Unplanned

Chapter Eleven

Sherlock was making lunch. It wasn't something he normally did, but he didn't really feel like doing anything he'd normally do. He could see Lestrade in the mirror entering the room.

"What is it Lestrade?" He asked. Lestrade looked surprised.

"How on earth did you know I was here?" Sherlock smirked and pointed towards the mirror.

Lestrade laughed. "Of course. Why didn't I realise that?"

"Because you're an idiot." Said Sherlock, turning around and taking a bite of his sandwich.

"Now. What is it you wanted to ask me."

Lestrade sighed. "Moriarty. He wants to see you."

Sherlock nodded. "I thought he might. I'll come down in a bit, you go on ahead."

Lestrade nodded reluctantly, and left the building.

Sherlock walked into the police station and nodded at Lestrade. Lestrade led him into the visiting room. Sherlock looked around. There were lots of people in the room. Some prisoners, some visitors. Sherlock could tell who the prisoners were, even without the orange vests. He looked around and spotted Moriarty. It seemed strange to see him in amongst a crowd like that. Lestrade seemed to read Sherlock's mind, which was usually Sherlock's job.

"He's under extreme protection. He won't do anything, don't worry."

"Wouldn't bet on it." Muttered Sherlock, though Moriarty didn't seem to be planning anything. He was slouched in his seat in a very un-Moriarty-like way.

Sherlock walked over and sat in the chair opisite him, his heart racing from fear. Only out of habit, though. Moriarty didn't look exactly intimidating.

"So," he said, his accent slurring. "Are you surprised?" Moriarty smirked, a little bit of his old self coming back into his face.

Sherlock looked at him calmly. "A bit. So what do you plan to do next then?"

Moriarty shrugged. "Probably just hang out here I guess. At least the heating's good. Well. When I say good..."

Sherlock leaned forward, trying to stay calm. "OK, enough games, Moriarty-"

"Please, call me Jim."

"-what do you plan to do?" Sherlock continued, ignoring him. "Because I know you're not going to stay here. What's this all for?"

Moriarty leaned forward, his face dead serious. "I don't have any evil plan, Sherlock. Not this time. I told you I loved you." He said the word with disgust, as if it tasted bitter on his tongue. "But that doesn't mean I plan on doing anything about it. The fact that I've fallen for you just means that I've failed. I've fallen in love with my worst enemy. So," He leaned back and puffed his cheeks out. "No more Mr Mean Guy."

Sherlock regarded him calmly. "I will find out what you're up to."

"For God's sake Sherlock I'M NOT UP TO ANYTHING!" Moriarty shouted.

People all around the room looked at them. The guards seemed concerned, but Sherlock shook his head at them and turned back to Moriarty.

"So what? You're just giving up?"

Moriarty smiled. "I knew you wouldn't like it. Now you don't have a villain. So you're nothing."

Sherlock looked at him for a long time. Then he got to his feet. Moriarty did the same.

He stuck out his hand. "To the best of times, Sherlock." He spoke deliberately, slowly.

Sherlock stared at him, remembering saying those exact words to his best friend, John Watson. How did Moriarty know about that?

"You were there." He whispered.

Moriarty looked at him coldly. "I'm always there." He dropped his hand.

Sherlock stood for one, two, three seconds. Then he turned and left. As he walked out of the building, he could feel Moriarty, staring at the back of his neck.