Side of the Angels ~ A BBC Sherlock Fanfiction {Book II} *UNDER EDITING*

Chapter 69- Cigarettes

Emily's POV

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"Bit of a public place for a breakdown."

I don't have the energy to be angry.

"Have you and your detective had a domestic, or something? You look pretty pathetic right now, if I'm honest with you."

You know what, maybe I do have the energy, after all.

"I'm surprised you've found the time to talk to me. Aren't you supposed to be shooting down innocent families, or something?" I snap, turning to look at him.

He laughs, but doesn't quip back. Instead, he settles against the brick wall, pulling out a crumpled cigarette packet and lighter-

"Want one?"

"No."

He raises an eyebrow, but says nothing. It occurs to me then that something's wrong. Although he's still obnoxious, dangerous and generally unpleasant to be around, there's something unsettled about him. He's angry too, simmering underneath the surface- but then again, he seems to be perpetually agitated.

It seems like everyone's tempers are flaring today. 

"So, how are things with Sherlock?"

I shrug.

He chuckles darkly, breathing out  a stream of smoke and watching it dissipate into the air.

"You made quite the statement back then, you know."

I frown at him, uncertain- did he somehow witness my outburst back at 221B?

"He didn't take it very well."

And then it clicks. He's talking about Moriarty's reaction to our 'perfomance'.

"I gathered. The mass homicides got the message across pretty clearly."

"I've had to buy five rounds of ammunition this week. Five."

"So you did it?" I say, inspecting the gravel pressed into my palm.

"Of course I did it. He's not the type to get-"

"To get his hands dirty. Yeah, I heard that before."

"Why the breakdown?" he says, after a small silence, clamping the cigarette between his teeth and drawing out a revolver, polishing the handle on his sleeve. He doesn't seem to care that we're only a few metres off a main street.

I laugh, harshly-

"Oh, nothing much. I kissed Sherlock, had my files deleted and almost killed Millie Shon. The usual."

He doesn't look particularly surprised. Instead he studies me intently, then grins suddenly-

"This whole Sherlock thing is a ruse, isn't it?"

I stare at him. 

"How did-"

"How did I know? I didn't. That was a complete stab in the dark. You just gave me the answer."

I just sigh,  too drained to feel much. But then a thought occurs to me-

"Does Moriarty know? That it was all an act?"

Now it's Moran's turn to look uncomfortable. The triumphant air of confidence has vanished completely. He stops polishing the gun.

"I've... run the concept past him. But he wasn't really in the right frame of mind to listen."

I don't say anything.

Moran takes the cigarette from his lips.

"You play a bigger part in this than you realise."

I laugh at him, and he turns to look at me, irritated-

"You didn't see him after we witnessed your very public display of affection. Now that was pretty fucking terrifying, and trust me when I say I don't scare easily."

I keep quiet, and wait for him to continue.

"God knows why I'm telling you this, of all people," he says, shaking his head slowly. His eyes fix  on the empty road, and he begins talking- "He started off silent. And that's never a good sign. Didn't say a word, for the whole day. Just sat there, watching something I couldn't see. Then he snapped, just like that, with no warning, He was angry, and of course I had to bear the brunt of it, listen to him threaten you, threaten Sherlock, threaten me-," he says bitterly. The anger in his voice is returning: "But I sat through it. I always do. Some of the things he says would turn your blood to ice- and that's coming from someone who kills people for a living. At one point I thought he'd really lost it. He just turned, and started screaming things I've never heard him say before- I didn't know what he was doing, shit, I don't think he knew what he was doing. And then he slammed out of the building, and didn't come back for hours. I thought he'd topped himself. You never know what he's going to do, when he's like that. Probably would have been better if he did. When he came back, he sat down opposite me, and started to laugh. That was the goddamn worst part. The laughing. Told me to follow him into the street, where he'd look around for a while, then point out a couple, or a family, or a person- completely at random, and he'd say "I want them dead."

"And you just killed them? Because he told you to?" I say, incredulously.

Moran whips round to look at me, suddenly furious-

"Of course I killed them. You forget that you're one of us, Emily Schott, and you always will be. You've killed people. We all have. So don't pretend like you've suddenly developed a conscience. That last one- they heart on the street- that was the worst. After I'd shot the guy, he just looked down at the body and told me to 'cut it out'. I didn't know what he was talking about at first. That pissed him off. I told him I was a sniper, not a butcher. But he said things, terrible things- so I did it. He watched the whole time. Smiling."

Moran is silent, as he stares into the space around him. I feel distinctly sick.

"It used to be fun. There was always that thrill. But since he met Sherlock, that's all he thinks about. How to play with him. How to deceive him. What game to play next. After the fall,do you know how long I waited for him to come back? Two years. Two, goddamn years. And he never said a thing, never made contact. He didn't care. He got bored of me. And then there was you. His most recent toy. But this time it's different- because you're the first person who's fought back. Who enjoys messing with him as much as he does you. And he's changed, because of it. He's more screwed up than he was before. He doesn't give a shit about me, even though I do more for him then anyone else- because of you."

He's shouting at this point, and his fingers have tightened around the handle of his revolver, and I know that he wants nothing more than to put a bullet through my head. His face contorts, and he snarls-

"He said I couldn't kill you. Not yet. But that doesn't mean I can't hurt you, Emily Schott."

And he takes the glowing cigarette end from his lips, and drives it into my hand  before I can react.

I hiss in pain as my skin burns under the pressure, and stand up rapidly, shaking the ash from my hand and cradling the singed flesh, feeling my own temper start up  for the second time today.

Moran gets up too, taller than me, and looks down, sneering-

"One of these days, I'm going to disobey orders."

And then he shoves past me, pushing me roughly into the wall, slipping the revolver back into his jacket and turning the corner, out into the street.

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