Ahhhhhh! Cliffhanger! I meant to upload this a while ago, but whoops! Here you go!

Ch. 8

Bowie woke up in a completely dark room. A headache tore through her brain and her wrists were bound tightly to he ankles by a single length of rope. She lifted her head and blinked several times before she could make out her surroundings. The room was cold, and seemingly empty, and she did not see a door, looking above her, she realized the wall she was seated against was, in fact, the only door.

"Hello hello hello. I see you're awake." A voice called from across the void. Bowie knew that voice. I wont hurt you... much. She began to struggle against the rope as a spotlight flickered on, and Jim Moriarty stepped into it. Her wrists burned from the rough fibres and tears flooded her eyes.

"Please don't hurt me." She tried to squeak, but the words were held back by the duct tape across her mouth. Jim Moriarty made his way slowly across the concrete flooring towards his captive.

"Don't know why they bothered with this." He said, ripping the tape off. It peeled away skin on her lip. "You were asleep anyways." She licked her lips as the coppery taste of blood tricked in to her mouth.

"Whats going on?" Bowie asked, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"Just the usual." He shrugged. "Just getting to know you better, considering I almost killed you when you were young. And now I'm going to kill you anyways. Its more fun this way." His smile sent shivers down her spine.

"Why did you kill my parents? What did those policemen do to get killed?" she asked, pushing herself against the closed door.

"You don't even bother with introduction? How rude. I would think Sherlock would teach you better, but I suppose we both know exactly who the other is. Anyway, are you ready for my story? Your father…" he began pacing to and fro, the spotlight staying directly on him. "… was a policeman. He was also part of my crime group. He assisted in most of the robberies and murders I directed, but after a while I noticed something; All of my little crime sprees he helped with, always were interfered with by the police. I took him in for questioning." Bowie suddenly remembered her father going on a 'business trip'. Even at such a young age, she wondered why on earth any member of the police would need to travel for work. Moriarty began talking again once she looked at him again. "He said that he really was working for me. But I got something else from him. He said that he had told your mother about his 'second life' as he called it. I make every member of my company take an oath. It doesn't do much, considering they get paid for killings and whatnot, but it is an oath all the same. I killed him for breaking my code, and your mother for knowing too much. I try to be as fair as I can, so I spared you. I was going to kill you eventually, and make it look like an accident. To answer your other question, it was because I didn't want a repeat of your family. Rather be safe than sorry." He kneeled down in front of her and grabbed her curl. He had mint gum on his breath.

"My father would never stoop so low as to be a criminal." Bowie said with utter hatred gleaming in her eye.

"So you're justifying me killing him?" he grinned at her. She spit squarely in his eye. Jim stood up and wiped it off, just before slapping her across the face.

"How rude, miss." He snarled. Bowie bit back tears. That was what Sherlock called her. She wondered if he noticed if she were missing. "I'm going to kill you now by the way." He said, kneeling down at her level. " I was so lucky you crossed paths with Sherlock. Now I don't have to go through all the trouble of making your death look accidental. I still like watching him burn you know. I want to do it properly this time. From a distance. Are you ready?" he pulled something from his back pocket, and Bowie saw the glint of metal. She knew all too well what it was. It was the knife that gave her the scar. "This is going to be so fun!" he squealed in a cartoony voice. His glee at the thought of her murder was one of the most disturbing things she had ever heard. Flipping open his knife, he lined up the blade perfectly to her scar. As he cut, she screamed. This cut was much deeper than the previous on had been. Blood seeped down her face, mixing with the tears falling from her eyes. Moriarty had just put his knife against her other cheek when a noise radiated from his pocket "

"Ah ah ah stayin' alive, stayin' alive"

He pinched in between his brows. "You… have got… to be… freaking… KIDDING ME! I'm going to answer this call, and if you are not absolutely silent, I will skin you alive. Understand?"

Bowie nodded fearfully.

"Hello? Who is this? What?" Jim turned his back and began walking towards the opposite wall. The door behind Bowie clicked open, and a hand went over her mouth.

"Do not make a sound." a voice whispered in her ear "Move over slightly so the door is free." It was Sherlock's voice. Relief flooded over her. Nodding, she slid clear of the door only to hear it click shut.

"Did you call someone? That sounded suspiciously like Sherlock's little ordinary pet." He narrowed his eyes at her

"Not a soul." She replied "When would I have?"

"Fine. Can I get back to killing you know?"

The door burst open and Sherlock stood in the doorway, firing blindly in to the dark room. The single light was still on, but Jim was not in it. He had disappeared in to the recesses of the large room. Sherlock's priorities changed instantly, and he turned towards Bowie, who was still bound and cowering by the door.

"Dear god, what did he do to you?" he said, dabbing at the blood on her face.

"He cut me. That is about it though." As hard as she tried, she could not stop the sob that racked her body.

"Here." he whispered, pulling his own knife from inside his jacket. Sherlock sawed at the rope before it severed and set Bowie free. She rubbed her wrists for a second, which were raw and pink raw from struggling. Sherlock reached behind a protruding column beside them and withdrew Bowie's bag. Feeling around inside for a moment, he pulled out her handgun and tossed it to her.

"Take this. John and Lestrade will be here soon, but until then, were on our own. This is the only entrance, so Moriarty couldn't have gone far. I'm going to go this way around the perimetre, you stay here and guard the door."

He began walking, his own gun held in front of him. She could just see his silhouette walking flush with the wall. He vanished behind the spotlight, and Bowie began trembling violently. She had been through a lot in her life, but she was sure this was the most horrified she had ever been. The dim light cast by the spot went out suddenly, and the room was plunged in to darkness again. Her hands were shaking and clammy as she clutched the gun roughly. Easing away from from the door, Bowie turned the way Sherlock had gone and cocked her gun. She hoped to God that Sherlock wouldn't startle her. A footstep sounded behind her, and a finger inched towards the trigger.

"Sherlock? Is that you? If you don't answer I'll shoot!" Bowie was surprised at the lack of quaver in her voice.

"It's me. I'm about 15 feet away. Are you ok?" Sherlock spoke from the darkness.

"Fi-" her breath hitched in her throat as a violent pain shot through her back. Bowie breathed in short, shallow gasps as she pulled Moriarty's knife from her back. Her vision blurred and her hearing was amplified. She could here Sherlock shouting for her, but above all, Moriarty's malevolent laughter. It echoed everywhere, ricocheted off the vaulted ceilings, and danced through her mind. Her head grew light, and she felt dizzy and nauseous. Vision disappeared altogether, and she fell to the ground unconscious.