The Little Mouse (BBC Sherlock Fanfic)

Chapter 10: Her Umbrella

Rose was sent to a luxury hotel and when she was told to get out of the car, Moriarty threatened that if she were to try to contact Sherlock in any way that he would know and she would be killed. She assured that she wanted nothing to do with him.

"Good." He said, then got out and handed her a key card. "I have a running tab on that card. I won't be back for a while, so do anything you want as long as it is in the hotel, and within reason, god don't be a breeding little whore." He rolled his eyes and on instinct she smacked him across the face with a glare, absolutely seething.

At first, he was frozen in shock, his face to the side. But then the corner of his mouth twitched up until slowly a grin had formed. "My, I wasn't expecting that." He said, cracking his neck; his eyes alight with sinister playfulness. "There aren't many who can surprise me." His voice was monotone as always but his expression showed amusement, yet he still seemed hollow at the same time.

"Then you should be around better people." She sassed, then turned to leave. She then said without looking back, "Expect a hefty bill."

Moriarty wet his lips as he looked after her then nodded up at a man who was standing beside another car which Jim was going to transfer into. He had to switch cars once and a while so he wouldn't be easy to track.

Rose couldn't believe some of the things she did or said sometimes. It was so random! She would just feel a burst of energy awaken and she wasn't shy anymore. Luckily, Moriarty didn't dislike her for it, but that was just a lucky break.

She spent the next nine hours renting movies, buying desserts, getting spa treatments, and buying stuff she didn't need from the gift shop, all in the name of racking up a big bill. But as she did all of this she couldn't help but worry terribly over Sherlock, John, and Mycroft. She frowned as she sat on her hotel bed, cross-legged, as she watched TV with a bowl of ice cream in her lap, grumbling to herself about how she shouldn't care about any of them really and they didn't care about her. 

An hour later a doctor came up to her room and re-stitched up her wound and cleaned it before leaving. She sighed then she jerked in fright when the phone rang. It was Moriarty no doubt and she was already on edge even though she hadn't even spoken to him yet. She took a deep breath before she answered it. "Hello?"

"Rosemary." Moriarty said, his dull voice somehow hinting at a blank smile. "Come down to the lobby, will you? We have dinner reservations."

Rose could clearly hear in his voice that these "dinner reservations" had something sinister attached to them. She almost laughed, because if she had said this aloud with Sherlock present he would undoubtedly say some sarcastic retort about her "stating the obvious". She responded to Moriarty, "I'll be down in a while, I need to do my hair."

"I'm sure it looks lovely." He droned in that Dublin accent of his.

"I won't be long." Rose said, her voice confident and yet... she was not. She hung up the phone then realized that she was clenching her teeth. She was working and acting in direct contrast of how she felt and it was starting to tear her at the seams.

She fixed up her hair as she said she would, and all the while she tried to figure out what Moriarty could possibly be planning. She couldn't conjure up any ideas. Surely Sherlock would have known, though she didn't know how. She sighed. Even if she didn't know what would happen she had to gather her nerve. So, any anxiety, fear, or tears that she might have shed were put away for the time being and she left the room with her shoulders back and head held high.

When she walked down the stairs to the lobby Moriarty whistled, his eyes dead as always. Rose was certain that he did things like this out of his own amusement than any actual emotional expression.