Ripple

Chapter 6: Toeing the Line

Summary: Sherlock discovers the literature ensnaring Moriarty's sick fascination and receives some unsettling threats.

A/N: I'll tell you, it really sucks a lot not having your own laptop. I'm very lost without it and I feel like I'm cheating on it when I use my dad's computer to update my story. Hopefully my part comes soon, but who knows how long shipment from China takes…anyways enough of my woes and let's continue shall we?

*Day 4 of Hell*

Sherlock hadn't seen such a brutal murder in a long time. Hardly anything left to distinguish the body as a female. She was very nearly ripped limb from limb, yet small threads of muscle and skin still kept everything attached. Sherlock shivered. Lestrade shifted uncomfortably next to him and kept his eyes on the wall across from them.

"Found by a young bloke, said his dog had run off and when he found him again he was…sniffing around the body," Lestrade said.

Sherlock nodded and pulled his small magnifying glass from his pocket and moved over the area the woman's neck once was. He was making mental notes of the way the flesh and the blood there looked. He didn't look over his shoulder when he heard the telltale sound of John coming into the storage unit.

"John," he greeted as he moved to the other side of the body.

John nodded and was thankful the kids were in their daycare today and not with Sherlock. This crime scene was decidedly worse than the last. John crouched next to the unfortunate soul and sucked in a breath, he looked across the mangled corpse to Sherlock, "Sh-she was alive for most of this," John hissed motioning to the body.

Sherlock's steely eyes showed no emotion as he nodded, "Acid was introduced this time. The other three were just killed with a large kitchen knife. He's getting a bit more creative now," Sherlock stated and picked up the woman's hand. It too was held to the arm with a thin ribbon of skin and muscle. The woman had two and a half fingers missing. Sherlock frowned.

"Christ Sherlock, look at where her thumb was, those are teeth marks..s-someone bit her thumb off," John hissed again as he noted the way each juncture of her body was mangled and that her body was held together by few precious tendons and skin.

Sherlock didn't make a sound. It would be useless to swab the finger for saliva, Sherlock knew the killer wouldn't be found in the databases with it, he glanced over at Lestrade, "Was there another message?" he asked the Detective Inspector.

Lestrade shook his head, "We didn't find anything this time, she another call girl?" he asked.

Sherlock nodded stiffly, "Not much of her clothes left but her shoes, they give her away. She's from another service entirely. I also fathom that she has a sibling in America. Her sibling lives in New York city just as the other siblings do."

John sighed and pushed himself to his feet. He turned away. He couldn't look at the mangled mess anymore without being haunted by war visions. He closed his eyes tightly and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"John…you can wait outside," Sherlock said softly as he came to stand next to John.

John nodded and managed to walk rigidly out into the chilly air just as Anderson and Donovan moved past him. They didn't greet him; something about the grimness of the scene didn't particularly entice one to be cordial. John was thankful that he wasn't called upon to speak to them just yet; he doubted he could open his mouth without launching into a panic attack. The mangled corpse far too closely resembled what some of his friends had looked like after stepping on an IED. John moved into the vicinity of the police cars and shoved his hands into his coat pockets as he leaned against the hood of one. He closed his eyes again and forcefully willed the disturbing images from his mind. He concentrated on the cool air slipping in through his nose and down to sting slightly against his lungs. The distraction was welcomed. He opened his eyes again against the early afternoon sun and something white flitted through the air. John squinted at it and it came to rest at his feet. It was a paper airplane. He cocked a brow and picked it up. Curious, as anyone would be, he unfolded the paper and read the note scribbled there.

I figured another little push is in order for you. I'm very fond of this book Sherlock. I almost think you might enjoy it too, though your little pet might find it disturbing. Here, I'll be nice and give you a few lines from the novel:

" I was simply imitating reality, the rough resemblance of a human being, with only a dim corner of my mind functioning. Something horrible was happening and yet I couldn't figure out why - I couldn't put my finger on it. The only thing that calmed me was the satisfying sound of ice being dropped into a glass of J&B."

You got it from here then I hope Sherlock. Say hi to the kids for me.

JM

John was going to be sick. The initial part of the letter didn't bother him, not until Moriarty had mentioned the twins. John very nearly smashed the piece of paper in his grip, but some hidden refuge of strength prevented him from doing so. His feet were rooted in their spot, he didn't think he could count on them to move him to where Sherlock was so he had to count on his voice, "Sherlock!" he yelled harshly, tremors shaking his hands.

Sherlock's head snapped up from his phone. He heard John yelling for him. His heart very nearly shattered through his ribcage. He couldn't fathom what would have John yelling for him. He quickly ran from the storage unit and saw John by the police cars. He was holding something in his left hand; his hands were shaking. Sherlock swallowed the lump in his throat, John's hands never shook.

"John?" Sherlock asked quietly with worry as he neared the doctor. Sally and Anderson followed behind Sherlock and Lestrade took up the rear.

John was wide eyed when Sherlock reached him. He shoved the paper into Sherlock's chest, "Here," he muttered.

Sherlock blinked, he wanted to shove the paper away and take John's face into his hands and see what upset the man, but he didn't. He reached towards his chest and pried the paper from John's grasp. His Steele grey eyes quickly flashed across the words written there. His brows furrowed and a frown pulled at his lips, he looked up, "He was here," he breathed and looked at John again his eyes going wide, "My God John, he was here, are you alright, did he do anything?" Sherlock asked now returning his attention to his doctor.

John was still a little too stunned to register what was going on until he felt Sherlock's hands on his shoulders. John made a pained noise and shrugged from Sherlock's grasp, "I'm fine Sherlock. I didn't see him. It was a…a paper airplane."

Sherlock sucked in a deep breath just as the others reached them. "Like I said before, scour all of the five star hotels for any man from New York. He could be a banker, an investor, a CEO, something high up. See what you can find and text me the instant you have something. I need to figure out this book," he told Lestrade and shoved the letter to the DI.

"I…B-but Sherlock?" Lestade sputtered as he pulled the letter from his chest and skimmed what was written there.

Sherlock shot him a glare, "We're leaving," he said and placed his hand under John's elbow and steered him away and towards the road where he hailed a cab.

John, again, didn't register much until he felt Sherlock pulling him towards the road. John made a noise and dug his heels into the cement beneath his feet, "Sherlock…Sherlock!" John prodded until the detective turned to face him with a questioning brow raised, "The twins Sherlock, we need to get them from the daycare," John huffed and started walking again.

Sherlock grunted indignantly in his throat, "Mycroft will pick them up and bring them to Baker Street, for now we have to keep them out of this as much as possible."

John furrowed his brows, "Mycroft?" he questioned and the thought actually almost made him laugh.

Sherlock looked up from his text, "Yes Mycroft, please listen John. If anyone were better equipped to ensure the safety of the two hellions it is the British government," Sherlock muttered and hit send.

John snorted, "Well yes I suppose but…" he trailed there seeing the glint in Sherlock's gaze; so it wasn't so much about protection as it was payback.

"He brought baby pictures to the queen John…to the queen!" Sherlock huffed and turned away sulking as he hailed a cab.

John bit a knuckle to keep from chuckling, really it wasn't proper considering what they had just left behind, but the reminder was almost too much for him, "Thought you didn't hold grudges," John said as he entered the cab.

Sherlock huffed, "Mycroft is barred from that privilege," Sherlock informed him, "besides, the hellions love him for some reason and he them," he tutted and opened the message from Mycroft and smirked before typing furiously again. He entered the quote from the novel into the search bar and waited while the dredges of the internet struggled to bring forth what his search had dug up. Sherlock clicked on the first link. He had to scroll a bit in order to find what he needed, "Ahhh…brilliant," he muttered.

John coughed from next to Sherlock, "Excuse me Sherlock, but did you just call him brilliant? A man who is torturing young woman in some of the worst ways imaginable…I know you don't generally think along the same lines as us normal humans but…brilliant? Really?" John huffed as Sherlock started to scroll furiously through his phone.

"Found the book…I'm not sure if I should be worried or not that Moriarty gave us such a blatant clue," he said and looked over to John with furrowed brows.

John wanted to continue to be angry but the look on Sherlock's face made him let out a sigh, "I'm not such a big idiot to see the dolt has a…a crush on you…actually I think the sodding psychopath might actually be in love with you…or rather your hard drive," John muttered and turned his gaze to look out the cab's window.

Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes, "Oh don't be so droll John, really," he muttered and fired off directions to the cabbie to the nearest bookstore.

John whipped his head around and shot him a glare, "Oh, excuse me for not liking the fact that my partner is being lusted after by some psychopath who likes to think up new games to entice him with, and forgive me being a bit pissed that my partner bloody well enjoys the games," John retorted in a quiet and angered tone.

Sherlock frowned again, "I don't enjoy them John," he hissed and shoved his phone into the pocket of his black coat.

John snorted and looked away, "Could have fooled me," he muttered and then faced the detective again, "all I want you to keep in mind, Sherlock, is the well-being of the twins. They will not be pawns in this sick game you and Jim are playing with one another. If either of them is harmed…so help me Sherlock," he hissed very angrily.

Sherlock blinked, and then his brows lowered as he glared at John, "I would never put them in danger John. Do you really think I'd do that? I may not like them all that much but…but I'd never forgive myself if anything did happen to them," he muttered grudgingly and sulked against the door of the cab.

John sighed and moved a hand through his hair, "I'm sorry Sherlock I just…I don't like when he toys with us and I don't like that it…excites you," he muttered quietly.

Sherlock blinked and looked over at John. He straightened in his seat and reached over to twine their fingers together, "John…the only reason it excites me is because when he does this…he opens himself up for me to get at him. He leaves clues scattered around when he comes out to play because his cronies aren't smart enough to clean up after themselves. I know that the murders are upsetting but they allow for me to get closer to taking him down," Sherlock said to him and squeezed their hands. Sherlock didn't really know how to word exactly what he had just told John but he knew John would understand nonetheless.

John sighed and squeezed his hand in answer, "Then let this be the last game he plays Sherlock, innocent people keep being killed for him and for you," he said quietly and glanced out the window as the cab pulled to a stop.

Sherlock nodded, he couldn't promise John he'd get Moriarty this time around, but he would try. He was always trying because Jim's words repeated in his mind all the time:

"I will burn you…burn the heart right out of you."

If there was one thing Sherlock Holmes could not and would not survive, it would be the death of John Watson. Sherlock's fingers tightened unconsciously on John's as he pulled the doctor from the cab. Sherlock would never allow harm to befall John; not as long as he could help it.

A/N: So thoughts? I beefed it up a bit for you guys! I'm actually rather proud of this chapter for some reason, so I really want your thoughts! Please review! I am so very excited for reviews because I crave them so very badly!