Sherlock shouted, making John freeze as he dragged a hand down his face. "The only way we can get her back is to find the bomber."
Sherlock began dialing a number on his phone and John blinked out of his stupor.
"Who are you calling?"
"Lestrade. We need to figure out where this picture of the Thames is." Sherlock replied and John swallowed down the frustration towards Sherlock's indifference for now, knowing that he was right.
The only way they were going to have a chance of getting Sam back was to find this guy. And hopefully, Sam would be okay until then.
I woke up slowly, feeling dizzy and nauseous as I clenched my eyes shut and tried to remember what happened. Everything was sort of fuzzy and all I could think of was being angry with someone. The scent of smoke on my clothes told me that I was smoking, but other than that, I couldn't remember anything. Nor could I remember why my head hurt so badly. I went to bring a hand up to my head, but my arm wouldn't move and I begrudgingly opened my eyes, flinching at the light in the room, and followed my arm down to find out that my hands were tied behind my back. W-What? But why... I looked around the room as best I could and felt a chill sweep down my spine at the concrete floor and single light bulb dangling from the ceiling. W-Where... Where am I? How did I get here? Fear trickled into my body as I struggled against my bonds uselessly and tried to figure out where I was and what was going on. I then caught sight of a small flashing red light in front of me and paled at the sight of a video camera on a tripod.
Okay, okay, calm down. Think. What's the last thing I remember? I tried, but all I could think of was being angry. I couldn't even remember who I was angry with! T-That's okay. No problem. Probably because of my head injury. No big deal. I looked around again, but felt tears clogging up my throat in my panic. Oh, who am I kidding?! I've been kidnapped! I'm going to die because no one knows where I am a-and I'll be lucky if Bobbie or someone in class realizes I'm not there, but they'll probably think I'm with Sherlock and Sherlock will think I'm with them and no one will bother looking for me a-and... I sniffed, feeling the tears start to fall as I struggled to rein in my emotions. And this is all my fault. This is what I get f-for screwing up with Sherlock. I-I should've just stayed with the dorm. Hell, I should've just stayed home. All I do is screw things up. I sat there and wallowed in self pity for a while, before the tears finally stopped falling and I'd calmed down enough to actually think and try to figure out what was happening.
I-I've been kidnapped. Okay. But who would want to kidnap me? No one that I know of, s-so maybe someone who saw Sherlock and I together? I winced. I'd almost prefer it if someone I knew kidnapped me. It'd be better than dealing with Moriarty... I then looked around, searching for something that would tell me where I was. No windows and a cement floor means a basement of some kind, but that's about all I can figure out. I sniffed again, feeling that sense of hopelessness starting to come back, but I quickly squashed it down and focused on my predicament. A-And I'm tied to a chair. I twisted my wrists a bit, cringing at the rope chaffing and the fact that my hands were going numb. Too tight to wiggle out of, seeing as it's cutting off my blood supply. Which leaves me with nothing. I-I'm trapped. Stuck here waiting for someone to talk to me and tell me what's going on.
"U-Um, hello?" I called out, lifting my head with a sniff as I looked at the video camera. "C-Could someone tell me what's going on? I-I, um..." I clenched my eyes shut for a second, trying to think. "I don't even remember what h-happened, so some clarity might be... nice?... Um... please?"
What am I thinking? Being so polite to my kidnappers? I lowered my head with a sigh. Like they'll just come in here and tell me since I asked nicely. God, I'm stupid. Or so I said, but I heard a quite beep and looked up to see the door behind the camera open as a familiar voice spoke.
"Well, since you asked so nicely.~"
All the blood drained from my face upon seeing Moriarty himself walk into the room, wearing his usual Westwood suit and a large smirk on his face.
"How's your head?"
I jumped at the question and quickly tried to get out a response and act the innocent bystander, who knew nothing about Moriarty and his vast web of criminal connections.
"U-Um, i-i-it hurts. What happened? Why am I here?"
"Oh, nothing much. Though I should apologize. The bombing was sort of my fault." He grinned and my brows furrowed as I tried to remember what happened.
That's right... There was an explosion and something hit me, but that doesn't explain... oh no... Bobbie. I was angry with Bobbie for trying to take me to Sherlock's and I ran. God...
"Ah, you seemed to have remembered."
I nodded slowly. "W-Why am I here?" I asked, cautiously.
He raised a brow. "You don't want to know who I am?"
I internally winced, scolding myself as I tried to come up with some excuse. "I-I-I didn't think you'd tell me? Kidnappers don't usually socialize with their victims u-unless it's personal."
"Oh, you are intelligent, aren't you?" He smirked, coming over to stand right in front of me and leaning down slightly to come face-to-face. "I can see why Sherlock likes you."
"T-This is because of him? Cause he, um... he doesn't really like me much. I-I screwed up the last time a-and he sent me back to my dorm. I-I'm only here for school." I stuttered out, feeling that bit of hurt rear its ugly head at my words.
"Oh, he hurt you, didn't he?" Moriarty asked, brushing a hand alongside my face that I immediately turned away from. "Well, that's alright. He is quite the heart breaker after all. Oh! I know!" He grinned suddenly, stepping away from me and doing a little twirl back around to face me. "You can help me! We can get revenge on him together! How's that sound?"
I gave him a disbelieving look. "Y-You want me to help you? What could I do?"
He just continued to smile, though it felt more like a predatory smirk to me. "All sorts of things. Sherlock trusts you, after all. I could cut you loose right now and you could go back to him. Then all you'd have to do is bring him right back to me and we could tear him down together."
"Why?" I asked, making him give me a confused look. "Why should I trust you to do that? You kidnapped me and could kill me after. And just because Sherlock kicked me off cases with him doesn't mean I'm willing to give him up to some crazy stalker criminal."
"That's harsh, Sammy." He said, putting a hand over his heart in mock hurt and making me stiffen upon him already knowing my name. "I didn't have to help you, you know. I could've left you on the curb and you might've just been buried by debris. And what reason would I have for killing you? I'm not so cliché as to do so just because you saw my face or because you said no of all things. Though there are other ways to convince you."
I swallowed thickly at his threat, but grit my teeth as I tried to keep calm and pretend that I was just arguing with Mycroft or someone less likely to kill me.
"You wouldn't do that." I said, more confidently than I felt.
"Oh?" He sauntered closer, a devilish smirk on his face. "And what makes you say that?"
"Because. You don't get your hands dirty. You take a backseat to everything so no one can trace anything back to you. You won't get anything out of torturing me or whatever. You can always go get someone else to do this. I'm not some stupid kid. A threat with no motivation to back it up is just words."
I flinched when he grabbed my hair and yanked my head back to look up at him.
"Oh-ho! A different side to my little Sammy. Isn't that interesting?" He teased, yanking a little harder when I tried to lower my head back. "You're definitely not some kid, Sammy, and I think we could get along really well if you do this little task for me."
"Like I'd work for you." I scoffed, wincing again as his smile became sickeningly sweet.
"Oh, but Sammy, Sammy! Think about it. You could prove it to him. To Sherlock. Prove that you could be better than him. That you're smart and clever just like he is. He'll have to respect you when you trick him into coming to me. Isn't that what you want? Just a little recognition from your idol?" He breathed down my neck, sending shivers down my spine in slight fear.
"I-I don't need your help." I snapped at him. "If I can't get recognition from him, then I don't deserve it."
Or so I said, but a part of me wanted to take Moriarty's offer. I did want Sherlock's recognition. Desperately. I wanted to prove to him and everyone else that I wasn't just some kid. That I could be intelligent and could stand up and prove myself to everyone. And Moriarty's offer was definitely tempting. I could see how he was able to easily manipulate people into doing his bidding. He knew exactly what to look for. He'd find the triggers and pressure points of people and then twist his words around into thinking that what he had was better than anything. Make you doubt your own actions and turn to his side to get what you've always wanted. And I was disgusted with myself for even considering it, knowing that all he did in the end was betray those close to him and set them up for failure or life on the run. And I didn't want that. I wanted to prove to Sherlock myself that I could be better than this. And as Moriarty pulled away, I knew he saw the stiffened resolve in my eyes that said I would never take his offer and his smile slipped as his eyes turned cold.
"This is the only offer you're going to receive from me, Sammy. I'll give you some time to think about it."
He got up and left the room and I let out a shaky sigh of relief once he did, feeling my body quiver in fear at the man I'd just faced. And will have to face again, no doubt. God, what am I going to do? Sherlock... please help me...
Sherlock was beginning to grow more and more frustrated. After dealing with the Golem, only for him to escape, he'd hoped to go back to Baker Street and play the violin to relax before he would head to the museum to confront the woman trying to pass off the Veneer as real. But the moment he'd begun to play, all he could think about was Sam. They'd yet to get any leads on her or the bomber and, despite what Sherlock had told John earlier, he did like the young college student. He could see her potential and actually enjoyed the time she spent with them on their cases. She was far better than his skull and even pushed past John a little because she would bounce theories back. Sure, John would attempt to do so as well, but it was nice to have someone on near equal footing to talk to.
Sherlock frowned, lowering his violin momentarily. Since when did I consider her to be anywhere close to equal footing with me? And a friend at that? He couldn't help but think this, his normal sociopathic behaviors trying to argue against what his emotions were telling him, but one side was winning. He truly did consider her a friend, despite whatever it was she was hiding. Sherlock groaned and got up, moving to his desk and digging through the drawers before he found the note Sam had left when he'd kicked her out, skimming over it as he tried to figure out what it was she was hiding. Obviously dangerous information. Dangerous not only for her, but for John and myself as well, though I don't know how she could have come about this information. Much less what it could be. And there isn't much my brother doesn't know, so she must be someone of extreme importance or extreme danger to be able to know something and get it past my brother without so much as a peep. He shoved the letter back into the drawer and slammed it closed before returning to his chair and steepling his hands in front of his chin as he entered his mind palace for some sense of peace. Everywhere he looked though, laid memories of Sam.
"Have you decided?"
I flinched, sitting up and blinking the exhaustion from my eyes as I faced Moriarty.
"Yeah."
"Then you'll join me?" He asked, a smirk on his face.
"No way in hell." I snapped at him, too tired of all of this to even care anymore. "Sherlock's my friend, whether he considers me one or not, and I'm not going to sell him out to some lunatic like you."
"Bad choice, Sammy." He said, all smiles gone as he approached and harshly grabbed my jaw. "Because I don't take 'no' for an answer."
"Shame, because like I told that Chinese assassin you hired, I find that threatening me doesn't really work."
I didn't think he could become more frightening than he already was—because internally I was shaking like mad and mentally smacking myself for egging him on—but he proved me wrong and the grip he had on my jaw tightened.
"How did you know that?" He snarled and I cringed at the pressure that made it feel like my jaw was going to break.
"W-What?" I questioned, having no idea what he was talking about.
"The assassin." He hissed out, shaking me and making me cringe. "How did you know I hired her?"
I mentally cursed my slip up and immediately played stupid.
"I-I have no idea what you're talking about! I guessed, okay?! You're Sherlock's enemy, who else would've hired them?!"
"I don't believe you." He snarled, before suddenly smiling. "So let's play a game.~"
He moved away, heading for the door, but paused in the doorway to turn back at me with that sickeningly sweet smile.
"I'll give you ten minutes to tell me, before the game begins and I turn to other means. Bye Sammy.~"
He left and I paled, immediately returning to my panicked state as I realized what I'd done. W-What did I just do?! Me and my big mouth, I just had to go and say something that gave me away! My God, he's going to torture me a-and I don't know how long I can hold out. I-I'm just a kid! I don't care if I'm 21, I'm going to be tortured into giving up the fact that I have foreknowledge a-and Sherlock and John will be in trouble, all because I said I wouldn't help Moriarty. I-I should've just lied. This is... This is just like my nightmare... I felt tears clog up my throat and I sniffed as I bowed my head. I-I don't want to die...
A few moments later, and Moriarty returned with another larger man behind him. Probably Sebastian, if I had to guess... My mind idly supplied as I stared blankly at the floor, my mind and body having given up before the torture even started. I wasn't giving in though. I vowed not to say a word about what I knew or anything else that could get Sherlock or John hurt. And, if it came down to it, I'd die with my secrets. That was a big decision for me to make and I spent every second of the ten minutes Moriarty left me trying to find an alternative, but that was the ultimate ending to all of this. I knew Moriarty wouldn't hold out on me forever and once he grew bored it'd be the end of me anyway, so I'd given up. The only bit of hope I had, was that I'd live long enough to apologize to Sherlock and John for being a bother to them and actually thank Bobbie for being there when I had no one else.
"Are you ready to talk?" Moriarty asked, though my eyes trailed over to Sebastian as he brought in a trough full of water.
"I can't tell you anything." I muttered, lifting my gaze to Moriarty's cold one. "And even if I could, I wouldn't give out Sherlock like that."
My eyes trailed back down to the floor as Moriarty nodded to Sebastian and my chair was dragged over to the water trough before it was tipped and I plunged head-first into the icy water. After a minute or so, my lungs burned for air and the chair was tipped back out of the water, leaving me gasping and choking as Moriarty spoke again.
"Wrong answer, Sammy.~ Now let's try that again." He leaned close and snarled at me. "Tell me what you know."
"No." I croaked back and I was dunked again.
And every time after that, I'd say the same thing. No, I wouldn't tell him. No, I wouldn't give out Sherlock. No, no, no, no, no. And, after a while, I began to question why I wasn't giving in. It'd be easier. As Moriarty told me, I'd live a decent life with him looking out for me. It'd be better than dying for someone who didn't even like me. His words grew more and more enticing, but my resolve held and I continued to numbly say no until I couldn't even speak and even then, I shook my head. I wouldn't do it, no matter what. And even I was surprised at how I continued to stick to that answer even when Sebastian hit me and knocked me around for a change of pace. Even Moriarty seemed to grow annoyed and actually brought in a cattle prod when I spat in his face. It wasn't pleasant. And even when they walked out to 'deal with something that came up', I could still feel them torturing me.
I could feel myself being dunked back in the water again, feel the electricity zapping through my body, hear Moriarty asking me the same question over and over again. And I still muttered a quiet no under my breath. They weren't even in the room and I was still saying nothing but that simple word. Sebastian came back though, and tried again, leaving Moriarty to other more important things, I was guessing. And it wasn't until Moriarty returned that things changed and he lifted my bruised face to meet his.
"Lucky you, Sammy, we're going to see your friends for a change of scenery. I'm sure they'll love to see you, especially after I show them how you betrayed them."
I furrowed my brows in confusion, forcing myself to speak. "W-What... I-I didn't..."
"Oh yes, but they'll hardly believe that." He smirked. "After all, it's the word of some kid against mine. Who do you think they'll listen to, hm?"
I couldn't argue with him. He had a point. If he was able to easily manipulate people to his own will, then who's to say that Sherlock and John would believe me. Sherlock already knew I was keeping secrets and even though he didn't know what they were, it wasn't a hard leap to assume that I was on Moriarty's team this whole time.
Sebastian soon got me out of the chair after Moriarty had left to go on ahead, and had to practically drag me out to the car once he'd blindfolded, gagged and handcuffed me. I was stuffed into the trunk of a car and driven somewhere, too exhausted to do much more than lay there and cry as I prayed that Sherlock wouldn't believe whatever lies Moriarty was going to tell him. Once I was yanked out of the car, I was brought to the pool where Moriarty would have his showdown with Sherlock—the smell of chlorine being a dead giveaway as to where we were. Sebastian then took off the blindfold and gag, only to start putting cover-up on the dark bruises on my face and Moriarty explained for me before I could question the sniper's sudden taste for woman's makeup.
"Have to have you looking your best for when I explain to Sherlock what you've done. He wouldn't rightly believe me if you had bruises on your face." He hummed, adjusting his suit in the old mirror of the locker room.
I couldn't say much back with Sebastian gripping my jaw tightly and still applying the makeup, before I was gagged again and forced to sit on the floor at Moriarty's feet. Sebastian soon left and I was stuck with the humming man before me as he checked himself out in a mirror and I struggled not to slip to sleep with how exhausted I was. I was abruptly woken though when a familiar voice echoed through the building.
"Brought you a little getting-to-know-you present. Oh, that's what it's all been for, isn't it? All your little puzzles, making me dance. All to distract me from this."
Moriarty snickered from beside me. "Thinks he's so clever, doesn't he?"
It was then that I heard a stall door open and assumed that John had made his fated appearance, as Moriarty spoke into a phone telling him what to say.
"Evening... This is a turn-up, isn't it, Sherlock."
"John. What the hell..."
"Bet you never saw this coming." Moriarty smirked. "Now open the jacket John."
There was a pause before he spoke again.
"What would you like me to make him say next?" Moriarty hummed, dragging out the sentence to add tension to the room. "Gottle o' geer. Gottle o' geer. Gottle o' geer."
"Stop it." Sherlock snapped and Moriarty smirked devilishly, loving what he was doing.
"Nice touch this. The pool where little Carl died. I stopped him. I can stop John Watson too. Stop his heart."
I cursed Moriarty loudly through my gag, but he simply kicked me harshly in the stomach and leaned down to my level as he held the phone to his chest.
"Now, now, Sammy. It'll be your turn soon enough, so stay quiet." He hissed out the last bit, sending ice through my veins. "And you won't say a word to go against me or I'll kill the both of them."
"Who are you?!" Sherlock snapped out once more, as Moriarty took out my gag.
"Up you go, Sammy. It's showtime." He grinned, yanking me up to my feet and tugged me along after him; pausing just outside the door behind a pillar. "I gave you my number. I thought you might call."
He tugged me out after him and I barely caught sight of Sherlock's hard gaze before I lowered my eyes and Moriarty moved me closer as the two of us walked around the edge of the pool.
"Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket... or are you just pleased to see me?"
"Both." Sherlock said calmly, raising the gun he'd pulled from his pocket to aim at Moriarty.
Moriarty hardly seemed bothered. "Jim Moriarty... Hi~"
In fact, he seemed more bothered by the fact that Sherlock didn't seem to recognize him.
"Jim? Jim from the hospital?"
Sherlock simply leveled his gun and I felt unease stirring violently in my stomach.
"Oh... Did I really make such a fleeting impression? But then, I suppose, that was rather the point."
Sherlock glanced over at John and Moriarty quickly drew his attention back to him.
"Don't be silly. Someone else is holding the rifle. I don't like getting my hands dirty. Although, Sammy here, she's a very dirty girl."
I grimaced as he pushed me in front of him and onto my knees near the edge of the pool, the water nearby making my stomach churn as I remembered what I'd just gone through.
"I've given you a glimpse, Sherlock. Just a teensy glimpse of what I've got going out there in the big bad world. I'm a specialist... you see. Like you."
"'Dear Jim. Please will you fix it for me to get rid of my lover's nasty sister'?" Sherlock quoted. "'Dear Jim. Please will you fix it for me to disappear to South America'?"
I was grabbed again and pulled even closer to Sherlock and John.
"Just so." Jim hummed.
"Consulting criminal. Brilliant." Sherlock complimented and Jim smiled.
"Isn't it? No one ever gets to me and no one ever will."
"I did." Sherlock said, cocking the pistol.
"You've come the closest. Now you're in my way."
"Thank you."
"Didn't mean it as a compliment."
"Yes you did."
"Yeah, okay. I did." Jim said with a shrug. "But the flirting's over, Sherlock. Daddy's had enough now~"
We moved even closer.
"I've shown you what I can do. I cut loose all those people, all those little problems, even thirty million quid just to get you to come out and play. So take this as a friendly warning... my dear. Back off." Jim smiled then, moving closer again. "Although, I have loved this... this little game of ours. Playing Jim from I.T. Playing gay. Did you like the little touch with the underwear?"
"People have died."
"That's what people do!" Jim shouted, making me flinch and clench my eyes shut as I flashed back to him yelling at me for answers. "Oh look. You've made me frighten little Sammy." He hummed, all previous anger gone as he brushed a hand over my cheek, making me shift uneasily as Sherlock glared.
"I will stop you."
"No you won't." Jim said, shaking his head.
Sherlock then turned to John. "You alright?"
Jim smiled and pushed me down to my knees beside the pool, making me cringe as my knees hit the hard floor and he sauntered over to John.
"You can talk, Johnny-boy. Go ahead."
John said nothing and Sherlock glanced at me, but I couldn't even look him in the eye.
"Take it." Sherlock finally said, handing Jim the flashdrive with the missile plans.
"Huh? Oh, that. The missile plans." Jim took it from him and kissed it before tossing it into the pool. "Boring.~ I could've got them anywhere."
John suddenly rushed up and grabbed Jim in a choke hold, though the man just chuckled.
"Sherlock, run!"
"Oh, ho, ho! Good! Very good."
"If your sniper pulls that trigger, Mr. Moriarty, then we both go up." John threatened, looking over at me then. "Sam, get up. Go stand by Sherlock."
I swallowed thickly, not moving and knowing what was going to happen as Jim snickered.
"Isn't he sweet? I can see why you like having him around though Sammy there is a completely different. More so than you think. But then people do get so sentimental about their pets. They're so touchingly loyal, but oops! You've rather shown your hand there, Doctor Watson."
I spotted the red dot that appeared on Sherlock's head and silently lowered my head as John let Jim go with his hands up; Jim patting down his suit.
"Gotcha~ Westwood." He then went on. "Do you know what happens if you don't leave me alone, Sherlock, to you?"
"Oh, let me guess, I get killed." Sherlock drawled out.
"Kill you?" Jim grimaced. "Mm, no. Don't be obvious. I mean, I'm gonna kill you anyway some day. I don't wanna rush it though. I'm saving it up for something special. No, no, no, no, no. If you don't stop prying... I'll burn you... I'll burn the heart out of you."
"I have been reliably informed that I don't have one." Sherlock said quietly and Jim grinned.
"But we both know that's not quite true. Sammy here is proof of that. Shame she's on my side though."
Sherlock frowned, glancing between the two of us in confusion and Jim grinned.
"That's right, Sherlock. She works for me. Surly you noticed? She's been keeping secrets, dark secrets." He said smoothly, and already I could see Sherlock growing doubtful of my intentions. "The only reason she's here is because you kicked her out. She screwed up and I thought you'd like to get one last look at the woman who betrayed you."
"Sam?" Sherlock breathed out and I slowly lowered my gaze to the floor, having no choice but to stay silent and allow Sherlock to believe what he will, because if I didn't, he'd be killed and I'd rather him hate me than have to die.
"Oh, see? That proves it." Jim snickered, before turning away. "Well, I'd better be off."
He moved towards me and yanked me up to my feet, making me cringe in pain, before he turned back to Sherlock.
"Well, so nice to have had a proper chat."
"What if I was to shoot you now. Right now." Sherlock threatened, pistol aimed firmly at Jim.
"Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face." Jim said, making an exaggerated shocked expression. "Cause I'd be surprised, Sherlock. Really I would. And just a teensy bit... disappointed... And of course, you wouldn't be able to cherish it for very long."
He tugged me along and I gave Sherlock one last look over my shoulder, begging him to believe that I had nothing to do with this, but he took one look at me and frowned as Jim sang over his shoulder.
"Ciao, Sherlock Holmes."
"Catch you... later."
"No you won't!" Jim called back as we exited the building and said man grinned, looking like a kid in a candy store whereas I felt anything but.
Sherlock kept his gun trained on the door Jim walked out of with Sam, before turning to John and scrambling to get the bomb jacket off him.
"Alright?" He asked him, but John just tipped his head back and let out a long sigh of relief.
"Are you alright?" Sherlock repeated, and John finally nodded.
"Yeah. Yeah. I'm fine."
Sherlock struggled to get the jacket off, but finally managed to do so and tossed it over to the other end of the pool. Breathing heavily, John tried to deal with the shock of what he'd just gone through and Sherlock rushed to make sure Jim left as John stumbled and sank to the floor, trying to calm himself down as Sherlock returned; scratching his head with the pistol.
"Are you okay?" John asked him and Sherlock began pacing as his mind ran a million miles a second.
"Me? Yeah, I'm fine. I'm fine. Fine." Sherlock then waved his gun around towards him. "That, uh... Thing that you, uh, that you did, that you, um..." He cleared his throat. "You offered to do, that was, um... good."
"I'm glad no one saw that." John muttered, making Sherlock look at him in confusion.
"Hm?"
"You ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People might talk and Sam would have a field... day..." John's brows furrowed and he turned to Sherlock, who had begun to furrow his brows as well. "Was he, um... Was Moriarty telling the truth? About her?"
"I don't know." Sherlock grumbled, John seeing the signs of his frustration growing. "I don't know."
John tried to think then, going over what Moriarty said and what he'd seen of Sam. "He could be lying, Sherlock. I mean, he's a criminal, right? And Sam, she's... she's our friend."
"But she's keeping secrets, John." Sherlock snapped. "Who's to say that this wasn't her secret? Hm? She's knows things she shouldn't and what other explanation is there? She's obviously not who we thought she was."
John shook his head, still conflicted. "I don't know, Sherlock. I still think we should give her a chance..." He glanced over to the door that Jim had taken Sam through. "...if we get that chance..."
"We will." Sherlock said suddenly, surprising John. "I told Bobbie I would bring her back and I will. Whether it's to continue working with us or spend her time in prison, however, is up to her."
John nodded, seeing Sherlock's reasoning, and began to push himself up only to spot a number of red dots lining themselves up with his chest; making him mentally panic.
"Oh..."
"Sorry boys! I'm so changeable!" Jim called out, dragging Sam back into the room as he chuckled. "It is a weakness with me, but to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness."
There was a grunt as Sam was shoved harshly down onto the ground and John caught sight of her before she turned her gaze away from him shamefully. Jim though, was done playing games.
"You can't be allowed to continue. You just can't. I would try to convince you but..." He chuckled once more and sang, "...everything I have to say has already crossed your mind~"
Sam pushed herself up onto her knees with a grimace and Sherlock turned to face them with his gun at the ready; aimed at the bomb jacket on the ground not far from her and Jim.
"Probably my answer has crossed yours."
There was a tense moment of silence as everyone waited for him to pull the trigger, but the silence was broken when 'Stayin' Alive' by the Bee Gees' began to echo through the room. Sherlock and John looked around in confusion, but Jim let out a soft sigh, making Sherlock frown.
"Do you mind if I get that?" Jim asked and Sherlock waved his pistol nonchalantly.
"No, no. Please. You've got the rest of your life."
Jim pulled out his phone and answered it. "Hello? Yes, of course it is. What do you want?"
Jim mouthed that he was 'sorry' and Sherlock answered silently with 'oh, it's fine' just before Jim shouted venomously.
"Say that again!" He then lowered his voice, hardly taking notice of Sam flinching. "Say that again and know that if you're lying to me, I will find you and I will skin you."
Sherlock and John exchanged brief glances and Jim turned his gaze to them as he spoke into the phone.
"Wait." He put the person on hold and then moved up to where he'd thrown Sam, making Sherlock check his aim in nervous anticipation.
"Sorry." Jim said, lifting his gaze from the bomb jacket to Sherlock. "Wrong day to die."
"Oh." Sherlock said calmly. "Did you get a better offer?"
Jim didn't comment on that and turned to leave. "You'll be hearing from me, Sherlock. Possibly you too, Sammy."
Sam stiffened as Jim knelt down to her level with a grin and pat her face.
"Sorry we can't play anymore. I've got bigger things to deal with today."
He got up then and lifting his phone back to his ear as he walked around the side of the pool.
"So, if you have what you say you have, I will make you rich. If you don't, I'll make you into shoes."
Jim snapped his fingers and the sniper dots disappeared, but just before the door closed, he called out one last time.
"Have a nice swim!"
Sherlock frowned in confusion and looked to John who looked to Sam and his eyes widened.
"Sam!"
Sam looked down to see a red dot on her chest and looked back up with sorrowful eyes towards Sherlock just as a gunshot rang out and she fell backwards into the pool.