Moriarty's Musician

Falling for a Sociopath, Part 4

John smiled and Sherlock stared as Annabelle lowered the bow. She hesitated to release the violin that nestled so comfortably under her chin. John walked over and held his hands out to Annabelle. The loving concern in his eyes was enough to make her reluctantly give him the bow and violin.

"I never knew how gifted you were, Annabelle," he said with admiration. "That was beautiful."

John walked over to the fireplace mantle and placed the instrument on it. Still smiling, he looked at Sherlock who continued to study Annabelle quietly.

She looked back at Sherlock and frowned. She'd be damned if she showed him how much his scrutiny unnerved her. She sat down on the sofa and looked up at her uncle. "Please, can we get this interrogation over with? I'm quite tired." She looked expectedly at Sherlock.

He inclined his head as his eyes narrowed, still studying her. She was a contradiction, this niece of John's. Here he assumed she had an interest in music. Never did he imagine she was capable of what he had just heard. He had witnessed so many different sides to this girl within the last hour that he could not understand. He must be slipping. He sighed and shook his head as he thought of how absurd the notion was. Obviously, she would just take a little longer to figure out.

He had been so bored with the recent onslaught of cases that John always reminded him were his bread and butter. This girl may prove to be an entertaining distraction. Resigning himself to Annabelle's continued presence, he sat with an unceremonious plop into the chair across from her.

John took the seat beside Annabelle on the sofa and touched her hand. "Tell us, Annie, what happened last night. Why did I get the text from Jim Moriarty to come and get you?"

Sherlock leaned forward in his chair, rested his elbows on his knees and brought his fingers to his lips, listening intently.

"Annie," John continued, "You know who Moriarty is, don't you?" He looked at Sherlock, then back at Annie. "He's a killer. A ruthless, murdering, psychopath. He wants nothing more than to control everyone and everything. What did he do to you, Annie? Did he hurt you? Please tell us the truth. We need to know."

Annie took a deep breath and placed her hand on her uncle's. "He didn't touch me," she lied. "He was at the library after closing time. He asked me a few questions then sent the text for you to come and get me." Annie gritted her teeth remembering. "After he had me evicted from my apartment, that is."

"Annie, what did Moriarty ask you?" John placed his other hand over Annabelle's.

"Nothing much," she lied again, trying to sound convincing. "He wanted to know why someone with my talent," Annabelle took a deep breath, "was working in the library and wasting away, as he put it. He also knew my name and things about my past that I'd never told anyone about." She decided not to tell them about what happened to Nicky or... that kiss.

John looked at Sherlock then back at Annabelle. "What did he know about your past?"

Annabelle shrugged, trying to deflect any more questioning as unnecessary. "I don't want to rehash it, Uncle John. It wasn't important. I'm fine, and I'm sure I won't be seeing him again, so please don't worry."

Sherlock leaned back in his chair and smiled. "You're lying, Annabelle."

Annabelle and John looked at Sherlock; both surprised to hear him say Annabelle's name and his forthright declaration.

"Why would you lie, is the question," he continued. "Why would you not tell us everything? Something very traumatic happened to you last night. You're covering it up, but why? What are you hiding?" He tilted his head as he pondered this.