Disclaimer: settings and characters as depicted in BBC series not mine. No money being made. Plot is mine.
Beginning of the End
Moriarty was waiting in the flat when they got back from the Bank. Sherlock was not pleased – John would not enter into intimacies with Moriarty pleasant and would likely not be in the mood to do so when the man left either.
The consulting criminal was sitting in his Heart's armchair, reading through John's blog. They had agreed that the blog would stay up as a double blind to distract Moriarty from what they were really doing. John had proven to be remarkably capable at subtle double entendres, something that they had played with in a more intimate setting.
"Good morning, boys!" Moriarty giggled from the armchair, "I've just been catching up with your Pet's blog."
John said nothing, not even bothering to protest Moriarty's name calling, choosing instead to go stand in the kitchen doorway, his hands clasped in front of him in a stance that Sherlock would have thought formal if not for the gun hidden in John's waistband. With his hands like that he could get to the weapon quickly. Sherlock raised an eyebrow at his 'guest' and went to lean on the mantelpiece beside his skull.
"To what do we owe the pleasure?" it was best to at least attempt pleasantries with Moriarty – the man was supposed to be his employer after all. He noted with interest the remnants of injuries from the Pool – broken bones and one nasty slice, probably caused by shards of tile flung into the air by the bomb blast. Moriarty was not as 'at ease' as he wanted them to think.
"I came to see how you were doing, Sherlock, to touch base with my newest employee, as it were," Moriarty drawled, "Think of this as your three month employment review."
"How very... corporate," Sherlock sighed, not having to feign the boredom. He noted the flash of annoyance in Moriarty's eyes with glee – anything that discomforted the other man was acceptable to Sherlock.
"And how is your dear landlady?" Moriarty's voice took on a sly tone, "She's a real treasure, isn't she?"
John stiffened in the doorway where he stood and shot Sherlock a look, but made no other reaction. Sherlock debated for a moment and then signalled for John to stay where he was – it was too obvious a barb to be serious.
"Yes, she is," Sherlock replied coolly, "I suppose you're aware of John Clay's arrest?"
"Hmm," Moriarty nodded, "Pity. I had plans for him. Plus I wanted to see if he could resist the temptation of repeating the crime. You rather spoiled my fun there. Now I'll have to think of something else to do."
Sherlock could almost read John's thoughts: something along the lines of 'my heart bleeds' accompanied by a series of profanities. He quirked an eyebrow at his partner in admonishment and then looked back at his 'guest'.
"What, precisely, would you like to take Clay's place?" he asked, certain that Moriarty was about to make some outrageous request. This could well be John's breaking point here, though they had discussed what to do if Moriarty crossed John's boundaries.
"Well, now," Moriarty purred, "I did have something in mind – but not here, I'm afraid. Travel would be required to complete my little task and Pets are not allowed."
"John," Sherlock made his tone a dismissal and the army veteran huffed, playing his role perfectly as he left the room, offense radiating in every line of his back. Moriarty chuckled, amused by the situation, but Sherlock gave him such a pointed look that the topic was dropped.
"I want you to see to a little network that I'm establishing in Europe," Moriarty purred, dropping John's laptop carelessly to the floor and standing, "Be my eyes and ears as it were. I'll have my actual front man in play of course, but I want your opinion. It may well be time for a corporate shake-up: I'd so love to have you working more closely with me."
"Well, why not?" Sherlock shrugged, "I've been meaning to travel."
"Fabulous!" Moriarty clapped his hands in glee, "I've got the details all here for you... of course, I should warn you that if dear Sebastian catches sight of you he will be very annoyed – possibly murderous."
"Very well," Sherlock shrugged, "It's nothing to me."
Moriarty gave him a final smirk and kicked John's computer out of the way, cracking the lid as he did so. Sherlock spared a fleeting thought for John's reaction to this latest act of vandalism and then concentrated on the matter at hand.
On the face of it, Moriarty was simply tightening and redistributing his overseas network of informants, assassins and hired thugs of varying ability. If one looked beyond the obvious however, it was clear that a shake-up was in effect and that some of the redundant parts of the network were about to find themselves dead. 'Dear Sebastian' was a former Colonel and sharp shooter, more than capable of killing off unwanted or obsolete assets.
The implications, though... Sherlock would need to devote weeks, possibly months to this – it was the way into Moriarty's enterprise that they had been seeking. With the information, not to mention informants, that Sherlock was about to gain access to, he would be able to cripple Moriarty once and for all: provided of course that he survived the attempt. Sherlock had no doubt that Sebastian Moran was aware of Moriarty's little plan. The thin genius had no idea what Moran had done to earn Moriarty's displeasure, but the Colonel obviously had to catch and kill Sherlock to regain it.
The moment the criminal mastermind was out the front door, Sherlock searched the flat from top to bottom, finding and disabling the three 'bugs' that had been installed, as well as deactivating a rather nasty acid trap that had been rigged in John's wardrobe. John was downstairs with Mrs Hudson – he had watched the criminal leave their home before returning to their landlady's flat, giving Sherlock an unreadable look as he did so.
Once he was certain that the flat was clean of surveillance, Sherlock trotted downstairs to retrieve John. His Heart would not like the upcoming separation, but they had little to no choice in the matter: it would be completely impossible to take John with him, partially because it meant that Mrs Hudson would be left undefended. Sherlock had attempted to come up with several compelling arguments for their upcoming separation, but knew that whatever he said, his Heart would fret while they were apart.
"Bloody hell!" John exclaimed as he caught sight of his vandalised laptop, positioned just so for maximum effect, "That wanker!"
"Sorry, my Heart," Sherlock murmured, "I'll replace it, of course."
"That's not the point, Sherlock," John said wearily, "It's about you being gone and me being left behind – the laptop can be replaced. You can't!"
"Nor can you," Sherlock pulled his John into his arms, burying his face in John's neck, "But we agreed that we would see this through to the end – we knew it may come to some distasteful actions."
John growled inarticulately and held on tight, resisting the upcoming separation in a most illogical manner. They would need to plan the safety of those that lived in 221B and John's work situation, but Sherlock knew that was not at the top of John's concerns either.
"You'd better not get yourself killed, you hear me? And you'd better come back," was all his Heart said on the matter, and then they were peeling away from each other and getting the laptop and John's files out, updating them together for the last time.
Sherlock wouldn't see his Heart for another three years.
AN – I KNOW!