Little Consulting Detective

9

Molly took a sip of her tea, hoping the hot drink would settle her down. She had been so worried about Sherlock but hadn't a clue what to do, other than talk to lestrade and Watson. Her phone rang and she picked it up, swiping to answer the call.

"Hey greg." She said, wiping a tear off of her cheek. "Are you any closer to finding Sherlock?" She askedz

"We have a possible lead, but-" the detective inspector said, but molly cut him off.

"No! I don't care if you have to round up a hundred people and search the entire country. Just find Sherlock... please." Molly said, shaking. "I'm sorry, I need to go. I'll talk to you soon." She added, hanging up the phone. She buried her head in her knees and cried on the couch. Her heart hurt for Sherlock, and she just hoped he'd be found before it's too late.

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Moriarty scrubbed his body in the hot water, feeling the tension leave him. It had been a couple days since he had a proper shower, and he was enjoying his time.

He could hear Sherlock crying from the baby monitor and finished washing away the soap, patting himself dry and wrapping the towel around his waist before heading to the nursery.

"Sherlock, what's the matter?" Moriarty asked, rushing to pick up his baby. He rubbed his back and tried to calm him, but Sherlock couldn't stop crying. The criminal patted sherlocks bum and   Could tell that Sherlock had messed his nappy.

Moriarty laid Sherlock on the changing table and removed his pyjamas. "Okay bubba, daddy's gonna change your nappy now." Moriarty cooed, opening the garment. He wiped Sherlock's bum clean and saw some pink patches on his inner thigh. "Aw, is that why you're upset? You have a bad nappy rash." Moriarty realized. He applied rash cream and talc and placed a new nappy on Sherlock.

Sherlock still cried, which worried Moriarty. He picked Sherlock up and carried him to the rocking chair, sitting down and holding Sherlock to his chest. He began rocking and kissed the top of sherlock's head. "It's alright, Lockie, daddy's got you." Moriarty soothed.

Sherlock leaned against Moriarty, and began to feel better. He pressed his ear against the criminal's chest and could hear his heart beating gently. The skin to skin contact and his daddy's heartbeat soothed Sherlock, and he was able to stop crying.

"There we go." Moriarty said softly. He retrieved a clean dummy for Sherlock and put it in his mouth, patting his padded bum. Sherlock clung to the criminal tightly, still listening to the other's heart. "Alright kiddo, let daddy get you a bottle." Moriarty said. He carried Sherlock down to the kitchen and pulled out a bottle. He warmed it up in the microwave and carried Sherlock to the couch, sitting and propping Sherlock up in his arm.

Sherlock whined when his dummy was taken, but started drinking the formula when the bottles nip was placed it his mouth. He looked up at Moriarty and cuddled into him, taking in all the contact he could.

Moriarty smiled down at his baby. Oh, how hard he fought at first, but now he was finally in his headspace. The great Sherlock Holmes, reduced to the mind of an infant. It was a brilliant way to keep the man in line, and now Moriarty had something even better to keep himself occupied.

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Irene watched the front door of the diner open, mycroft, lestrade and Watson leaving and getting into a cab. The cab pulled away and drove down the street. Just a minute after, a second cab pulled up to the diner. A short brunette woman got out of the cab, and knocked on the door leading up to 221B. Irene recognized her as Molly Hooper, a friend of sherlock's. She smiled. This would bring a new challenge to the game, and she was ready to play.

"M, it's me. I think I've found another person of interest of yours. Shall I bring her to you?" She texted. It didn't take long to get a reply from Moriarty.

'Yes, but do it carefully. Maybe set a trap, lure her to you. Have her here by tomorrow night at the latest.' Was the message she got back. 

"The game is on." Irene said. She replied with a simple 'of course', and disappeared Dow the street, in order to prepare herself for the trap.