Following evening at 9pm.
"You sure you don't want to come too?" John asked Sherlock the following evening as he pulled on his jacket. "Greg did invite both of us."
Sherlock looked up from the laptop and shook his head.
"I think I would rather stay here." Sherlock responded. He really did not have any desire to be sociable in a pub environment. "I'm going to catch up on a few blog comments and check on the experiment I have running."
John nodded. He knew Sherlock wouldn't want to come, but he did feel he ought to check.
"Right, well, I'll be back about midnight. Text if you want anything, OK?"
Sherlock grunted in agreement. He was glad of the opportunity for some peace and quiet. Much as he was enjoying the new-found calmer feeling that he had around John, his flatmate was being something a Mother Hen around him today.
"I'll be fine." he called after John, as the doctor headed down the stairs and out of 221.
John debated hailing a taxi but the road was rather quiet, and by the time he'd reached the end of the street, he still hadn't seen one pass by.
Might as well walk the few blocks to the pub now, he thought, shrugging his shoulders in defeat.
He hadn't got too much further down the road when a black town car pulled up.
Bloody Mycroft, John cursed under his breath. He should have known that he'd be watching and wouldn't let John out without making his presence felt.
The car slowed to a stop, and John opened the rear door and climbed in.
As he pulled the door closed behind him, he heard the central locking whirr shut.
John raised an eyebrow and turned to Anthea.
Wait, not Anthea.
"Who the hell are...?" John was cut off as the back seat passenger raised a weapon to his head.
"My employer, Mr Moriarty, would love to meet you."
"Sebby!" Jim shouted excitedly as Moran pushed the warehouse doors open and pulled in a reluctant John Watson, hands tied behind his back.
"You've brought me a present!" His Irish voice sing-songed through the emptiness of the space, and Jim's smile broadened further as he crossed over to John who was putting up something of a fight with Moran.
"Jim Moriarty, I presume." John spat out, aiming a kick towards his captor but missing spectacularly as Moran swung at him, sending him off-balance and crashing to the floor.
"Sebby!" Jim scolded. "Please handle my things with care!"
John laughed. "Yours?" he asked, struggling to get himself back into a sitting position with the limited use he had of his arms.
Jim crouched down alongside the doctor, grabbing his chin with his hand and forcing him to look in his eyes.
"Well, well, Doctor Watson," he began, "You are a feisty one, aren't you? I'm starting to see what Sherlock sees in you now."
Jim roughly released John's face, stood up and began pacing across the warehouse.
"You don't scare me, Mr Moriarty." John shuffled himself back across the floor, leaning against the wall to relieve some of the pressure on his back and shoulders.
Jim stopped in his tracks and turned on the spot to face John again.
"I should!" he shouted, showing rather more anger than he had intended. "I can burn you." he continued, once again crossing to John's position.
"Sherlock Holmes is MINE!" Jim growled, his face mere centimetres away from John's own, "Do not underestimate me, Doctor Watson," he continued, "I have killed before to keep my Sherly, and I will not hesitate to do it again!"
Jim clenched his fists at his side, standing and taking a long deep breath in an attempt to control his anger. He needed to keep calm or this wouldn't go to plan. If he killed John now, it would be too much, too soon. It wouldn't work. He would lose his leverage and in doing so, he would lose Sherlock. Again.
John just sat, quietly shaking his head.
"Has Sherlock told you nothing about me, John? Nothing at all? He should have learned the first time. In university, there was a girl. A girl. Can you believe that?"
John sat silently staring, allowing Jim to carry on with his tirade as he paced.
"She threatened to get in the way. To get between me and my Sherly. She dared..." Jim took another calming breath. "She dared to come between us."
Jim swung back around to face John again.
"I did warn him. I warned him what would happen. I arranged for Suzette's demise, and I can certainly arrange for yours... Doctor Watson."
Jim's whole body resonated with an intense anger that he was struggling to control and he hated it. Jim hated how out of control Sherlock made him feel.
He threw a punch at John, catching him low, between his cheekbone and jaw, knocking him sideways slightly.
It helped; lessened the pain; the anger. He swung a second time, landing his fist against John's nose and hearing a gut-wrenching crack as John doubled over.
"I do hate getting my hands dirty, John. I really do. But don't you see what Sherly drives me to? I won't be made a fool of again."
Jim stood and straightened himself out, once more giving the impression of calm and control.
"Right, Sebby." he barked at Moran who was stood close by with his pistol still aimed at the doctor, just in case, "Be a dear and get Sherlock on the phone for me, would you? I think it's time he realised just how serious I am."