Am I The One That Got Away, Dear Sherlock?

Chapter Eighteen: Don't Trust Me, Sherlock.

It's been a four months since that dreadful night. I dwelled on breaking the engagement with John, distancing myself away from Sherlock. I had to move back in with my parents for they started to worry about my well-being. I haven't told them much about what went on, I gave the old, "We just didn't work out."

Moriarty hasn't contacted me anyway, so to look at the silver lining; choosing to lose John was for the best. I had gotten back into painting to try and keep my mind away. Though, it wasn't much help. Throughout my entire room were portraits of John and Sherlock from wall to wall. I was pathetic; still not having my mind made up on either one of them. Leaving him was the only choice I had, for it was not right to do that to John.

That is what I like to keep telling myself.

I let out a loud sigh, placing my brush down next to the palette of colors; yet again, another painting of John. I had gotten myself up from my work area to slowly walk over to the bed. I fell onto the soft bed, covering my face in pillows.

"It's for the best, Olivia." I muttered, turning my head to look out the window. The sound of the pouring rain had started to calm me as I shut my eyes to continue to listen it. "He'll find another girl. You don't need to worry." I could feel my eyes getting watery as I returned to cover my face.

Though I couldn't picture him with another girl. I was being selfish. I turned over onto my side, to just be staring at the wall. "Just stop thinking about it." I demanded myself.

"Olivia, you have a visitor." I heard my mother call out to me. I Sat up to turn towards the door where my breath got caught in the back of my throat. I couldn't speak; my eyes couldn't peel away from him. He was here. He washere.

"You think that?" He asked in a low tone, still standing in the hallway.

"How do you know where I live, where my parents live?" I asked, taking steps around my bed, to try and distance myself away from him.

"Dear," He chuckled, "You really think that you could hide something like that from someone like me?" Moriarty grinned. He took a few steps closer, fully entering my room as he looked around at my paintings. "My, such an artist." He studied them.

"Why are you here?" I demanded. I went over to the nightstand to grab my palette knife, yet the tool was not used for defense for it was dull.

Moriarty chuckled as he sat down onto my chair near my newest painting of John. "You think just because you aren't with the doctor anymore means you're off the hook?" He began to pack in tobacco into his pipe as he placed yet another grin across his face. "You really underestimate me, Ms. Teller." His stare shot chills down my spine. He mentioned for me to sit on my bed and as I did, he let out a puff of smoke.

"You can't get out of the deal that quickly, Ms. Teller." He spoke in his monotone. "I am a very thorough man and this deal won't end until I get what I want and what I want is Mr. Holmes." His voice picked up on anger as my body started to tense as it rose. He stood up, to tower over me, placing his finger on my chest. "You need to get back together with the doctor and lure Mr. Holmes to me."

"I won't do it. I left John to keep him and Sherlock away from-" My cheek stung, I was forced to look completely to the right for I knew my cheek turned red from Moriarty slapping me.

"I never wished to do that to a woman, but to a woman I own and won't obey, I must show her who's in charge." He spoke, placing back his glove on his disgusting hand. He straightens himself while looking back down on me, "It was not a request. It was an order. You will get back with the doctor but first you will visit Mr. Holmes. You tell him that you love him, give him something to give him the idea that you love him. I don't want him to question it. Then you will leave, without telling him anything and get back together with Dr. Watson."