Fully Alive
Chapter Sixteen
Vivienne woke up in a dark room, lying on a very uncomfortable Army cot. She winced at the sight pounding in her head before sitting up to take in her surroundings. As she looked around the room, a man came out of the shadows. He had his hands in his pockets of a very nice, very expensive suit.
"Nice suit. Westwood?" Vivienne commented.
The man chuckled. "Good eye." He replied in his slight Irish brogue.
Vivienne swung her legs over the side of the cot. "You must be Jim. Can I call you Jim? Or do you prefer Richard?"
Moriarty laughed and pulled his chair out of the corner and took a seat in front of Vivienne. "Jim's perfect, if I can call you Vivienne."
Vivienne smiled. "Of course. Did you ever think about going by Dick? Personally, I always wondered how anyone got Dick from Richard. Well, besides asking him nicely."
"You're quick. No wonder Sherlock likes you."
"Are you taking notes? Think he'll like you more if you're like me?" Vivienne crossed her ankles.
"No, no. Nothing like that. Just wondering how someone like you wound up with someone like him." Jim half-smiled and crossed his arms.
"Obviously, it was his sense of humor and complete love of humanity." Vivienne rolled her eyes. "What can I say? I love me a sociopath. Think we could do something about this bed? It's a little squeaky."
"Oh, I'll see what I can do." Moriarty stood up. "Do you understand why you're here? Any questions, comments, concerns?"
"Nope." Vivienne replied, popping the 'p'. "I understand perfectly."
"Good. I'll come check on you later. I hope you're comfortable." Moriarty turned to walk out of the room.
"What I don't understand, though..." Vivienne's voice stopped Moriarty in his tracks. "Is why you didn't stay dead. There was no record of Jim Moriarty anywhere, you made sure of that. You could have faked an incredibly tragic death for Richard Brook, got yourself a new identity, and lived the rest of your life somewhere warm and sunny. But I have a theory, though."
Moriarty turned around, intrigued.
"I get it, you know. The whole keeping your hands clean thing. No one can pin anything on you. It's all hearsay, really. It's very... Charles Manson of you. I mean, we see where that got him, but I digress. But when you don't get your hands dirty, you tend to make mistakes. Or rather, the people who do the work make mistakes."
"I don't make mistakes."
"Well, I wouldn't go that far. But mistakes were made. The first one, making sure Sherlock was really dead. I'm assuming you didn't, because you were too busy playing dead. You didn't see him fall. You didn't see him land. In fact, only a small handful of people know how he made it to the ground alive and you weren't apart of that club. Meaning, one of your men was on the ground to make sure but didn't see what happened between the roof and the sidewalk."
"I don't make mistakes."
"Just because you say it doesn't make it true. Mistake number two, blood. Specifically, yours."
Moriarty inched his way closer. "What are you talking about?"
"The blood you left on the roof. Only three people, besides your men, knew you were up there, So the blood stain baffled everyone. And yet, somehow, no one tested it. For a year and a half, at least. So, when I found it and had the brilliant idea to test it and get your blood on the system, I found something out. Not only are you an ass, but you're part cow." Vivienne grinned.
Moriarty took his hands out of his pockets and closed in on Vivienne. "What are you talking about?"
"Bovine. Blood. Someone decided that cow blood was good enough for their bestest boss ever. What I don't understand is the fact that you were on top of a hospital. They literally have refrigerators full of blood bags and yet, someone thought cow blood was better."
Moriarty closed the space between him and Vivienne and grabbed her chin. "If you don't shut up, I will KILL YOU." He hissed sinisterly.
"No, you won't." Vivienne replied in a sing-song voice. "I haven't told you my theory yet."
Jim let go of Vivienne's chin forcefully. "Enlighten me."
"If you kill me, you lose the rest of your playing pieces. All of this, playing dead and coming back to life, is all apart of the game. And one thing you learn from spending time with Sherlock is that the game, dear Jim, is always on. And you couldn't handle not being in it." Vivienne chuckled. "And you know that if you kill me, you'll be running for the rest of your life, looking over your shoulder, and hoping that the next time you turn around Sherlock Holmes won't be behind you."
Moriarty turned back around and began walking to the door. "Is there anything else I can get you?"
"I did mention the squeaky bed?"
"I'll see what I can do." Moriarty rolled his eyes.
"Thanks. I've gotten kind of used to a pillow-top mattress. Could use some sheets, too."
"Silk, I presume?" Moriarty chuckled.
"Eh, too slippery for my taste. Satin, though. Satin's good. And an extra firm pillow. I like the support it gives my head."
"Yeah, I'll get on that. I'll be back later." Moriarty winked and walked out, locking the door behind him.
"Wow." Vivienne said to the empty room. "Already better than my last kidnapping. So hard to find good kidnappers these days." She pulled her cell phone out of her bra and stared at it. "Come on, Sherlock. How long is it going to take to realize that wasn't my phone?"
Sherlock pulled Vivienne's phone out of his pocket. In the for days that he had had it, he would pull it out of his pocket and just stare at it. He wouldn't try and turn out on. He would just place it in front of him and think. But today was different. Today, he pressed the little button on the side and watched the screen come to life. When the lock screen became visible, he gasped. "JOHN! Get in here now!"
John ran into the room as fast as he could. "Did you figure it out? D'ya know where she is?"
"No, but we can find her. She has her phone."
"Sherlock, you're holding her phone. She left it here."
Sherlock turned the screen to John to show him the picture. It was a stock photo of a field of sunflowers. "No, this one is a decoy phone. Her other phone has a picture of the two of us on it's lock screen. She fucking hates flowers."
"Maybe she had to reset her phone and just hasn't gotten around to changing the picture."
Sherlock ignored John. "Call Lestrade. Tell him we need as many men as he can get." Sherlock pulled out his laptop. "I can use the GPS on her mobile to track her location. When I have it, tell Lestrade. We'll phone Mycroft on the way. He'll know what he needs to do."
A hail of gunfire jerked Vivienne out of a deep sleep. She sat up quickly when her door opened and a tall figure stated at her from the door frame.
"Sherlock!"
"Come on. Let's get you out of here. Hurry."
Vivienne grabbed her phone and ran to Sherlock. "I knew you'd find me. Took you long enough, though." She planned a kiss on his lips as he grabbed her arm.
"Run."
Sherlock did his best to hold onto Vivienne as they ran and simultaneously shield her from the flying bullets. They were almost to the door when Vivienne screamed and fell to the floor. Sherlock fell to his knees and saw a pool of blood forming underneath his wife.
"Vivienne..." Sherlock breathed out.
"My hip. It's right above my hip. Oh, fuck." She winced at the pain. "Fuck, that hurts." She felt herself becoming lightheaded. "I'm losing too much blood. It went all the way through." She whispered.
Sherlock picked her up off of the floor and carried her, half running, to the door. "There's an ambulance outside. Just stay with me."
Sherlock kicked the door open and stopped, looking for the ambulance.
Lestrade saw him exit the warehouse with Vivienne in his arms and sent a gurney their way.
As Sherlock laid Vivienne down, she smiled at him. "I love you." She mumbled, before she passed out.
Lestrade took one look at Sherlock and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Go with her." He nodded towards the ambulance.
Sherlock was sat next to Vivienne's Josiah bed holding her hand, when her thumb twitched. The twitch shocked him and he dropped her hand
"Vivienne? Are you awake?"
Vivienne smiled without opening her eyes. "Sherlock. You're here."
"Of course. How are you feeling?"
"Like I got shot." She opened one eye to peek out at Sherlock, but both eyes soon shot open and she began to look frantically around. "Sherlock? Sherlock!" She reached out but couldn't find him.
Sherlock grabbed her hand again and she tightened her grip. "What's wrong?" But the way she was acting told him everything he needed to know. He could practically predict her next words.
"I can't see." Her eyes were still rapidly searching for something that wasn't there. "Everything's black. It's gone. I can't see."
Xxxxx
A/N: well, I'm just full of cliffhangers, aren't I? Stay tuned to find out more and find out if there really is (or still is) a Baby Holmes! I'm mean. I'm sorry. But I'm an addict for dramatics. What can I say? Review, follow, favorite! Xoxo