Holmes' Book Of One Shots

So Much To Do

TRIGGER WARNING: RAPE, VIOLENCE, AND ALSO VIOLENT RAPE. IMPLIED, BUT STILL EXTREMELY, EXTREMELY STRONG. IF THIS BOTHERS YOU, PLEASE CLICK AWAY NOW.

Prompt by sherlolly-is-jolly

He knew something was off the moment he walked into the vestibule and saw Sebastian Moran sitting at the bottom of the steps, his Horhe pistol – which he had brought back from his recent trip to Russia – in his hand. A smirk formed on his lips as he looked up at Jim Moriarty.

"Pleased?" Jim asked.

"Brought you a treat," Sebastian said, standing up, "all the way from Bart's."

"A treat from Bart's, hm?" Jim smirked. "There are two ways this could go, both pleasing just the same. Where?"

"Upstairs." Sebastian jerked his head towards the stairs. "You can't miss it."

Jim snatched the pistol from the hands of his companion and looked up at him. "I may be needing that." He began to go up the stairs, the Horhe held to his side, when Sebastian's voice stopped him.

"Make it quick."

Jim let out a laugh, a short one that ended just as it started. "Yeah right, Sebby." Even with his back turned he could tell that Sebastian was still smiling. He began up the stairs again.

At the top of the staircase, he looked to the right and saw the door to his bedroom ajar at the end of the hall. Of course, he had realized this is where his treat would be, and he began to slowly make his way across the hall's crimson carpet, sliding the end of the Horhe across the crème coloured walls as he walked. He could already hear the muffled cries and they excited him, physically as well as mentally. He gripped the Horhe just a bit tighter as he reached the door, placing a hand over the middle of it and pushing it open all the away.

Molly Hooper let out a cry, the cloth tied around her mouth muffling it as she began to struggle with the ropes tying her wrists together. Her wrists were raw from the struggle. Her ankles crossed beneath the wooden chair, centred in the bedroom, sat right in front of the bed with the dark grey bedding. Her mousy brown hair was a dishevelled mess, and her eyes were wide and glossy, dried tears marking a path down her cheeks. She squeezed them shut, knew tears falling from her tear ducts.

With a smirk, Moriarty held the Horhe with both of his hands, one at each end. The safety wasn't off, but he didn't give a damn. He rolled it over and over in his hands, taking slow steps towards the struggling pathologist, whose cries got more frequent and louder with each step he took.

"It has been," he began, stopping in front of the pathologist and looking down at the pistol, "about three years – no, four – since we last crossed paths. You've seen me on the telly, of course." He held the tip to her temple, and her eyes squeezed shut.

Whining.

Jim laughed and lowered the gun. "I don't see why you're even trying. No one can hear you except me." He kneeled down in front of her and looked into her eyes. "Though I will admit, it's adorable."

More muffled whining. More cries.

He raised a finger to her lips to silence her, and could feel her hot breath on the top of it. "Shh. Shall I explain? You see it really had to be you. I had held some hope that Sebastian would have managed to capture the man himself, but it can't be that easy, now can it?" He stood back up, sliding the Horhe into the pocket of his suddenly tight grey trousers and turned his back to her, began to walk towards the wall opposite. On either side of the door weapons were displayed, knives and guns of sorts. He glanced them over and pondered which to use first. He picked a knife, a small, but sharp, one. His favourite. He grinned.