Him, Sherlock Holmes

Chapter 13~ A Lot Happened.

A/N

Sorry for the delayed updates. I am struggling with ideas and scenarios. These coming up chapters may be boring. TBH the last chapter and the one before was kind of boring. I apologize for that.... Please enjoy!

-----Willow POV--------

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I awake to lying in a awkward position on my bed. I sit up and my body aches terribly. I hear music in the distance. I ignore and get off my bed and look around, around my room. Papers of murder cases and Him. They all seem to be similar in some way. Moriarty is interesting, in a bad way. He terrifies me and I am not scared of a lot of things. He intimidates me. When I was kidnapped I could sense his presence. Not like he was there, but he was behind it. Asking me about Sherlock, talking about Sherlock, asking why I am living here.

I walk out of my room, shutting the door behind me. The music is louder as I walk toward the living area. Its violin. I walk cautiously into the living area. The music isn't sad, but not happy either. Sherlock is standing, looking out the window, and playing violin gracefully. I tip-toe to the chair by the fireplace. I sit down as quietly as possible. He doesn't seem to notice my presence. I listen to the sorrow in the musical piece.

Sherlock abruptly stops playing causing the strings of the violin to screech. It ripped me into reality. Sherlock turns to me and starts walking towards me. His face dull with thought. He sits across from me, leaning back, and plucking the strings of his violin into a melody. He closes his eyes. I assume he's going into his mind palace. I might as well go to my own as well. I am on top of a tight case. I close my eyes and it comes.

My thinking becomes rapid and easy. Everything is there. All of it. All of my knowledge and memories stored here. My thoughts are disturbed by the sound of movement. Some getting up and walking away. I presume it's Sherlock and I ignore. There is creaking on steps and a slammed door. he must be heading out.

Moments later the door opens again. I am irritated by all the noise. The steps come towards me. I don't open my eyes. There is a sudden weight on the arm of the chair I am sitting in. I whip open my eyes and turn to Sherlock to glare at him. It's not Sherlock.

My stomach flips and I can feel goosebumps chase up my arms.

"Nice to see you again." He smiles while chewing spearmint gum. I frozen in place. I feel adrenaline in my veins telling me 'RUN YOU IDIOT' but I can't. His voice is cold, he has a smile on his face, but there is no humor. I control these unexpected feelings and calm down enough to meet his eyes.

"Why are you here?" I demand sternly through gritted teeth.

"Oh no reason, I just kept thinking about when I was younger." His face darkens and there is now a grim smile. "When I saw the biggest fireworks for the first time." He laughs darkly. My eyebrows pull together in confusion. I stare at the uninviting face of Jim Moriarty, his gel slicked hair, his westwood clothing, showing no expression, sure he's smiling but there is no emotion behind it.

"Explain." I say narrowing my eyes. He shakes his head, laughing.

"Tell me Willow, whatever happened to your dear beloved family?" His Irish accent is filled with fake sorrow. I stiffen at the thought. I glare at the deadly man in front of me. He smiles, "What about Alastair, hm how is he doing?" I couldn't take him anymore.

I snap.

I whip from the chair and start to shove Moriarty against the wall. Knocking glass on the floor on the way. My forearm up against his throat, I start to slowly lift him off the ground, pushing him up the wall. He makes a laughing, choking sound.

"Tell me Moriarty," I smile. Then growl- "How the hell do you know about my brother?" He only responds with a dark smile. I pull my arm away and he falls to the ground. He looks up at me with his disturbing face.

"I won't tell you anything until you tell me everything." He laughs.

"Leave."

I walk away from him and into my room. I sit cross legged on the bed for about an hour. I hear the door of the building open and close. Footsteps slowly coming up the stairs. I ignore.

"Willow?"

I avoid any dialogue with Sherlock.

Sherlock walks toward my room. The door opens. I don't make eye contact, in fact, I don't move at all. I keep staring into space. Ignoring my surroundings.

"Willow." He's concerned. "What happened?"

I don't respond.

I stand up and try to slip past him. His arm is in the way. I try to push it away, but he doesn't budge.

"What happened?" His voice is cold. I must look extremely angry if he is asking more than once.

"A lot happened." I sigh.

*****