A Gift

The world seemed to go blank as I stood there, open-mouthed, wide-eyed. Everything was twisting and warping out of focus and I felt like a savage, a delinquent. I took a deep breath, closing my eyes and forcing them back open again. I hoped that things would change, in those seconds of shut eye, that I wouldn't be stood inbetween the two parties. But I was.

I looked down at the cigerette in my hands as though it were poison, angry and bewildered with myself. I dropped it, seeking some form of reassurance though I knew I was to receive none. I longed for Sherlock, for him to be coiled around me and speaking words of ease. I knew he wanted that too. Above his disapproval of my actions, his love didn't falter, I could tell that from his face. He looked angry yes, but he wasn't directing that at me. His eyes scorched with bitter hatred and they were directed at Moriarty. The man who had cleverly lead me a stray.

Silence seemed to fall about thick and heavy. It threaded itself with every atom of the air and it felt almost choking, like smoke. That was exactly how I felt. I felt consumed by the poison I had so willingly taken, sick at the thought of allowing myself to have been so foolish.

I reluctantly looked at my friends and my enemies, stood in what seemed like a dramatic Western showdown. Sherlock and Moriarty seemed to be interlocked in a stare. It was as though they were having some kind of silent battle, a battle to which only they could see or hear, as though it were on but one wavelength. Mycroft looked impatient, casting glances between Lestrade, Moriarty and Moran. Lestrade seemed to be searching for something, he looked as though he was on an entirely different frequency all together.

Moran seemed to sense this and smirked to himself. "I believe we haven't met, Inspector." he looked in Lestrade's direction. "My name is Sebastian Moran."

The name seemed to strike a bell in his head, naturally. As the Chief Inspector of Scotland Yard, James Moriarty's second in command was bound to have had a name.

"You evaded death, it would seem." Mycroft interjected, sounding bored but his ice cold eyes piercing the room all the same.

I felt confused at that point, as up until today I hadn't known who this man was at all. I had naturally, assumed that Moriarty still had a web of people, but I didn't believe it would do well to dwell on such notions. Especially since it would only bring me back to imaginations of Sherlock's activities while he was absent.

"Indeed. It would seem even your little brother could not finish me off for good." His voice practically hummed with pleasure, a smirk unwavering from his face. Sherlock broke his gaze with Moriarty to throw him an undoubtedly terrifying look. Moran seemed to recoil slightly, but the flicker of intimidation seemed to etch upon his face for only a few seconds. Moriarty nudged him almost unnoticeably with his arm, forcing him to go back to smirking.

Moriarty laughed a little, taking it upon himself to stroll around Moran and walk near me, lingering as he hovered around my neck, causing tension to roll through my body like a network of dominoes. He breathed slightly and I could feel his gaze upon me. I remained still, not giving him the satisfaction of having a visible effect, my mouth compressed into a straight line. As he did this, I cast a glance over to Sherlock who's eyes seemed to be positively glowing with a mixture of jealousy and anger at Moriarty's behaviour. Upon catching my eye, he seemed to ease a little though. Which ultimately, made me feel a little easier about the whole horrid business. At least out of all of this, the connection between Sherlock and I was not impared.

"Now that we're all gathered and we're all stayin' alive," he sung the last two words as the Bee Gees had, his eyes menacing and his lips twitching upwards in a discomforting smile. "we should get down to what this is all really about." His accent only seemed to emphasise his madness and he moved around the room so he circulated around each and every one of us, eventually returning back to Moran.

"You've all had your turn and Daddy's had enough now!" He looked at Moran and they laughed a little with each other, turning back to the trio with emotionless eyes.

"Even dying wouldn't shake you off, Sherlock. But fairs fair, you had a good time with him and now we want our turn."

Sherlock seemed to move forward, keeping calm and composed, which meant that he had already deduced what was about to happen.

"What is it that you want?" Mycroft asked, his voice authoritative.

"Obvious, isn't it?" Moriarty rolled his eyes. "Seeing as Sherlock didn't die, he has to pay the penalty... and I think it's time he gave me a gift."

"Which is what?" Lestrade asked, getting a little irritated with not knowing what was going on.

"John." He said in a near whisper, emphasising the word with only malice in him.