Playing Games With The Devil - A Sherlock Fanfiction

Chapter eleven: What Happens In Italy, Doesn't Stay

You're going to love Italy.

I can't stop thinking about Moriarty's words. What does he mean, I'm going to love Italy? I don't know what crazy scheme he's trying to play now but if he thinks he's sending me to Italy he's insane.

Well, more insane than he already is.

The best thing for me to do is just forget all about it. As hard as that's going to be ignoring him all together will benefit me much more than worrying over every little thing Moriarty says.

I'm seriously thinking about stooping back to my old ways. A bottle of liquor would be just the thing I need right now. A worthy distraction. The more I play it over in my mind, the more I want it. To feel the alcohol burn as it enters my throat. To lose all sense of thought and reason. To get so intoxicated I can't even remember my own name let alone Moriarty's.

I take a deep breath and try to repress the horrible thoughts creeping into my mind. I can't be that person anymore; I refuse to.

***

I barely get two hours of sleep. I found it easier to shut off my thoughts if I was up preoccupying myself rather than laying in bed.

I have been awake for about an hour and already I've had six cups of coffee but they seem to have no affect on me.

I make my way into the bathroom hoping that maybe a hot shower will help me feel better. I strip off my clothes and hop in. For the longest time I just stand still and let the scalding water pour over my body.

When the water finally turns too cold I get out and dry myself with a towel before throwing it to the floor. I make my way to my bedroom in search of clothes.

I jump when I walk in at the sight of Moriarty laying on my bed. I don't even bother trying to cover up, it would be useless. I watch as his eyes scan my body. "Mind telling me why you're here?" I ask in a stern voice.

"Thought I'd drop off your ticket personally." He answers. Before I can ask what ticket he pulls two out of his pocket handing one to me. I don't take it.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"No, you're not. We are." Moriarty says with a smirk.

I can't help but to laugh. "Okay, let me rephrase that; I'm not going anywhere with you."

Moriarty stands up after placing the ticket on my bed. "Our flight leaves in one hour. Despite what you might think I have no intention of forcing you to come. But I don't think it would be necessary anyway. I see that look in your eyes, it's curiosity."

"What was the purpose of sending Sebastian with that postcard?" I ask. "You tell me." He replies. I only have one theory. "You wanted me to see Sebastian after you had him beaten up. You knew I would figure out that you were behind it. But the chances of us just happening to run into each other were slim so you sent him to give me a postcard. The postcard, I'm assuming, had no real purpose other than to play mind games and to get Sebastian here. Well, how did I do?"

"Perfect. You see, this is why I want you. It was never to get close to Sherlock. Although now I do see its advantages, but that was never the reason I came to you. You are going to prove very useful to me in the future, starting with Verona. I'll see you at the airport." He says before leaving my bedroom.

I grab the ticket off my bed. It's a oneway ticket; how does he plan on getting us back? Damnit! What I meant was how does he plan on getting himself back because there's no way I'm going with him.

Oh, who am I kidding? Of course I'm going. I quickly throw on some clothes and begin packing. I grab a small back and only put a few things in it. I have no idea how long were staying but I'm only taking a couple changes of clothes and other necessary items.