Chapter 5

Time seemed to stop and start in that house in Cambridge. Sometimes the days and weeks flew into each other and she barely seemed to touch the ground, but other times it dragged, minutes seemed like hours as Erika sat, waiting for the day to end. It was because of this that Erika was surprised to wake up one morning and find Jim Moriarty sitting in the chair by her bedroom window.

Ignoring the ache in her back, she sat up, looking at the man. He looked as immaculate as ever but something in his demeanour told her he wasn't there for a reason that would be good for her. She was about to lie back down and pretend to sleep when his voice cut through the crisp, early morning air.

"Boring, isn't it?" He turned to face her now completely. There was no hint of a smile on his face and he looked cold and distant. This concerned Erika. Although a psychopath, the criminal was usually smiling, albeit cruelly, but smiling none the less. Its absence frightened her. "Staying alive."

"For some," she answered, slowly. It was then a wave of nausea crept up on her and she got up, walking hastily to the bathroom before retching.

She stayed there for a while, sick and tired, before getting up, brushing her teeth and returning to her bed. Moriarty hadn't moved and he continued the conversation as if there hadn't been a pause. "For all."

"If that's what you think, James," she said, trying to end the conversation or bring it to its point. Moriarty raised an eyebrow at her and stood, approaching the bed slowly until he was standing beside her.

"Why do you call me that?"

"It's your name."

"No," he said, shaking his head slightly. "It's my Christian name. Why don't you ever say my name?"

"Formalities bore me," she said with a blank look. Jim shook his head again and sat on the bed beside her.

"No, no, no Miss Butler. They don't." He moved in closer to her, and Erika tried to back away, finding herself cornered. He leant in to her so he was inches away from her. "Say my name."

She let out a short, hollow laugh. "No."

He leant forward and bit her neck, hard, drawing blood and she let out a loud scream. He came back to face her and his lips were red with her blood. "Say my name."

"N-no," she said, losing her will. Again Moriarty leant forward but this time he bit her just below her ear and she let out a scream so loud and haunting that she was surprised the police didn't call. He didn't let got and yelled into her skin, "My name!"

"MORIARTY!" she shrieked. His name tainted her tongue and her Russian accent slipped through. He leant back and smirked at her.

"Say that again."

"Moriarty." This time her voice was barely above a whisper but her accent was still clear. He grinned at her, his teeth still slightly stained with blood, and winked slightly.

"You tried so hard to fit in, to hide your accent, and you succeeded. Except," he said leaning forward so he was whispering in her ear. "When you come across a word you haven't carefully rehearsed. My name, for instance."

Jim leant back and she glared at him pointedly. This only made his smile wider. "Don't look at me like that dear, it's not very polite."

"You think I give a damn if I'm polite to you?"

"You should." The harshness of his tone made her recoil for a moment before she regained her composure.

"You don't scare me, James Moriarty."

"Do you need another reminder of what I can do?" He brushed his finger along her shirt where directly below it, the initials JM glistened white against her flesh.

"You may be dangerous, but I don't fear you."

"Then you're a fool." He shook his head sadly. "And a fool's child is worthless."

"He's not worthless."

"No, he's not. But you are." To say those words cut deep would be understating the effect they had on her. She took a deep breath in to stop her emotions showing and forced back her anger.

"If I'm worthless, he is also."

"No, no, my dear," he hissed, leaning forward and pressing a hand to her stomach, now fully stretched. "You forget he's got Sherlock in him."

"But you said Sherlock was ordinary, and me as well," she said, sitting up in bed. "That means William is ordinary, and you loath ordinary don't you."

"Perhaps," was his only response.

"If that's true, let us go."

Jim let out a long laugh, throwing his head back. "No, no, no, I can't do that. You and him both need to pay me your debts and William is the perfect tax. You will stay, and you will watch him grow to hate you. Hate both of you."

"Never."

"No choice, sweetheart," he said with a wink. "You don't make the rules, I do."

And with that he stood to leave, looking back at her with a smirk. She made to hiss at him another cold remark when an excruciating pain shot through her and she let out a cry. Returning back into the room, Moriarty watched her for a moment blankly before a smile spread across his face.

"Well, well," he said cheerily. "Looks like it's tax time."