GreenNebulae: New chapter out, I have been almost non-stop thinking about the John and Moriarty dynamics in my stories for a few days, and it has led to some writing for this and Demons, so let's hope it keeps up.
Start
Jim throws his arm over the couch behind John as he uses his other hand to point to the screen. John leans forward and uses his own hand to narrow in on the spot Jim had.
"So that crumb lets you know he just had breakfast?"
"Yes, if you look at its location, it's very mobile. Something like a crumb doesn't stay there for long, if at all."
"So he couldn't have been too mobile either."
"Which means?"
"Well, they took him to that station in a car, so that makes sense, he couldn't have eaten too long before they got him."
"Right. Now look at the shine on his nails."
"What shine?"
"There, that polish, it's grease. So he had a greasy pastry."
"Okay, right before he got in the car."
"Yes." Jim moves the arm on the couch to touch John's shoulder, John looks towards it and Jim uses his thumb to trace a line. "Do you see the man's shoulder, right where I'm touching you?"
"What about it?"
"It's creased just like yours."
"but I've just been sitting." Jim doesn't respond. "Oh, so he was sitting and eating a croissant when Lestrade came to get him." Jim smirks.
"Croissant?"
"Greasy, flakey? I took a guess."
"Good guess. Never guess." Jim moves to stand but John puts a hand on Jim's leg. Jim can't help the raised eyebrow and the scandalous tone.
"Oh, Johnny."
"Wait, let's do another," John looks over to Jim and takes his hand back. "Please?" Jim shrugs.
"Lestrade or Sherlock?" John ponders the thought.
"Why not both?"
"Let's start with the virgin then, shall we?"
"His shoes are dirty." John starts and Jim nods, taking out his buzzing phone.
…
"Lestrade, we're not making progress."
"Yeah, we are" Lestrade shrugs, "we have to interview them all."
"I'm not making progress! John wouldn't put me to use asking questions that you could ask." Sherlock leans against the wall. "The boyfriend was in rival gang of her brother. They tried to keep their relationship it a secret, and failed. The gang retaliated against him."
"What? Like Romeo and Juliet?"
"Who?" Sherlock turns to ask. Lestrade smiles.
"Shakespeare?" Sherlock narrows his eyes slightly. Lestrade takes to explaining the story as the next teen is brought into the room for questioning.
…
"Romeo and Juliet, huh?"
"Hmm." Jim nonchalantly agrees without taking his eyes off of his phone. John is still staring at the computer screen.
"So the boyfriend gets beat up by her brother's gang. Makes sense that they would retaliate. So the boyfriend's gang killed her."
"Mmm." Jim looks up to see John rub his chin.
"Why the 46 people?"
"I didn't arrest them."
"Oh, it's a distraction. None of them have anything to do with it, do they?" Jim doesn't answer, but he does lower the phone. "So Sherlock wants to find the brother, why?" Jim doesn't answer; just lets John spin his own wheels. He's picking up tells quickly, but isn't making many of his own leaps.
"You did get a folder outlining this whole thing."
"I didn't read it all. Skipped the murder part, but it's more fun now that I get to try and solve it too." Jim rubs his finger against the screen of his phone as he watches the fascinating creature in front of him and wonders what he's going to do without him.
This only ends in his death, after all; his death at Sherlock's hand.
Speaking of death…
…
Sherlock solves the case, gets another, and solves that. It's all boring. What's interesting is what Jim has planned for dear ol' Doctor Watson today. Jim glances to his bare wrist as he hops onto the table. Moran should be sending John down with his gun and John is going to kill for him again. Jim hates getting his hands dirty and John is such a good shot it should be fun to watch.
"Come in!" Jim calls out as John gets to the door and the man next to him trembles. Good. He should be scared.
Jim is sitting on a table with his legs crossed and a flirtatious grin as John walks in. The grin is for him and John can't help a small smile before the man next to Jim grabs his attention. He's gagged and bound by the arms and has a wide eyed fearful expression on his face. Jim reaches over and grabs the gagged man by the chin.
"You're going to shoot him between the eyes."
John raises an eyebrow; and Jim continues to smile, the soldier will learn from him but is still having issues with orders from him, and this should help curb that. "Why?" John asks doubtfully. "What did he do?"
"Nothing," Jim lies quickly. "This is about you." The man squirms but Jim tightens the grip on his chin.
"I won't." John is firm. "Not an innocent."
"No one's really ever innocent, are they?" Jim releases the man's chin and uses that arm to push him away. Jim smiles and winks at John and then the teasing playful expression drops away as if a flip was switched "You belong to me John," Jim announces with a fierce cruelty. "You've known this since you agreed to stay." John clenches his fist. "Now, I know you brought your gun. Kill him."
"No." John shakes his head. "It was different last time."
"You will kill whoever I tell you to whenever I tell you to. You don't get to say no to me."
"I'm saying it now." John places the gun on the table with finality. Jim eyes the gun before all of his features flatten.
"Really?" John straightens and moves his hands behind him.
"Yes."
"And because of that, you'll never say it to me again." With a manic grin Jim hops off the table and shoves the man backwards into a taped off room, John follows to see a bath tub with a dangerous looking concoction.
"Wait!" John shouts but Jim doesn't listen.
"I happen to know a chemist or two," John stops moving as Jim talks, "and this lovely vat is an acid bath that can turn a human body into nothing. I've been told it's very efficient." Jim pushes the man backwards into it and the man screams as he's thrown under the liquid. John hears a very painful gurgle. "Oh, and painful." John forces himself to watch. Had he shot the man, it would have been over a lot quicker.
"Why?" John lets out a ragged breath as he realizes there is nothing left of the man anymore.
"I have told you before, that you will deny me nothing." Jim says conversationally and John clenches his fist as he looks away. "So be a good boy for daddy, pick that gun up and go help Moran take out the trash. Those men most definitely are already guilty. Consider it a civil service."
John asked to be sharpened. Here's the grinding wheel.
….
Moran and John walk into the building together afterwards and John doesn't say much. Moran is usually quiet and John has been practicing his new skills on him, but he just wants today to be over. John looks up as David walks by and tries to offer a small smile, but David simply gives them both a curt nod.
"Moran, Watson."
"David, you called me Watson? You usually call me John."
"Huh," David comments, as if the thought hadn't occurred to him, if he just hadn't been so curt.
"Something happen?"
"No." David lies as he walks away and Moran puts his hand on John's back to push him forward to report to Jim
"We just took the trash out, John." He says by way of explanation and John tries not to flinch.
…
"Sherlock still hasn't taken his hands out of his pockets yet." John comments out loud as Jim paces around.
"So what could that mean?" Jim leans over the back of the couch John is sitting on and John stiffens.
"It means," John trails off and doesn't finish
"Oh? Am I making you uncomfortable, John?" Jim shifts to drape over John. "Is it me, or the touching, or" Jim grins knowingly "the fact that you killed seven people for me yesterday?" John stands swiftly, knocking the laptop to the floor. Jim hops over the couch and turns John around.
"That-You-I"
"What was so different about it, John?" Jim steps closer. "You've killed before, you've taken orders before, you have decided to kill a man before; I haven't given you anything new." John narrows his eyes. "Think about it Johnny. All these little insects get squashed eventually, it's what we do."
"It's what you do!" John smiles, "and I, I am not like you!" Jim opens his mouth to respond when John's phone buzzes.
"Oh, that must be Sherlock with an answer to your riddle." Jim walks away as John stands frozen.
His riddle.
That Sherlock had to solve to save people.
Because John said so.
Because John has the power to free these people or blow them up.
No one questions him.
John slowly checks his phone. Sherlock was right.
Images flash in his head of the others in their last moments.
Not only is he Jim, but he's also Moran, isn't he? How did this happen? When did this happen?
Can he stop it?
…
John rolls over in his bed before sitting up and rolling his shoulders. He blinks a couple of times and yawns as he regains his senses. This is the second time he has woken up in the past few hours, and John knows, even if he tries he won't be able to get back to sleep tonight. He scratches his head before nodding to himself. He could give Sherlock a new case, but it should wait until morning. He stretches further as he cracks his elbows and back.
His mobile phone's screen lights up with a text message. The chime sounds louder at four o'clock in the morning than it should. He leans over to the night table and picks it up, hoping it isn't Sherlock or Jim.
Come upstairs –JM
John lifts a single brow as he pursues his lips. What could Jim want at four in the morning? He swings his legs over the bed and walks to his closet when the phone chimes again. John doesn't check it until he's dressed.
Got a present for you –JM
John grabs his gun as he checks his phone. That doesn't sound good. John glances in the mirror on his way out of the room and quickly finds the staircase. Despite being four in the morning people are still roaming the halls, and John wonders how much Jim is involved in foreign affairs. Jim's door is unlocked and John walks in to see Jim sitting in a chair in a blue Westwood suit. John's eyes quickly find the man in the other chair playing with a lighter. He doesn't have anything to smoke; he just flicks it on and shuts it off. Jim doesn't acknowledge his presence at first, but the other man jumps to his feet.
"Who the hell is this, Mr. Moriarty?" Ah, Irish then. John takes another few steps into the room without saying a word. He finds comfort in the metal against his back and looks over to Jim.
"This is my colleague, Dr. Watson." Jim flicks dust of his suit that John doubts is truly there as he introduces John. "Well," he stands and looks between the two of them. "I thought you could help me Dr. Watson."
"How?" John looks back to the other who has crossed his arms and stopped playing with the lighter.
"This man just came to me with a very tempting offer." He shrugs "one I may very well take."
"So take it?" John sounds confused and the other man nods. Jim grimaces so only John can see.
"Now, now, don't rush into it." Jim looks back over his shoulder to the other. "You have your gun I presume." The Irishman narrows his yes and John nods curtly. "Yes, though I fail to see-" Jim tilts his head a fraction to the left and John snaps his mouth shut.
"This man here is having a bit of trouble in his smuggling ring." John doesn't shift out of his neutral stance. "Apparently, he is having trouble smuggling girls out of Albania this time of year." There it is; Jim notes with glee. The left foot moves out an inch and John's face goes from neutral to set in neutral. His knees bend a marginal degree and his fingers close just a bit. He could have his gun out and shooting in a second now.
"Why did you call me?" John asks thinly as his trigger finger twitches. This isn't what he signed up for. He wanted to save lives, not kill them. That's all he's been doing lately.
"Truthfully," Jim shrugs, grimaces, and sighs all at once. John has never seen a motion so interesting. "I want you to kill him." Jim looks over to John and the other looks between the two expecting a joke. John's eyes look to Jim before back to the Irishman. Really? Jim let a side of his mouth quirk up. Really.
"You've been helping me recently," by killing other people "and doing such a good job I thought I'd reward you with a good deed."
"By killing him?" John can protest all day, but the fact that his left arm is on the browning already means Jim has won. This victory is even bigger than the one of a few days ago, as this time, John will choose to kill, not be forced to. It is overwhelming, of course, but that is the plan. Force John to become the bad guy he hates, until he truly becomes it, and then Sherlock will have no place for him.
"If you don't then I'll help him." Jim looks bored, but he is anything but. "The choice is yours." The gun is aimed at the man's head, but John's eyes never leave Jim's face. The man lifts his arms,
"Hey, I can just go."
"You kill this man and he never hurts another girl again, the girls he has hurt can be found, and the ones he has, saved. All in all it's such a boring crime after he's dead." Jim turns to the man.
"John here gets to decide if you live now, but you should have known I don't take kindly to human traffickers." John swallows.
"I keep crime in check John. All of it flows through me and I choke out those that I don't approve of. We choke them out. You know how to kill criminals, John, so do it." John doesn't. "Should I give him a turban?" John's eyes narrow for a fraction of a second; Jim makes a note of John's disapproval. "Put him in the desert?" He can feel Johns anger; it makes his blood rush. "Would that make it easier for you to justify?" Nothing showed. Nothing moved. "This is for you to justify. I leave the choice to you." The day that Jim's word becomes enough justification is not far off, but there is still work to be done. "Either you pull the trigger or I take him up on his offer." Jim turns and begins to walk away, smiling when he hears the gunshot and the body falling to the floor.
John pulls the trigger without delay. This makes nine he's killed since he got here. The man crumples and John feels his heart hammer in his head. It's going to be ten in a moment. Next, he moves so that the gun is trained on the back of Jim's head. Jim stops without turning and John's voice shakes with anger as he tells him to turn around. Jim does, with his hands in his pockets and a smile on his face.
"What? Is the idea of killing someone who you can guarantee is a criminal so enraging you'll kill a commanding officer?"
"This isn't like that at all!" John yells and Jim tilts his head.
"Awfully high horse, John. You've killed before. You've killed and destroyed in the service of politicians who lie about why you're killing. Tell me John, what's so different about doing it for me? That I tell you the truth? That sometimes I let you choose?"
"I didn't do it for them, or me! I did it for my country."
"Ah, yes, Queen and Country, that's what every soldier tells themselves before they realize they're just doing it for money, or oil, or pride."
"Enough! I will not have you make a mockery of my service!"
"Your service is mine. I mock your morals." Jim turns away and starts to walk out. "Remember, you can leave at any time, this is your choice." John lowers the gun in defeat and looks over to the dead body on the floor. At least it was a criminal, he tells himself.
At least they've all been criminals.