A light, soothing breeze cooled down the sunlit morning on the porch of Moriarty's suite. The blues of the Gulf of Naples and sky blended almost perfectly in his view. Bushes of pink and purple spread out on the cliff of Moriarty's hiding spot, smelled sweet and fresh relaxing every muscle in his body.
For anyone it would've seems as heaven down on earth, but no matter how calm the situation was, red lights were flashing in the back of his mind. Something was still off and Moriarty could sense it. He grunted annoyed by his own paranoia and swirled the glass in his hand. The sound of ice rocks colliding with each other was the only sound that caught Jim's ears, apart from the breeze whistling in the background and the hesitant footsteps of a fear filled maid behind him. The poor damsel in distress almost lost her voice, once speaking up to inform Moriarty that Moran was on the other line.
"He says it's important." She stuttered straightening out her back.
Jim put the laptop on the glass table in front of him and shot a grin in the girls' way, "Thanks, love" She was far off into the distance already.
Moran's face appeared on the screen. With an unlit cigarette tucked behind his ear and sandy blonde hair ruffled to every side, a mischievous smirk tucked at his lips. Sebastian sat at the kitchen counter of Moriarty's residence.
"I'm in Capri, enjoying myself, a nice strong drink and the view. Does it really seem like I could be bothered by work or spilling blood?" Jim sounded irritated by Moran's tries of contacting him, but if he went through so much, it must be important. If not, he knows how that ends.
"Having a glimpse of heaven are we, sir?" Sebastian mocked Jim's dead status, not worrying about the consequences that he may suffer later on.
"Go on then. What was so important that you had to contact me?" Moriarty gestured with his hand for the man to quicken his pace. It made Moran hesitate for a second too long, wondering if he did the right thing, but yet again, Jim would've found out himself later and Sebastian would've become a dead man himself.
"Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall. Humpty Dumpty had a great fall, but yet, all the king's horses and all the king's men, still put Humpty together again."Sebastian mumbled too loudly sending the files for Jim to see. His lack of expression made Moran shift in his seat uncomfortably, waiting for his boss's next move. He expected a yell, or a series of curse words and threats towards anyone who was involved in this. All the consulting criminal did was rest his forehead on the palm of his hand and let a giggle escape his lips, with a concerned sniper and a recent picture of a rather alive Sherlock staring back at him.
"That's it?" was all Jim dared to answer with. His expression was hard to read, either because of the ease with which he hid it perfectly, or the sunglasses covering his dark eyes that reflected nothing but the computer screen. Sebastian was taken aback, but nodded slowly expecting something rather different.
"You can expect me back any time soon; I guess I still have business to deal with." Jim said rubbing his temples, "No smoking in my house, Moran." Moriarty pointed out before clicking the laptop shut. With silence filling the veranda once again, Jim stood with the whiskey still in his hand. His eyes bored into it for a second, with his lips pursed together. With a swift movement, he let the glass shatter against the wall.
The consulting criminal sat comfortably in the plush armchair. His blazer unbuttoned, hair slicked back and the musk scent of an aftershave still tickling his skin. A small bar was open revealing its content of various alcoholic drinks. For guests, tea was never served, when Moriarty was involved. The guest room, mostly referred to as his personal space, reflected the masculine side of Jim. Whiskey and expensive cologne lingered in the air, redwood furniture making the lighting seem much more dim, untouched books stacked on one of the walls, it all screamed business.
The door swung open quietly. Jim stood up slowly, adjusting his jacket to greet his guest properly. The consulting detective entered to doorway. The tension was hard to ignore. The two men eyed each other for longer than a while, greeting one another with no words being spoken. Moriarty decided to cut their game of stare off short, speaking up, his voice oozing of sarcasm and fake joy.
"I pleasure to see you again Mr Holmes. It's been dreadfully quiet, thought you died for a second."
Sherlock sat at the chair opposite, rejecting Moriarty's hand shake. The criminals jaw clenched, but didn't let it bother him for any longer.
Nothing was spoken and the clock ticked in the far distance, no movement was made by anyone of Jim's staff in the house, the lesser were scared to make even the smallest move for Moriarty to notice.
"Did you ever get yourself a live-in one?" the detective asked casually, his tone too calm for being in front of a cold blooded psychopath, but then again, no one in the room was even partly sane.
Jim nodded in amusement that Mr Holmes had remembered something so unimportant. Wasn't he the one who deletes everything he finds unnecessary from his mind?
"Yes, I did, in fact. Wasn't as dull as imagined it would be, really. Turned out quite…" It seemed as if Jim had dozed off with his thoughts, smiling softly to a recent memory, "How is John, by the way?" he continued.
Sherlock shrugged, showing no real emotion. "How should I know?"
Moriarty grimaced, "Oh, please. I may have missed out a whole chapter in your little book, but I've taken a peek. How do you think I found you alive in the first place? Sherlock, you're losing your touch."
The detective didn't dare to open his mouth, knowing his word would be nothing but spiteful.
"Want me to fill in on the newest gossip about little, old Baker Street?"
The amusement in Moriarty's voice and the Cheshire cat like grin made Sherlock tense up. Clutching him hand to the arm seat. "I may have accepted your invitation for another little game of yours, but don't even think for a second of getting John, or anyone of that matter, into this."
"Where is the fun in that? You ruined my story, I forgive you. Correction, I applaud you, Sherlock, almost got me, but my next saga isn't going to be half as fun without you and your sidekick, and there is only one way to get it done."
"Resurrect." Sherlock mumbled to himself, not really wanting to face John's shocked, pale expression, if he ever gets to see him again. Dealing with confessions, dark secrets, apologies weren't the detectives' kind of cup of tea. He visualized how their greeting would go, and words of hatred and hurt coming from his best friend were also an option Sherlock didn't want to face, but had considered.
"So, want me to break the news or you'll do it yourself, Casper the ghost?" Holmes said nothing, but stared at the man who'd shattered the lives of hundredths, possibly thousands of people and how easily he got away with it. Strangers he'd never met before or known. That must have been the key to his success. Snapping his fingers and breaking a neck of a stranger was much easier without conscience poking him in the sides. But who knows, to a psychopath like him, even the closest people, whoever they counted as, weren't safe.
"I'll let you think about that one." Moriarty answered himself, letting his opponent know that their meet up has come to an end.
"Does it bother you?" Sherlock said while standing up to look from above on the criminal.
"What exactly?" Moriarty asked sounding more bored than ever.
"How I got away with my suicide."
"Does it matter, you did, end of story, in fact, a magician never reveals his secrets. What is more important now is where we're going from there."
"I assume you'll be keeping in touch."
"Brilliant observation, detective!" Moriarty mimicked a false expression of surprise to annoy Mr Holmes, who had no answer for it.
"Sebastian will show the way out."
"I can show myself the way out, thank you very much."
"Just to be careful, something you should have been a little while ago." Moriarty mocked with glee filling his voice, becoming high pitched once in a while. It sounded frightening and sent a chill over Holmes's spine as he walked over to the sniper, who gestured for the detective to walk first.
Jim stood alone, with hands in his pockets and shoulders slouched, he waited for the sound of the front door closing and it did just as he expected it. A soft, feminine voice spoke up, which made his dark features soften.
"Am I interrupting?"
"Not at all, love."
Amazing author's note of awesomeness:
I'm baaaack, and with a cliffhanger, kind of. Is it? I don't know. I really hope you enjoyed the chapter and will still keep in touch with a review to let me know how it went? c: And a BIG thank you to anyone who had already left a review for me. c: I appreciate it a lot.
So I'll see you, hopefully, soon and we will find out who is the mysterious woman in the end of this chapter ;oooo