Chapter 1

Erika woke up in a bed that was far more comfortable than she felt it should have been. Instinctively she snuggled under the covers, assuming that she was back at Thornton Place before realising what should have happened. She sat up suddenly before lying back down after an excruciating pain shot through her head. Carefully she felt the back of her head, feeling the bandages and padding there. Unsure of where she was, she looked around and immediately recognised the room. Horror shot through her and she heard the door creak open, revealing the man she least wanted to see in the world.

"Good morning, Miss Butler." The Irish accent and sing-song tone did nothing to calm her nerves, but she held fast, hoping her strength wouldn't fail her now of all times.

"Is this hell?" Moriarty laughed and smiled at her.

"No, you're alive."

"And you're not meant to be."

"Sherlock can fake his death, so can I; with ease in fact."

"I'm sure. What have you done to me?"

"I've saved your life, my dear," he said, standing at the foot of the bed. "I found a scientist working on fighting cancer and he needed some human test subjects. Since you were unconscious, I volunteered you. I figured it didn't matter if you lived or died. In fact, his drug worked. Injected straight into the tumour it killed all the cancer cells within it, leaving the healthy ones undamaged. You're cancer free."

"Why don't I feel as grateful as I should?"

The consultant criminal laughed at her. He came around so he was standing beside her. "You owe me your life, and that is exactly what you are going to give."

"I don't understand."

"Sherlock Holmes wants you alive. I want him dead. There is the most beautiful overlap."

"I'd sooner die."

"Ah, you see," Jim said, pulling a syringe out of his pocket. "That is the alternative. Either you help me, or you receive a lethal dose of Notechis scutatus venom. The choice is yours."

Erika didn't think before grabbing the needle from him and holding it to her arm. Moriarty smiled. "Clever girl. You're right, kill yourself and I can't use you to hurt him."

"I'm not kidding, I'll do it!" She pushed the needle into her skin so it was lined up on the vein. She hadn't pushed the plunger but he knew she wouldn't do it, and now he was going to make certain of that fact.

"Very well, kill yourself. Throw away all the years you just got back."

Erika's hand was shaking but her voice remained strong. "Everyone already believes me dead, what does it matter to me?"

Moriarty let a grin cross his face. "Your right, no difference at all. All of those years are utterly meaningless. I'm sure Sherlock would agree."

"S-Sherlock," she said, her voice wavering. Blood trickled down her inner arm from where the needle had slipped, cutting her. She fought back the tears in her eyes and tried to remain strong. "He already thinks I'm dead."

Moriarty remained silent, knowing that his battle was already won. He walked lazily over to the window and stared out, waiting. Not a moment later, they both heard the syringe drop to the floor. He turned and saw Erika curled up, with her knees to her chest, quietly crying. He smirked and walked back so he was beside the bed, facing her.

"Welcome to the company, Miss Butler." And with that, he was gone, whistling to himself. Erika remained there, crying for a long time. Her hands were pressed to her stomach and he body was racked with sobs. She hated herself for what she'd let happen to her and what she had done to Sherlock, but she felt helpless and alone.

It was 7 o'clock when Moriarty's voice crackled out over the loudspeaker above her bed. "Paging Miss Erika Butler to the white courtesy phone."

The fake American accent in his voice sent shivers down Erika's spine. The voice reminded her vaguely of her father and she let out another cry. She was prepared to ignore him, willing to remain in that bed for the rest of her life, when she realised that if she spent her whole life depressed, Moriarty would win. She took a deep breath in and put on the façade she had adopted since she was fifteen years old.

Ignoring the pain in her head, she stood up, the hospital robe slackening around her and, sighing, she let it fall to the ground. She knew there would be cameras watching her but she gave the impression that she didn't care about her exposure. She walked to the wardrobe and opened it to find a single outfit hanging there. She pulled it out and gasped, looking at the dress he had provided for her.

It looked almost militant with a collar that fastened around her neck and the dark black would make her look pale as a ghost. It was also short, coming to just above her knees. He had also provided her with some heels that fit her perfectly. She let one tear roll down her cheek before toughening up and doing as he was silently asking.

She dressed; buttoning the dress up to the collar so as to hide her scars and the padding behind her neck, and went to the bathroom to apply some make-up. She knew he was going to mess with her, but if he did so, she wasn't going to sit back and take it. Erika Butler was a fighter and she had a twofold plan. One, escape from Moriarty's clutches. Two, go back to Sherlock.

With a smile on her face, she pulled open the double doors of her room and walked out; displaying that she was confident and free, ready to take on the man who took everything she had ever had from her. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and Erika was a vicious opponent.