Saucy Jacky

Background noises of 19th century London echoed in the room we stood in. It was dark and candle-lit, with two projectors beaming two silhouttes into two seperate windows. Both were female. The first silhoutte began to move as us onlookers looked up at it. She was combing through her hair repeatedly, the room seemed to be building tension and then another silhoutte appeared, a taller, stockier man with a top hat who attacked her. The angry snarls filled the room and bounced off the walls, I could feel myself tensing. We watched in horror as a knife was drawn and put to her throat and she fell out of sight. Jack the Ripper was a cruel bastard.

Moriarty seemed to be watching my reaction to the horrible scene, his grip on my hand had loosened, his thumb lightly stroking mine. He leaned into me as a voice began to talk about the first victim of the infamous Ripper- Mary Ann Nichols.

"You wanted thrill and lust, John" he whispered in my ear, a little seductively putting extra emphasis on lust.

I licked my lips and nodded. He giggled slightly. The voice in the background continued, as did he.

"It's disgusting what he did, but the excitement that comes when hunting your prey John, it snuffs out your conscience.. blinds it. Makes the thrill of the chase so... sexy."

"And after?" I was curious as to how homicidal, dangerous minds worked and evidently, the Ripper and Moriarty were quite similar.

"The adrenaline is enough to encourage you to carry on, what's life without danger?" His eyes twinkled a little in the darkness, he was relishing in a memory again and i pushed aside any guesses as to the memory. But then his eyes changed, they looked sad even, which I thought was a trick because of the lighting. But he turned and as light fell a little more upon his face I could see the furrowed brow, the slight frown and sad eyes. He leaned in to continue but didn't look at me this time.

"killing never quenches the thrill, it ensnares you and traps you.. leaving you feeling empty, yearning for a taste of pure lust, to feel... human again"

I was a little suprised. Moriarty wanted to be human? I couldn't imagine him as a normal man, one who didn't ruin lives and arrange to meet at horror-based attractions. But that lead me to question my part in his thoughts, did he believe I could make him human?

We were told to go onwards, where a gaunt londoner (an actor) unveiled a dummy of Mary Jane Kelly, he spoke emotionally of the mutilations and who he thought "dun it". Blaming it on a range of suspects. Telling us of the "Saucy Jacky" Postcard and "Dear Boss" letter that were allegedly sent by the ripper himself. I wondered to myself if they used Graphology in the 1880's and if it would have told them anything about the Ripper. Sherlock would know. This dark and bloody section was then at an end and I asked Moriarty if we could sneak out as I felt a little sick, needing the cold London air.

"Gift Shop first, John." He smiled, tugging on my hand again and leading to another Staff door. He seemed to lead the way to the shop without any trouble, making me question how easily he was able to navigate as there were a web of corridors. He'd done this before maybe?

We entered the gift shop, which sold everything from severed hand toys to customisable London Dungeons t-shirts. Moriarty let go of my hand, looking about him excitedly as though he was a child. He retrieved a bottle of blood-orange flavoured drink from a large fridge by the exit. I was only just keeping up with him as he flitted gracefully past other shoppers and I limped after him, my leg had started aching a little. Seeing the confectionery in shape of body parts and dummies too, made me think of the severed limbs and body parts that I would find strewn across the kitchen. It seemed wrong that place like this would remind me of the person I loved, but Sherlock was not an ordinary man and I loved that.

I watched as Moriarty waited impatiently in line, his hands full of random objects. He piled them up on the cashier's desk, causing the employee to raise her eyebrows a little in suprise. I wondered what he had found that could be worth spending lots of money on. A couple of minutes later, he returned to me. Two London Dungeon bags in his right-hand and his other free, he took mine automatically and we left, heading out into the busy streets of London.

The cool air drifted down to my lungs pleasantly, releasing me of the hot, stuffy air that was held inside the Dungeons. We were walking away from the building we had left and it dawned on me that I had agreed to go only to the London Dungeons and nowhere-else. This agreement was not made with Moriarty, but with the Holmes brothers who had insisted that one trip with the psychopathic killer was quite enough. I paused abruptly, dropping his hand and bending over a little, my hands braced on my knees and head down. It looked like I was having pain in my leg, which was no myth- plus it bought me some time to think about whether to stay strictly within the perimeter that my friends' had secured or go somewhere with him, if he had that in mind of course.

Moriarty looked a little concerned, his eyebrows drawn together. I stood back up stiffly and smiled a little, feeling uncomfortable.

"You alright?" he said, cocking an eyebrow.

Time to see if this strange day with him was going to end here or continue.

"Yeah, yeah.. I'm fine. Fine. Leg's just playing up a bit, that's all. I should probably get home, rest it for a bit."

He nodded, then looked at me, his eyes shining playfully. "Or, you could get some coffee with me and get some rest after."

He didn't seem threatening but there was something about the tone that I didn't trust. It would be logical to go with him and I wouldn't be breaking my word to the Holmes' boys. I could also find out a little bit more information from him. Everybody wins.

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