Hamish didn't know if he was telling the truth, but he hoped so. He knew how extremely dangerous Moriarty could be, despite how much he had been hiding from his father and they never seemed to get along, seeing him dead would be unbearable to him.
Hamish felt how breathing became more and more painful. Describing the pain was difficult, if not impossible. It was like nothing he had ever felt before. The drugs were probably letting go of him and the numb feeling reached all the way out to the very tips of his fingers.
"What's happening," Hamish asked. He had to force himself to talk due to the throbbing pain in his chest. All forms of movement were no longer just a matter of course and he had to make an effort just to breath.
"You have about two hours left, Holmes", Moriarty said with a voice comparable with ice. He took out a cellphone and walked closer to Hamish.
"Ahh, Sherlock," He said. "You see, I've got something that belongs to you." Moriarty took a quick look at Hamish. "Not that it's very noticeable. He disappointed me."
Hamish could hear how Sherlock's voice was calling out for him through the cellphone. Separating the words from each other was nearly impossible for him, but hearing his voice made him calm down just a little. He wanted to trust his father more than anything, but a part of him told him that he couldn't.
"I hope he tries to save you," Moriarty said with enjoyment in his voice.
"That would mean that the great Sherlock Holmes has a weakness and it would be twice as fun to destroy him. And every single one of his so-called friends."
Hamish couldn't remember the last time he had felt this helpless and weak. It made him angry because he knew he didn't stand a chance against his father's old enemy. He sighed. Sherlock was coming for him after all.