Sentiment

Chapter 19 | Let The Games Begin!

AN: Thank you for reading. I've wanted to write this chapter from the very beginning. Solely because I wanted to depict how exactly Sherlock feels when Moriarty gives him an ultimatum, as I find it intriguing. Also, I wanted to integrate the poem 'Fire and Ice' into my story because it, too, is a fascinating concept. Anyway, I'll  stop talking now. Enjoy. _______________________________________

"Ah, Sherlock!" Moriarty greeted with much enthusiasm and warmth. "You came! I was beginning to fear you wouldn't..."

The detective closed the door behind him and walked out onto the rooftop. A cold wind passed him as he shrugged his flowing coat closer to his tall, lean shape.

Seeing his nemesis stand so close to the ledge now brought back memories of the past for Sherlock. The mental image of Moriarty putting a gun in his mouth played over and over in his head as Sherlock slowly moved towards his destiny. His own leap off the roof as well as John's terrified shouts also reminded him of a time he rather wished not to remember. If all went according to plan, their rendezvous on the roof would end differently this time.

"Sorry for my appearance..." Moriarty apologized as the other man remained silent, and indicated three, short scratch marks on his right cheek. They seemed to be the only flaws on his otherwise flawless façade, and thus like a thorn in the criminal's eyes. "I would have been impeccable, as usual, if your girlfriend hadn't lost her temper."

Sherlock's shoes clicked against the ground as he dully commented, "You probably deserved it."

"I did, Sherlock. I did..." his voice was dark and tantalizing. The criminal seemed rather proud of his accomplishments, as it was, and the detective rather dreaded the reason why.

After the events right outside 221B Baker Street, Sherlock had momentarily been dazed and hadn't known how to proceed. That had passed swiftly, though, as he had recalled the only clue he had received; the voice message on Irene's phone which had hinted of a meeting upon the hospital roof. Half an hour after John's abduction, the man was now grateful the mad enemy hadn't left that recording to lead him on a wild goose chase.

Though the tall man had not yet fully collect his scattered thoughts, his mind ran almost flawlessly. Anxiety pumped in his weakened heart, mixed with hatred directed at the criminal mastermind - but his mind palace remained balanced and high functioning.

The detective had already made a deal with himself not to leave this rooftop without securing the safety for both John and Irene. After all the wrongs he had done so far, that was the least he could do for them. It was time to ignore his heart - as he had always feared, it had led him mightily astray thus far - and let his intellect lead him to victory.

"Where are they?" the detective managed in a low, demanding voice as he stopped a few feet from the other coat clad man and the ledge.

Moriarty grimaced and a look of disappointment flashed in his dark eyes. "Now, now... Is that how we great our enemies? Calm, Sherlock. I thought we could spend some time alone. We never do anymore..."

The teasing note to Jim's voice nearly sent Sherlock tumbling into a blind fury. He wanted nothing more than to wring the man's neck but pushed his hands deep into his pockets to withstand all impulses. He had to remain impassive if he was to get any information out of his enemy tonight, and save his friend and lover.

"I'm not here to play," Sherlock spoke in a determined voice.

Moriarty's disappointed look ten-folded as he continued to play with his nemesis, much as a cat plays with its food. "Oh, come now. Everything I've done.. It's how I show my love for you, Sherlock..."

"What do you want from me?" the taller man growled.

"Hm?"

"What do I have to do for you to free them?" Sherlock asked and knew in that moment he was prepared to give Moriarty anything to settle this once and for all.