I'm going to be updating more frequently from now on, I hope you're still enjoying the story :D Here's where things really start to get interesting ;)
Happy reading!
Clara's phone buzzed in her jacket pocket and her fingers flexed instinctively to reach for it, but she quickly halted her actions and refrained from doing so. Moriarty's piercing eyes were boring into her, and she felt as if she was under intense scrutiny. He was like a ticking time bomb, one false move and she was dead.
She stood and maneuvered herself around to perch on the side of the desk, his eyes following her every move with silent laughter. Biting the bullet and swallowing her terror, she stared him directly in the eye.
"Why don't you tell me just what you think you're doing then, hm?" She arched an eyebrow delicately, trying to decide how to pose a question in a way that would evoke a coherent answer from the riddle-loving maniac. "I think I should be in on this little game of yours if I'm going to play along. So tell me. What's all this about?"
Abruptly, Jim pushed back from the table as far as his restraints would allow, the metal legs of the chair scraping across the floor with an unpleasant grating sound. He grimaced theatrically, hissing through his bared teeth.
"What was it curiosity killed again?" He mused thoughtfully, face contorting in feigned confusion as if trying against all the odds to grasp at the answer. "I can't quite recall. C- C- … Definitely something beginning with C."
Clara glowered at him indignantly, realising that he was referring to her name. The ball was in his court, and now he was refusing to play along. It frustrated her beyond belief. But still, she knew that there was someone there behind the cold, deadly mask he had fixed in place, someone who was just a little bit more human. She was determined to uncover that person. She opted to resort to sarcasm to try and extract the answer from him.
"Well, if your plan was to kill me off, you're certainly going about it the right way," She shrugged nonchalantly, tapping the desk with her fingernail, irked at his continuous lack of cooperation. "Lure me here, refuse to enlighten me on the situation and wait for me to die of boredom."
Jim's raised his eyes towards the ceiling with a lazy smile.
"Oh come now, Clara, you deserve so much better than a boring death like that. Something a tad more spectacular, like mine or Sherlock's."
"You're both still alive."
"I know, I know. I live, I die… I live again," Jim winced through clenched teeth with an over exaggerated squint. "It's such a vicious cycle, isn't it? Interesting thing though, death… You can have so many thoughts whizzing around in there," He tapped his head and trailed off thoughtfully before pulling a disgusted face. "And then you pull the trigger and your mind just goes… Blank."
Clara swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly feeling like cotton as she thought back to the tale of events that Sherlock had described to her regarding Moriarty's alleged 'death'.
"You're always playing games, aren't you?" She whispered tersely, trying to figure him out. "Why are you always playing games?"
"Oh, honey, I'm only getting started," Moriarty bared his teeth in a sinister grin. Clara tried not to shrink away, adamant not to show weakness. Moriarty didn't approve of weakness.
But the opposite of weakness was strength. The man sitting in front of her with the smug expression of a contented cat valued control and power more than anything. She had to demonstrate those qualities if she had any hope of winning the game.
"Fine," She clicked her fingers decisively. "Let's play a game. A guessing game. You give me the pieces and I put the puzzle together."
"Carry on," A slow smile began to creep across Jim's face, intrigue flashing in his eyes.
"Right," Clara paused, inhaling steadily. She had to be careful here, cautious. She had to work with what she knew, and right now she didn't have much to go on. "First thing's first. You're sitting here in a police station, handcuffed and under supervision, but you weren't arrested. You got here all by yourself. And if there's anything that spending time with you has taught me, it's that you always have a reason for what you do."
"Good, good, but easily deduced," Jim laced his fingers together in front of him and leaned back, staring up at her. "There's always madness to my method, you know that well. So why am I here?"
"Because…" Clara bit her lip. The answer to that was simple enough, though the question that she knew was sure to follow was a different story entirely. "Because there's something here that you want."
"Which is?" The criminal prompted, eyes wide in anticipation. He tapped the desk insistently in a fervent, distorted rhythm. "Come on, Clara, focus!"
Clara jumped, startled as he voiced the last word in a sharp shout designed to unnerve her. Her thoughts began to race. What did he want? What the hell could someone like him, someone without a care in the world, desire? Why on Earth was a man presumed to be dead sitting in a police station with an air of unshakable, unwavering confidence?
"Publicity," Clara exclaimed suddenly, clapping her hands together with a snap. "Making a surprise appearance in the place you're most likely not to be found? This is your big comeback. Or part of it at least. This is the start of something big."
"Not bad," He nodded slowly, and Clara didn't fail to notice that he almost looked impressed. "But that prompts the question…?"
Clara pondered as he trailed off, finally coming to the gut-wrenching conclusion that she was here for a reason. One that she might not like.
"Why am I here, Jim?" She appealed simply, her efforts only lackluster now. She was beginning to feel out of her depth, ominous dread settling in the pit of her stomach, twisting and writhing uncomfortably.
"You're here to prove to me that you deserve to be," Jim's eyes widened earnestly. "The moment you become a liability, I'll be forced to.." He hesitated and puffed out a sharp huff of breath loudly with a slight shake of his head. "… Snuff you out."
His carefree, lilting tone in conjunction with the deadly words instilled more dread in Clara than she had ever felt in his presence before. She was sure she could worm her way out of this one, though.
"Like I said when I first met you," She jutted out her chin defiantly. "You can't tell stories to someone that's dead."
Moriarty's grin was slow and cold, his eyes crinkling at the corners with mirth. He clicked his tongue sharply and tutted.
"When a person dies, Clara," His voice was so soft and low that Clara had to instinctively lean in closer just to catch what he was saying. "Their hearing is the last thing to go."
For a split second, Clara froze with fear, her heart thudding in her ears. Then she snapped.
"Fine!" She spat in defiance, pushing back from the desk again as her temper flared. "Go on, then, get on with it! Kill me!"
"Brave," Jim purred, lifting a brow in mild surprise at her outburst. Clara barked out a humorless laugh, her eyes wide incredulously.
"Oh no, not brave. I'm bloody terrified," She laughed, exhaling swiftly. "But that doesn't matter. Because you know what? You're not gunna kill me. You've had too many opportunities to do that by now for it to still be a possibility."
"Are you calling my bluff?" Jim's eyes narrowed dangerously, a deadly glint visible in them.
"Yeah," Clara breathed, feeling a rush of adrenaline course through her veins. She grinned suddenly, elation flooding her at her realisation. "Yeah, I am. 'Cause you can't kill me, can you? I'm your weakness, Jim. And doesn't that just terrify you?"
Jim's eyes turned to cold stone, all traces of amusement drained from his face. He glared at her, jaw set angrily. A moment of silence hung in the air between them, thick with tension.
"That's quite a wild accusation," Moriarty murmured darkly, his icy eyes boring into her as his voice took on a lethal tone. "Are you willing to bet your life on it?"
"Absolutely," Clara forced out through gritted teeth before she lost her nerve.
Moriarty's face remained vacant and unreadable for another achingly painful second, before he hummed softly and raised his eyebrows. Clara watched as something shifted in his expression, she could almost see the cogs in his brain turning. His sharp, abrupt laughter rang out around the room.
"That's it, though, that's what I was waiting for," He grinned widely, clenching his fists. "There's that spark, that fire that I know and love."
"Excuse me?" Clara scoffed, folding her arms and staring at him in disbelief.
"I think you're ready," He smirked, drawing back and delving into his pocket for a moment. Shifting his position so as to gain better access to the contents in spite of the handcuffs, he retrieved a small metal object and tossed it to Clara. She lunged and caught it with a gasp of surprise. It was like being back in the Tardis with the Doctor all over again, the excitable Time Lord throwing his sonic screwdriver at her in a life or death situation.
"What's this?" She squinted and examined the object carefully, turning it over in her hands. It was small and flat, and one green light blinked on it every second or so. The shape of it indicated that it was designed to slot into something, though what that something was, she hadn't the slightest idea.
"One might say it's the opposite of a secret weapon," Jim drawled evasively.
Clara paused, mouth slightly agape as she pondered.
"… A not secret weapon?"
"No, Clara," Jim scoffed impatiently. "Something that disables a secret weapon."
"Oh," Clara exclaimed with a light laugh, before a sudden thought struck her. She gawped at Jim. "Wait- You're not saying what I think you're saying, are you?"
Before the consulting criminal had the opportunity to answer, the door behind her burst open and she whipped around to see Lestrade with an expression of acute horror etched onto his face. He brandished his phone at Clara wildly and pointed at it.
"Have you seen this?" He boomed, looking over her shoulder to glare at Moriarty. "This is your doing, I suppose?"
"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about," Jim leaned back with a nonchalant shrug and a lazy smile, his eyes drifting over to Clara to gauge her reaction.
"I'm guessing you haven't checked your phone then," Lestrade addressed Clara and sighed as she snatched his mobile from him and stared at the screen. "Mycroft's on the phone to his brother right now. I never thought I'd say this, but the sooner Sherlock gets here the better. Every phone, every tv, every computer screen in the country, he's- He's got them all."
Lestrade's voice sounded smaller than before, and Clara looked up at the detective's lost expression in shock at what she had seen. Shoving his phone back into his hands, she stuffed her trembling hand into her pocket and pulled out her own phone, which she had elected to ignore earlier.
There it was on the screen, clear as day, Jim Moriarty's face staring back at her with the words 'Did you miss me?' scrawled in bold across the picture, flashing manically. She pressed the screen frantically, but the image refused to disappear. She had no control over her phone. Clara's blood seemed to freeze and turn to ice in her veins.
"This," She breathed shakily, turning back to Moriarty and holding out the phone to him. "This is it, isn't it? Your big comeback."
"It's time to take back the crown," Jim smirked coldly. He stood suddenly, and Clara's eyes widened as her gaze trailed down to his hands and realised that they were no longer encased in the cuffs.
"How did you-"
"Oh, don't be silly, I've weaseled my way out of trickier situations than this, do you really think a pair of shiny handcuffs are going to stop me? I admire the sentiment really, but…"
The edges of his mouth pulled down in a strained frown. Clara took a wary step back, eyes narrowed as she glared at Moriarty.
"Bloody hell-" Lestrade huffed in frustration and called over his shoulder to a few officers outside the room. He turned back to face Moriarty again, mouth agape. Clara glanced at the Inspector briefly.
"Um, you probably should've stopped him from doing that," She nodded towards the set of handcuffs lying discarded on the desk.
"If I actually knew how he did it, I'd have stopped him," Lestrade sighed resignedly. "Honestly, I need a raise. Actually no, scratch that, I need a drink. I'm calling Mycroft, he needs to get back here. Hopefully Sherlock's ready to join us."
"Excellent, the more the merrier," Moriarty sang as he edged around the desk slowly, reminding Clara of a dangerous predator.
"Clara, time to leave," Lestrade's eyes were fixed on Moriarty gravely as a few officers unfamiliar to Clara appeared behind him. "Now."
"I'm not going anywhere!" She snapped incredulously. "I'm involved in this now, I can't just leave!"
"Clara, I'm not leaving you here with him! Now, come with me, or I shall arrest you too."
"You'd really do that?" Clara blinked. Lestrade shrugged.
"If that's what it takes to keep you away from him, then yes."
"She's right, you know," Moriarty lolled his head back, stretching his neck languidly. "She's a lot more involved than you think."
"What do you mean?" Clara and Lestrade chorused simultaneously, Clara's tone defensive and Lestrade's hopelessly confused.
"Oh, me?" Jim gestured at himself in mock surprise and laughed. "Nothing, nothing, don't worry. I'm just talking about the bomb."
"The what?!" Clara yelped.
"Sorry, did I say bomb?" Jim frowned as if perplexed and closed his eyes, a hand to his forehead with a rueful smile. "Sorry, sorry, scratch that, I mean to say bombs. Plural."
"Jim Moriarty, what do you mean bombs?" Clara growled through clenched teeth.
"Oh you know, the one tucked away snugly under this station ready to explode at a moment's notice," Jim smiled brightly and shrugged. "And then there's that other one… And that's where you come in, Clara."
"What are you talking about?" She breathed, voice barely above a whisper.
"Haven't you figured it out yet?" He cocked his head to the side as he approached steadily, his voice lilting and mocking. "I'm giving you an offer you can't possibly refuse. I always did like shiny things."
He paused and inclined his head towards the device in Clara's hand. She gasped, piecing two and two together.
"This- It disables the bombs!"
"Ah ah ah, don't get ahead of yourself, Miss Oswald, no," Moriarty began to pace, wagging his finger at her in a chiding manner. "One bomb. Just the one. My generosity knows no bounds, but even I can only stretch so far."
"You want me to choose," Clara stared at him in horror, unnerved to discover that she was trembling slightly. "Jim, where- Where's the other bomb?"
"That's for me to know, and you to find out," Jim tapped the side of his nose with a sadistic smirk. "This is where the fun really begins."
"This is not happening," Lestrade groaned, snapping his fingers at Clara. "Come on. You, out. Now. Spend any more time with this psychopath and you'll end up losing your mind as well."
"You say that like it's a bad thing," Jim smiled slyly. Clara ignored him and looked at Lestrade appealingly.
"I can't leave, not now," She shook her head adamantly. "Can't I just stay here?"
"Not really, no!" Lestrade yelled, and Clara could tell he was at his wits end.
"There's people lives at stake, and if I don't find out what the hell all this is about, people are going to die!" Clara rarely shouted unless she really had to, but she found that raising her voice was necessary to emphasize her point here. "Go. Do what you have to do. I'll be fine."
Lestrade shook his head slowly, his jaw clenched unhappily but his hands were tied and they all knew it.
"I'm going to evacuate the building," He motioned to the other police officers to follow suit finally and then pointed at Clara and Jim. "Don't move. Not a step, you understand?"
"Oh, I'm not going anywhere," Moriarty smiled cruelly as Lestrade started off down the hallway at a sprint. "I wouldn't want to miss the show."
"This is not happening," Clara groaned, clenching her eyes shut for a moment as if it would make all this go away.
"Resorting to denial already, are we? It's a little early in the day for that, isn't it?" Jim nodded towards the clock on the wall. It was nearly 5am. Clara felt panic begin to rise in her throat.
"You can't expect me to do this," She raised her voice in indignation. "How am I supposed to figure out where the other bomb is?"
"Time's running out," Moriarty's eyes glinted smugly, blatantly avoiding her question. "Tick tock."
Tick tock! Bit of suspense is good for the soul as they say… Well, maybe not.
I'm re-watching The Abominable Bride, it's so good :D Moriarty is amazing in it, but I'm still confused as to whether he's actually really dead.
What are your thoughts on it? Do you think he's really dead?
So anyway I hoped you enjoyed this chapter! Next one will be up soon I promise Thanks for reading!