A/N: Just a bit of an epilogue to the previous segment concluding "The Great Game" story-arc.
When John had called her up with a curt invitation to a private lunch at a restaurant in a neighbourhood they both knew her father and her Uncle Mycroft abhorred, Jackie had suspected something was up. And throughout their meeting, there had been a searching steeliness hiding behind John Watson's level gaze.
As they sat lingering over dessert, Jackie finally huffed and set her spoon aside.
"All right, enough with the cold shoulder treatment, Uncle John. What's this all about?"
John regarded her silently for a while and then set his coffee cup down on its saucer with a clink.
"It's just that it got me thinking how a smart young woman like you with her father's brains and far more good sense, ended up tied to a chair with a live ticking bomb strapped to her chest beside a London swimming pool a few weeks ago."
Jackie gave him a thin-lipped mirthless smile.
"I see Daddy's methods have begun to wear off on you. Well then, would you believe me if I said bad choices?"
John folded his arms across his chest.
"You've made those before. I wouldn't expect you to make the same kind of mistake twice."
Jackie's smile remained humourless.
"You overestimate me, Uncle John. Sometimes I'm just an ordinary teenager, and prone to acting as such."
John's eyes narrowed.
"Don't try and play me for a fool, Jackie," he warned.
Jackie heaved a sigh.
"I would never dream of doing any such thing, Uncle John. You must believe me. I am telling the truth."
Nevertheless, John didn't appear fully convinced.
"Explain," he demanded.
Jackie cast a furtive glance around the semi-busy eating joint.
"Not here. You know Uncle Mycroft's got ears everywhere. And I'm not about to humiliate myself for his entertainment. Or my father's."
John pursed his lips, but Jackie remained adamant.
"Very well then," he finally conceded, scraping back his chair and throwing his napkin on the table, "Where would you prefer to go?"
They ambled past the Serpentine and through the vast green expanse of Hyde Park as they walked, pausing to look at the ducks and swans and even once for an ice-cream.
Jackie hugged herself as she told John the tale, unable to look him in the eyes and instead gazing down into the depths of the river miserably.
"He was only a substitute at first and besides, he didn't even come in using his real name. Ours was the first class he taught, Mr. Brook, our new music teacher. He took an interest in me right from that very first day. In hindsight, I suppose that should have acted as a warning, but…what can I say, Uncle John? I suppose I was enjoying the attention."
John bristled inwardly, marvelling once again at Moriarty's innate ability to locate his opponent's vulnerabilities and exploit them quite so fiendishly.
"He was charming, he was handsome, he was an older man, a professor, no less, taking an interest in a sixteen-year-old! Need I say I was flattered. And he never spoke about Daddy, not once. He didn't seem remotely interested in the rest of my family, except for the fact that they existed, of course, he was only fascinated by me."
Of course. He must have only needed the simple verification that Jackie was truly related to those he suspected. John's insides churned sourly.
"I had no idea who he really was, you have to believe me, Uncle John!"
Jackie lifted her pleading eyes up to him and John's heart twisted within.
"He would invite me over for tea to his office and commend my talent as a pianist, even in private. He would lend me records from his own personal collection, he even gave me one to keep once. He never made a move that would make me suspect ...well, you know, that he was a pervert or a paedophile, for example. So I let myself fall for him, crush on him, fantasise about him, fool that I was!"
Jackie's voice held a too-adult bitterness that John knew was the result of her recent ordeal. Nevertheless, it still pained him.
"I can understand perfectly how it happened, Jackie," he assured her grimly, wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulder.
Jackie's lower lip was trembling now.
"But you know how he got me? To go with him that night? He came right into our dorm room and woke me up. He told me the school had received an urgent call from my family and that I was to return to London at once. I was so scared, Uncle John! I thought something terrible had happened to Daddy! And then he showed me a number. It was Uncle Mycroft's office number. He said he had called the school from that number and Professor Brook had called him back on it to confirm. He told me he had heard from Uncle Mycroft directly. I didn't doubt him after that."
Jackie heaved a sigh.
"I suppose I should have called Uncle Mycroft myself to confirm, but at the time, I couldn't see how he would have ever got his number unless he had received a call from it."
John chewed his lower lip, frowning in concentration.
"Mycroft would never be so careless, Jackie. Not with regards to you. I know that. I would have expected him to keep the school under covert surveillance for the simple fact that you go there!"
Jackie looked at him.
"He didn't know what he looked like," she replied quietly.
"Even if the school had been under surveillance, Uncle Mycroft's men wouldn't have been able to identify him. Nobody knew who he really was or what he really looked like until he revealed himself… that night, did they, Uncle John?"
John, sadly, could not refute the logic in her deduction. He tightened his hold protectively around her shoulders, looking around as twilight fell over the great cosmopolis of London.
"I suppose you don't want me to tell your father? About any of this?"
Unconsciously, he felt her muscles bunch under his arm.
"I'd thank you not to, Uncle John, if it's all the same to you."
Suddenly a hint of iciness had crept into her tone.
John sighed.
"And I suppose it's further of no use trying to convince you to forgive him? That he still loves you?"
Jackie looked away, but John had no doubt of the fresh stream of tears trickling down her cheeks.
He shook his head absently with an ironic smile, almost to himself.
"Oh Moriarty. He really does know how to do his job, doesn't he? He knows exactly how to get to his victims' most vulnerable points… and twist."
John made a vicious stabbing gesture with his free hand.
Jackie rested her head against his coat wearily and John looked down upon the head of the sadly troubled child.
Hadn't the poor thing been through enough?
"Are you going back to Baker Street, then?"
John nodded.
"I'll drop you off at your mum's first."
Jackie looked out over the dusky Mayfair thoroughfare as the sun dipped on it's way to set over Kensington Palace.
"He's won, hasn't he?" she finally managed to ask, her voice husky after her tears.
"Professor Brook? Moriarty? He's just going to get away with it?"
John grimaced in frustration.
"Well, atleast he's revealed himself. He doesn't have the cover of anonymity any more. Sherlock's going to hunt him down, Jackie, I promise. Your father-"
"My father!"
Jackie snorted in open contempt.
"Tell my father not to bother. His playmate lives another day to play with him. And he can go prancing along when he whistles."
John's heart ached on Sherlock's behalf, hearing Jackie's words. This rift between them would not be easily mended, he realised. What would Sherlock have to do to win back his daughter's trust? A trust Moriarty had so brutally destroyed?
Yes. Unfortunately, Moriarty had won. This time.
John gave a mirthless chuckle.
"What a criminal mastermind we've got on our hands, eh Jackie love?"
"Yeah. He should be giving classes in that. Dear old Professor Brook...no, rather Professor Moriarty…"