AN: hi again people, and thanks for the reviews and follows and such. I'm very flattered! I hope this chapter will be just as enjoyable as the first, though this chapter is very heavily dialogue based. Yeah I'm gonna stop talking and yeah, enjoy!
"Molly, dear," he coos, ducks as she throws a plant pot at him.
"It's nice to see you too; what manners you've developed. Sebastian's turned you into a right tramp I bet," he accuses critically, like a parent scolding their child for talking to the "bad crowd"
"How nice of you to turn up," she scorns. "After two freaking years!"
"It was just as pleasant for you as it was for me you know," he begins, staring daggers into her core. "Silently watching, as my feeble workers let that man crumble my web, force them to flee, start new lives, fake their names, die," he splutters, tips his head to the side where there lips are millimetres from contact.
"Do you know how that feels?" he asks, feigning hurt.
Not really. But I can't say that out loud or you'll probably skin me to death
"Do you?" he repeats, less patient.
"No," she answers more confidently than she felt. "And quite frankly I don't care. Stop wasting my time and leave," she huffs, strides to the equally sullied kitchen. It doesn't matter, since I'm gonna die I may as well say what I have left.
"Oh, that's funny," he exhales, follows her there. "Why don't you take a seat?"
"At my own house? No thanks," she answers. "But you can if you wish, in fact, make yourself at home; you've done a good job at that," she says, points to the mess that is currently her apartment.
"OH… that wasn't me," he explains. And she knows it wasn't him; he can tolerate murder, decapitation any form of torture, but not mess.
"Most likely Sebastian or Tom as you named him. Bet he was plenty of fun," he jokes. She conceals a grin because he can't win now.
Jim was right of course, Sebastian was a complete kill-joy. There was no time for fun in his books, it was all work and all action; pretending to be engaged to him was such a chore. Stabbing him with a fork didn't even release half the distaste she felt towards him.
"I stabbed him with a fork," she blurts out. Damnit now is not the time for small talk.
"Seriously?" he chuckles; a very good hearted chuckle; the only kind of laugh that can occasionally be drawn from him without any bloodshed. "Now take a seat."
"No."
"Oh for god's sake," he sighs, pulls a gun and lazily points it at her.
"Oh so that's why you're here," she sneers, already more than prepared for her fate, reluctantly sitting.
"Not really. And why are you the one that's angry at me? If I remember correctly…" he starts.
Don't say it, don't say it, and don't say –
"You're the reason why we're in this state."
He said it.
"I never thought you of all people would be able to ruin my plans. Or even act out on it."
"Well your plans were clearly flawed if mousy Molly was able to de-tangle it," she mocks, averting his gaze.
"Wow there, someone's developed a spine!" he laughs. "And very bad vocabulary too."
"What do you want Jim?" she asks, already feeling drained from his mental analysis.
Not long from now till she'll revert to her "usual" mousy state.
"To get you back of course, and deem the correct punishment," he emphasis the last word.
Punishments from Moriarty aren't exactly physical damage as one would expect. Finger nails torn out, eyeballs gouged out, fingers smashed to pieces; those are usually left for clients that refuse to keep their fair share of the bargain. Members however, are meant to fulfil tasks that would emotionally scar them, if they're lucky.
"I've already spoke about it with Sebastian, he thinks I should kill you. But I don't like that idea. Kitty thinks you should be moved to another department; but work without you is bo-ring," he explains.
"I'm flattered," she adds dryly.
"Don't be," he suddenly warns her. "Oh wait, I've found one," his eyes flash with delight.
"I think you should die after all."
The shrill ring of "Staying Alive" breaks the babbles in Sherlock's living room; which consisted of the Watson couple, Mrs Hudson and Sherlock himself.
He grabs his phone in front of him, checks the caller ID.
He's not really alive, it's not possible. I saw him blow his brains out before my eyes.
"Unknown number," he informs.
"It could be him," John suggests, exhales sharply.
"Not possible," Sherlock claims. "I saw him blow his brains; this sudden appearance is most likely a ruse."
"Oh heavens," Mrs Hudson whimpers, flees to the kitchen. The song gets louder and louder with every passing second; the caller clearly not keen on hanging up.
Reluctantly, he picks up.
"Hello?"
"Sherlock, honey, it's been a long time."
"You… you're still alive," Sherlock manages to utter, his voice hoarse.
"Mm, yes, very much alive my dear, just like you," Moriarty drawls.
"It's been very… boring these past two years, no? Wait a minute; it must have been very fun for you to have picked out half of my WEB!" Moriarty shrieks so loudly, John and Mary even flinch.
"So it is…" Mary trails off, horror bleeding out of her.
"But apparently you didn't do such a good job, because here I am!"
"I've torn down majority of your network in a time span of two years, while you probably spent your whole lifetime trying to build it. I'd be disbelievingly surprised if you essentially decide to resume the game with me because I assure you, I will destroy every single remnant left of that criminal network of yours, you utter Bastard," Sherlock threatens in one breath.
"My, my, that's big; even from you. And why is everyone so angry at me? For her and then you, can't a criminal even get a break?"
"Her?" Sherlock asks, immediately understanding the indication, scrawls the words "Call the police to Molly's house," for John to acknowledge.
"Oh yes 'her', the whole point as to why I called in the first place," he exaggerated each word.
"You see, while you were all busy celebrating, I decided I should fix little mistakes. You know what they say-"
"Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me," Sherlock finishes, watching John come back from the kitchen, gave his friend a firm nod.
"Yes exactly. And even though I had something totally different planes, I decided I may as well take the person who matters most to… you know… another life."
"Don't you dare." Sherlock threatens lowly yet ominously, only to hear a very unnatural laugh from the other end.
"Sherlock?" he hears on the end of the phone.
"Molly," he answers, his voice brimmed with urgency. "Are you alright, has he done anything to you?"
"I'm fine Sherlock, really," she answers solemnly, regretting this phone call altogether.
"Listen, I'm going to get you out of this, I promise," Sherlock says.
"No, you won't" she answers all too quickly. "And you shouldn't. There are other people in danger"
"Well those people aren't as important as you are to me."
"Really?" she answers, numbness crawling all over her.
"Yes of course you are, of course," he repeats, already making a move out of the apartment, with John following behind.
"Th-thanks," she answers, trying to hold back tears. "Just, just let this happen p-please."
"Absolutely not, hang in there Molly; I swear I'm coming to get you." He hears a hand thump on the phone.
"Well you better hurry," Moriarty says in a sing-song tune. "Bombs don't really dismantle themselves. In fac-" Sherlock hangs up mid sentence, going to a full sprint.
"It's Moriarty then? He's kidnapped Molly?" John asks from behind, only to receive a grunt in confirmation
"Didn't you say you wouldn't kill me?" Molly asks lowly, perplexed but not disappointed, holding back tears that are threatening to stream down her sickly white cheeks.
"Shut up," he barks, taps his phone furiously. "Sebastian, I need you and Sniper in here right now. Make sure the two of you aren't seen," he orders.
"We're going to be playing a great magic trick."
AN: I do this thing, where I get ideas and thoughts, and then I decide to write them down to torture people who actually read my stuff. Let me know what you think, or if i made really silly spelling errors! ^_^ i promise there will be lots of action involved in the next chapter