Chapter 2

When Erika arrived for dinner, Moriarty merely glanced up from his plate. He motioned with his head for her to sit down at the opposite end of the table where a meal was already laid out for her. She eyed in tentatively but made no effort to eat it. Jim smiled at this.

"Why would I want poison you?"

"Why wouldn't you?" The question hung in the air for a moment before Moriarty chuckled lightly.

"Because you're of no use to me dead."

He continued eating and, after a careful inspection, Erika did the same. She hated to admit that the food was good, so she buried it behind a supreme indifference to the world around her. They finished their meals in silence and remained in their seats for a moment before he stood and walked around to her, standing beside her. He held out an arm and, thinking quickly, Erika took it and stood up. He then led her into a lavish living room. He motioned for her to sit down on the sofa and she did so, him sitting opposite.

"You're certainly the most unorthodox of kidnappers, aren't you James?"

She smiled as Moriarty inadvertently twitched at the use of his Christian name. He quickly composed himself and answered her. "I have no reason to harm you, Miss Butler as long as you do whatever I ask. I'm only doing this to hurt him."

She knew who they were talking and knew he was aware she shared this knowledge. Erika wanted to know as much as possible, as was her way, so she prompted her captor. "And how does all of this hurt Sherlock?"

"Ah, you see," he said leaning forward in his chair. "Sherlock is a broken man; I've made sure of that. But when he knows that you're alive, he'll do anything to get you back. However, he'll be broken beyond repair when he finds that you don't want to go."

Erika was taken aback by this. There were so many details in his statement that she desperately wanted to clarify. What had he done to completely destroy Sherlock? How did he know all of this? However, these and other questions would have to wait as she prioritised.

"And how do you plan to make me want to remain here? Cure my cancer only to threaten my life?"

"No, it's far simpler than that," he said leaning further forward again. "You will want to stay here because I can give you the one thing he can't."

"And what would that be?"

"A future, my dear." At this he stood up, walking around the room clearly excited. "You are a brilliant thief. Together we could have everything. Money, notoriety, and above all, you could have a career you enjoy. No-one would pass that up for any one man."

"I would."

His eyes narrowed at this and he sat on the sofa next to her, a little closer than she would have liked. He leant in close to her so his mouth gently brushed against her cheekbones as he whispered, "You forget that I don't like the word no. You also forget that you have no choice. Like it or not, you will play this part, and I will burn him."

He pulled back and looked her in the eye. Erika could see the coldness and determination in them that wasn't dissimilar to Sherlock's. However there was something else, a cruel, harshness that flared in moments of rage like the sun reaching out an arm to burn the earth's crust. And there was that word again. Burn.

Despite her fear and hatred for the man sitting opposite her, she decided that if she was to be trapped here, she would at least make it worth her while. She would enjoy herself by doing all she could to pick James Moriarty to pieces, and fortunately it was something she did awfully well. Changing the subject quickly, not answering his previous demands, she spoke up.

"So James, do you make all your guests dress like this?" she said, motioning at herself. He smirked.

"Just the ones I know will make it worth my while."

"And did Miss Adler?"

Moriarty's eyes snapped back to hers from where they had drifted down her curves through the material, teasingly. His gaze was cold, yet somehow, disbelieving. He knew he had already betrayed part of his secret but was interested in what she knew.

"And how did you get to these conclusions?"

"Beyond the look on your face just now," She said with a smirk, "I recognise her touches. You wouldn't buy this dress, despite your clear taste; it's more of feminine choice than you're capable of. There is also the military cut that seems to suggest some sort of domination, seconded of course by these 5 inch heels. Then there's the designer, Alexander McQueen, whose fashion is stunning and expensive. Then there was the make-up left in the bathroom; lipstick shades can be very specific. Now combine all of these and you come to the dominatrix, Miss Irene Adler."

Moriarty smiled. "You're smarter than I originally thought. That's a new feeling. We might be able to have fun before Sherlock tries to whisk you away."

"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to play with your food?"

"No," he stated simply. He pulled a cigarette pack and a lighter out of his breast pocket. He handed her a cigarette and she took it, smiling at him without it reaching her eyes. She put it between her lips and he lit it for her. She took a long drag and blew the smoke in his face. To her surprise he inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as if to savour the moment. When his eyes opened there was a smile there.

"Addictions, intelligence and quite attractive. Perhaps you're not as ordinary as I originally thought."

"And how ordinary did you think I was?" Erika said, taking another long drag of her cigarette.

"As ordinary as him," Jim said plainly. "As ordinary as everyone else."

Erika smiled widely and put the cigarette out in an ashtray beside her. "Well, that says a great deal about you."

Then she stood, making to leave the room when she found herself blocked by Moriarty.

"What does it say?" he said with a raised eyebrow. Erika leant in close so she was whispering in his ear.

"That you're the most ordinary of all."

Before she could comprehend what was happening, she felt a harsh slap across her face followed by a tight grip around her throat. She gasped for air as she was pushed against a wall by the furious man strangling her.

"You be careful what you say, my dear," Jim hissed at her. "Words can hurt."

She tried to respond but the grip around her neck was too much. She moved her hands so that they were gripping at his arm, trying to pry him off with no success. Then she felt the ground fall below her so she had to stand on her toes to reach it. She gasped for air but got none.

"Now, tell me," Moriarty said, sounding bored. "Tell me why I shouldn't just kill you now?"

The slight loosening of his grip informed her that the question wasn't rhetorical so he gasped the little air she could before whispering. "You need us."

The hand around her throat disappeared and she fell to the floor, choking and gasping for air. Moriarty crouched down so he was at her level. Erika looked at him, trying to glare but only managed feebly. Jims face remained impassive as he said, "What did you mean, 'us'?"

Erika's eye widened in horror as she realised what she had said in her panicked state. Quickly she thought of an excuse.

"Sherlock and I." Her voice was croaky and cracked and she hated it. Moriarty shook his head sadly and smiled cruelly at her, leaning in closer.

"No, my dear. You said, 'you need us.' Who is 'us'?"

Erika stayed silent but inadvertently put a hand to her stomach. Jim noticed and a grin spread across his face. "I suppose I'll need a new nickname for him. 'The Virgin' doesn't suit anymore."

Erika let a tear roll down her cheek before he pulled her up, sitting her back down on the sofa. He sat across again and stared at her as she sobbed silently. They were quiet for a while before Moriarty said, "And how far along are you?"

Feeling it would be better for herself if she answered, Erika swallowed her tears and answered, "Thirteen weeks."

"And the foetuses' sex?" Hating the clinical tone of his voice, Erika bit her tongue, refusing to answer. It was then she felt a knife at her stomach.

"I can kill it without killing you," he said. She let a tear slide down her face and he said in a singing way, "I know you know it."

She said nothing until she felt the knife pierce the dress. It was then she whispered, "A boy."

Moriarty stood back and smiled. Then he grabbed her arm and hoisted her up by it. She let out a small gasp of pain before standing. "Get out."

She felt no need to argue and hurriedly walked to her room. On reaching it she found that all of her clothes had been brought over from Thornton Place but there were many more expensive pieces of clothing hanging in the wardrobe beside them. He had provided her with new clothes, shoes, make-up, books and anything else she might have wanted to make her comfortable. She also found a laptop sitting in the desk at the far end of the room. She ran to it and opened John's blog. There she read the entry about Sherlock's return without any mention of her. She was glad in a way. It meant that John cared about him, and Sherlock would be safe.

She logged off, creating a password first, and shut the computer down. Her head was starting to ache again which was to be expected. She changed out of the dress and into a silk nightdress that was laying on the bed for her. She crawled back into bed and cried, wishing desperately that she was back in Thornton Place with Sherlock sleeping beside her. She let all the pain flow away with her salty tears as she waited for the morning where she would have to put on her façade once more and be brave.