Moriartys Girl - A Sherlock Story

24 - Rebecca

Late that night I sat on my bed with my legs crossed; bags from the various shops were everywhere on the floor, you couldn't really get in. The shopping hadn't helped me get over Sherlock's remark.

"You OK kitten?" I looked up and Jim had come into my room.

"Fine" I had to lie to him.

"Nope, wrong answer" Jim moved carefully through the room, trying not to stand on a bag, "there are way too many bags for you to be 'fine'."

"I wanted stuff" he sat next to me, bending his leg on the bed and the other out straight on the floor.

"Who's Rebecca?"

I looked over to him to see something in his eyes I had only seen once before; when I was tied to that table after he kidnapped me. What was it? Worry?

"I don't want to talk about it"

"I can find out myself"

I sighed and looked down to my lap, twiddling my fingers. "My daughter." I closed my eyes, keeping the tears in. I felt his hand grasp mine. "I don't like talking about her. I hate hearing her name. It just makes me -"

"It's fine" Jims voice was soft. I opened my eyes and looked into his. It was worry. Jim Moriarty was worried about me.

He smiled at me, gently rubbing his thumb over my knuckle, "that's all I needed. I like to know who I'm working with, and I prefer it if people are honest with me."

"Promise I'll tell you things from now on."

"Thank you" James let go of my hand and got on the bed fully, leaning back against the headboard, "So?"

"So what?" I asked

"Why did Sherlock see you?"

"Basically said he wanted to protect me."

"You don't need protecting"

"He doesn't believe that."

Jim sat up, leaning in close to me, and stroked my cheek "he needs protection. Remember the plan" he kissed the tip of my nose.

I couldn't understand him at all. Jim would be so cold and distant at times, and yet be so lovely at others. He would kiss me passionately, full of what felt like love, and others he wouldn't even kiss my lips. He'd kiss everywhere but; too personal and romantic a kiss on the lips. Feelings would have to be involved for one of those. He did confuse me. But I was drawn to him; he fascinated me and it drove me crazy.

The next day I found Jim in his office. I sat on one of the couches and flipped through a magazine while he was looking at some papers, again.

"Don't you do things by email? Text?" I asked, getting fed up of the meaningless articles.

"All can be traced" he simply said without looking up.

I got up and walked over, placing my hands flat on the large wooden desk. He looked up to me and smirked, "what?"

"Can we do something?"

"Like?"

"I dunno. Anything"

Jim got up and walked round to my side. He licked his lips before pulling me in, "I've got just the thing."

Opening the door, I slowly walked in. The room where I was first held captive. It was the same; well some other person was tied to the chair.

"Who's this?" I asked as Jim followed me in, locking the door behind me.

The guy must have been mid-forties, greying hair and an average build. His wrists and ankles were tied up and tape over his mouth.

"This is Roland Green" he walked over to the chair, hands in pockets, and stopped behind him. "He's been naughty". The Irish came out more in his voice when he was excited; and it was currently the thickest I've heard it in a long time.

"How?"

"By disappointing me" Jim didn't look down to him, he kept his eyes fixed on me, "running off to Sherlock, telling him little secrets. He thought I wouldn't find out". Jim knelt to his side and finally broke contact with me, staring at Roland as he spoke, "I don't like being disappointed. You need to be taught that you don't disrespect me, or any of my people. Unlucky for you, I don't like getting my hands dirty." He slowly stood back up and walked behind to me, grabbing my shoulders, "But Alexa here loves it. And I love watching her", he leaned in to my ear, "make me want you" he whispered "make me need you." Desire seeped through every word he said.

On the table there was a gun and a knife; my pocket knife. I picked it up and walked over to Roland. There was fear in his eyes; I started to question whether he actually did it. Jim noticed my hesitation and grabbed my wrist, pulling me towards him.

"You will do as I say. You are part of my team" I spat at me, "plus I know you love it." His voice changed as he smirked, kissing my knuckle.

I nodded and pulled my wrist out his grasp. I bent down to look at Roland, he didn't look special to me. Maybe that's what Jim liked; people that didn't look like anything so they could be unnoticed. I had never seen him before, here or around Sherlock. But that didn't mean he didn't go off and spy on Jim. Here is where my loyalty sits, no longer with Sherlock.

I pushed the knife into his knee, ripping the material of his trousers before breaking the skin. He let out a muffled scream as I pushed the knife down his leg. Blood rippled through and onto my knife and hand. I then moved to his other leg, starting this time at the top of his thigh and going around his leg as best I could. His muffled screams kept me going; his pain kept me going. It felt so right to be here, cutting someone. Having their life in your hands...