Cuntbag
The punch made the world a bit dark but John never truly passed out. Her body was tossed up and over Glenn's shoulder as he grabbed a squealing Tim by the arm.
John felt herself drop like a sack of dirty laundry onto a wooden floor but could not place which room the ceiling belonged to.
"Oh Johnny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling!" Moriarty sang her way into John's consciousness, appearing just above her blurry vision in a perfectly pressed suit.
"D'you ever sleep?" John slurred. "Vampire, you are."
"I could you ask you the same thing, darling," Moriarty smirked. She reached out with both hands and cupped John's face. "Oh, Glenn, you hit her too hard. She'll have a bruise. What will Sherly do if your face isn't symmetrical? We can't have that. I'll have to hit you on the other side to match."
"Cunt-" John hissed and coughed, "-bag."
"Been speaking with little Tim-Tim, have you? Those video games really gave him a rotten mouth." Moriarty spun to where Tim stood quivering. "I'll be taking those back, I think."
"You can't!" Tim squealed. "I only just got those!"
"WOULD YOU RATHER I CUT OUT YOUR TONGUE?!" Moriarty shook her head, as if tossing away her sudden rage. "Insolent child. I'll be having a talk with your mother about this."
Tim gulped. "Don't hurt her."
"Glenn, be a dear and take the boy to his room. I think a day or two without food will remind him not to talk to strangers."
Glenn nodded as Tim looked horrified at all of them. When Glenn took Tim by the arm in a painful grasp, Tim looked over at John and mumbled, "Thanks a lot."
John tossed her head down to the floor and sighed. "He's just a boy. Don't you have any maternal instinct?"
"Is that what you need?" Moriarty cooed, leaned over and took John's face back in her hands. She lifted her head into her lap and pet at her escaping bangs. "Do you need daddy to care for you?"
John tried to lean away from the touch but her dizzy head made it hard to do much, especially with Moriarity pressing on her forehead.
"Gabby Miller's alive," John mumbled.
Moriarty giggled. "Are you always so astute? It's rather adorable. Or annoying. Can't tell yet."
"Where is she?"
Moriarty poked John's nose with her finger. "BOOP! Wrong question."
"Alright. Why is she still alive?"
Moriarty sighed and scraped her nail up John's nose, nearly drawing blood with the scratch, pressing hard into her freshly forming bruised temple. "Annoying, definitely."
"If you're not going to answer any of my questions, then I'm going to bed." John's head rolled and she glared at her chest. "I'm dressed for it."
Moriarty tisked. "No, I don't think so." She sang, "You broke the rules. You tried to escape when I had been treating you so nicely. That requires punishment. Does Sherlock not punish you properly? What does she do when you're being a bad girl?"
John grit her teeth. "She makes me run laps outside."
Moriarty sighed and slapped her hand against her cheek and tossed her head into the ground. She popped back up with a clip of her heels and brushed her hands of any residual John. "I don't understand why she keeps you around."
John groaned and pressed her forehead into the cool ground, running through her breathing exercises for pain. She told Tim the truth. Training had not been for nothing.
Through her pants, John grit out, "I like the puzzles." She chuckled against the wood. "Do you like puzzles?"
Moriarty glared, unimpressed.
"Do a lot in your spare time? Childhood maybe? As much as I would love to believe you were hatched out of some egg, I know you had some kind of family. You ever have family game night? Operation? Take out the organs from an unwilling donor and try to put them all back in proper?"
Moriarty ignored her and stretched her body around, slithering towards the window where she bathed herself in the moonlight. "Speaking of family. How is your sister? She still attending her meetings? I prefer her out on the town. She's so much more fun that way."
John yanked herself to a seated position and hissed at the painful vertigo. "Stay away from my sister."
"Oh, I don't know." Moriarty slowly sauntered over. "She's quite fit." She slid a hand over John's shoulders and continued to circle. "Genetics, I suppose. Maybe I'll want to play with her. Game night. Take something out, put something in. Over and over and over."
"Shut. Up."
"Don't be jealous, darling. We can do that too." She dramatically circled herself around and leaned against a table as if preparing herself to be penetrated, thrusting her hips languidly into the air. "Though the last one I played with like that died. You saw him. In a urinal. Tied up and made all pretty."
John looked at the floor, unwilling to watch the thrusting that just added more circles to her lightheadedness. The windows were coming into focus and there was a fireplace nearby. She could use the poker as a weapon. "With cock rings."
Moriarty stopped grinding and giggled. "Yes, that was quite good."
John's hands clutched her aching head but her eyes continued to skate over the small room. It was a study of some sort. There were a few comfortable chairs and a small desk. Somewhere to read books or have a conversation. There were a few pictures along the wall that looked heavy enough to throw with some impact.
"Alright," John sighed. "I have to ask. Why all the cocks?"
Moriarty burst out laughing, her head dropping to the side. When she lifted herself upright, there were tears in the corners of her eyes. She delicately wiped them away, checking to make sure her makeup did not run. "Forgive me. I find myself so amusing at times." She chuckled to herself a few more times. "They all died how they lived."
"Cocks."
"Yes!" Moriarty smiled sweetly. "And what's the point of keeping them alive?" Her face transformed, hatred burning into every crease of leathery skin. "Men. Horrible creatures. Aren't they?"
"So are you."
Moriarty moved faster than John expected and a slap echoed through the room. John held her reddening cheek as Moriarty loomed above her, positively murderous. "I AM NO MAN."
John felt it best to stay quiet until this mood passed. Moriarty was close now, which was good. She could take her out and then grab the closest table, which was really a small stand. Stevie or Glenn or both would run in and she would give it all she had. Maybe steal a gun off one of them.
Moriarty's thunderous expression fell into a smirk. "A long time ago, I promised to throw you around, didn't I pet?"
Moriarty slowly sunk to her knees and framed John's thighs on either side. The closer the better. All John had to wait for was the perfect moment, when she was most distracted.
"Your eyes," Moriarty gasped and pointed at them, her finger coming dangerously close to poking into them. "Dilated. Some may deduce you have a concussion but no. Danger. You live off danger, Johnny boy. Thrive on it. I am the most dangerous woman you will ever meet. The world's only Consulting Criminal and your best friend's archenemy dominating you. Being with me would be the ultimate thrill for you."
Moriarty's hand dove behind John's head and pulled her hair sharply, exposing her bare neck. Her other hand roamed up and down John's arm.
"No one else could do it for you like I could. Sherlock and sex is a ridiculous notion. She'll never be able to give you what I can. You were so good for me earlier, on your hands an knees. I'll have you there again, crying for more, screaming my name. You'll be begging me to let you fuck yourself on my hand." Her hand trailed to John's inner thigh, her cold fingers dipping under the sheet and across her exposed midriff. "I might even let you come. If you're a good little puppy and lick me just how I like." Her hand dipped further down still skirting dangerously close to her center before she ripped her hand back on a chuckle. "No need to skip so far ahead. I can see how much you want it. Let's start with a distraction. I so loved it the first time."
Moriarty's mouth dove for John's slack lips.
This was her chance.
John gave Moriarty what she wanted. She met each ravenous bite with a moan and licked her way inside Moriarty's mouth. She sucked on her tongue and grazed her teeth over every bit of flesh she could reach.
Moriarty hummed her approval and gripped John's arm's fiercely, shoving them behind her back in a bruising grip.
John hissed and stumbled with her weight now behind her but this was not her first time in this position. She angled her neck around and licked at Moriarty's jaw, biting down hard on bone and sucking.
Moriarty groaned.
John tensed her legs, ready to tackle with her body weight- and froze at the sound of two simultaneous clicks.
Moriarty licked once more across her mouth and pulled back with a smile. "I knew you were holding back on me."
John tried to pull her arms to her front but was stopped by the clacking of metal chains and the pull of metal around her wrists. Handcuffs.
Shit.
This changed things.
Moriarty watched her squirm with patient glee. "So much more fun when they struggle." She pulled her arm back and threw all her weight into a punch across John's cheek.
Immediately blood started to pool from her already cracked lip.
Moriarty gripped the bedsheet with both hands and yanked, throwing John's body all the way to the floor once again, her arms trapped behind her back. Moriarty quickly dropped her body onto John's waist and slapped her head hard, throwing John's gaze from one side of the room to the other. Moriarty's hand slipped over cheek, over her scarred shoulder and down to her bra. With one hand she grabbed John's tit and gripped as hard a she could. With the other she grabbed John's neck and squeezed.
John gasped but there was no air. She blinked past the pain and tried to meet Moriarty's gaze, fighting for her legs to move beneath her, but the world was getting dizzy once again.
The smile on Moriarty's face was positively demonic. Her eyes were wide and hungry as she squeezed a little bit harder. The hand on John's chest scratched hard until four lines were carved into the side of John's ribs and slicing down her belly.
"I'll take you apart and put you back together," Moriarty whispered in awe. "Piece by piece."
John's mouth gaped open as her limbs started to lose the fight. Black spots pooled at the corners of her eyes. She tried to call out but no sound was made. She tried again but it was only the barest whisper of, "Jim."
Moriarty took a second longer before she let go abruptly and all the air came crashing back into John's body. Moriarty was still on top of her so it was impossible to be in a comfortable position to suck the air back in. John gasped and coughed and wheezed all under Moriarty's amorous gaze.
"Can't have you pass out now, when we're only getting started," Moriarty said. She dove into her suit jacket and came up with a small blade from some hidden pocket, no larger than four inches.
John eyed it's gleam in the moonlight wearily and coughed again. Madwoman with a knife while half naked in the study was not on the approved list of ways to die.
Moriarty danced the blade back and forth before eyeing John's chest like a blank canvas. "I'll make you so beautiful."
As the blade came down above John's already scarred shoulder, she lashed out in a desperate adrenaline rush. Moriarty tipped to the side and John scuttled back as well as she could until she made it to her knees.
When John looked up, Moriarty was already standing, the knife in her hand, poised and ready to strike. Without hands, John angled her feet to the floor and charged upwards, aiming her shoulder for Moriarty's gut.
Moriarty huffed and fell to the ground.
John surged to her feet and pulled on her cuffs. There was no way she was fighting two body guards with her arms tied behind her back. Without a concussion, maybe. But the fuzzy world made it hard to bet on herself.
Moriarty growled madly and swept out her legs, connecting with the back of one of John's knees.
John fell forward but caught herself on one of the chairs with her shoulder, kicking Moriarty back again.
Moriarty grabbed with her hands, forgoing the knife in order to cling onto John's ankle.
John yanked hard and connected the heel of her trainer with Moriarty's nose.
Moriarty fell back with a yelp as John ran to the corner of the room.
Moriarty was quick to follow so John spun around and kicked the closest table with a raised leg. The table fell with a clash and Moriarty tripped forward but made it over, connecting a slap across John's cheek.
John charged forward again, her shoulder connecting with Moriarty's chest, her head aiding in sending Moriarty back over the toppled table and collapsing to the ground.
Moriarty screamed.
The door banged open and Stevie and Glenn came charging in, weapons raised.
Moriarty clutched her stomach and pulled her bloodied hand into the light, a twisted smile on her face.
John spun around and charged at the window, jumping straight into the glass with a loud crash.