Playing Games With The Devil - A Sherlock Fanfiction

Chapter eight: Stories Unfolded

The kiss is a very quick one. It hardly lasts ten seconds before I finally come to my senses and pull away.

But I just can't shake the feeling that I enjoyed it.

Moriarty tasted sweet, like gum. When I had kissed him he didn't hesitate to kiss me back. His lips dominated my own driving me crazy. He kissed so forcefully, with a demanding need. My lips are now sore and definitely swollen.

Amusement flashed in his eyes. Moriarty didn't say anything and he didn't need to; we both know he won.

"Don't give me that smug look. It was a one time thing, I can promise you it won't happen again. Now, why are you here?"

Moriarty moved over to my couch and sat down, I stood as far away from him as possible.

"I came to say I no longer require anything from you. You've failed with Sherlock so many times I don't see the usefulness of you anymore." He gets back up and walks over to me.

"But this," he waves a finger in between the two of us. "Was fun. We should do it again some time." Moriarty adds whispering in my ear. His warm breath against my neck sends shivers down my spine. He gives me a wink before leaving.

I let out the breath I didn't even know I was holding and lean back on the wall closing my eyes. My emotions are running rapid. I'm not sure if I want to scream in anger or cry in frustration.

I'm absolutely disgusted with myself.

***

It's been two weeks and I haven't left the flat. Other than the night Moriarty came no other person has stopped by. I was for sure Sherlock would at some point but he never did.

Currently, I am laying on my bed repeatedly throwing my phone in the air and catching it.

My phone rings startling me and I drop it on my face. Cursing I grab the phone and answer it.

"Hello?"

"Hi, this is Renne right?"

I didn't recognise the voice.

"Um, who is this?"

"It's Molly. You haven't shown up for work in a while, I thought something might be wrong so I decided to call."

Shit. How could I have forgotten about working at Barts?

"Oh, yes, everything is fine. I just... I wasn't feeling well, stomach flew." I lie.

"Are you feeling any better?" Her voice sounds kind and pleasant.

"Yeah I'm fine now, but I don't know if I'll be coming back to work."

"Why not?"

Molly is very persistent.

"Talk to Sherlock. He'll explain everything." I tell her not wanting to continue this conversation anymore.

"Sherlock? Has he said something? He can be very rude sometimes but you just have to ignore it."

"No, it's nothing like that. Just ask him, I have to go." I hang up the phone before she can reply. But I somewhat regret it. In the current mood I'm in it would be nice to have someone to talk to, someone who would understand.

I've alienated myself from just about everyone I used to call a friend in the past year. And even though being alone really doesn't bother me I occasionally just need a person to turn to.

And then a thought crosses my mind, or more accurately, a person.

But I can't go to him, I just can't. I would be crazy to. However, I can't deny the part of me that really wants to see him.