Consulting Fangirl

Chapter 22: Mai

A/N Well... Um... This is pretty intense. By pretty I mean HOLY MOTHER OF JAM intense. Please don't kill me. 

All I could do was drink tea and nervously wait for John to return. I tried writing, I tried cooking, and I even tried watching Doctor Who. Nothing was working. My nerves were shot to hell, especially when midnight passed and John still wasn’t home.

I called him twice, but there was no answer. I didn’t expect one, but it was still unnerving. Sleep was completely out of the question, so I opted to just sit around and wait for him to return. He had to return sometime, right?

My phone buzzed from the table beside the chair. Blinking wearily, I straightened my position before opening the text.

           

Sent Johnny boy a little message. He was getting too close. You might want to come get him before he does something rash. –JM

 

With the message was an address. I knew it was a trap, that much was obvious, but still I found myself sprinting out from the flat without even closing the door, my worry for John fueling my adrenaline.

“Taxi!” I shouted. None stopped. I ran my hand trough my hair and screamed into the night. No one was listening, however, so I forced myself to remain as calm as possible and wait for a cab.

One finally arrived. It was only five minutes in reality, but my mind made each second an hour, each minute a year. I quickly gave the driver my destination.

“This place is abandoned, Miss, you sure you want to go there?”

“Yes, now drive!” I snapped at him, far past the point of kindness. The driver rolled his eyes before starting the car. It was a silent drive, but that hardly concerned me. I needed this time to think.

If Moriarty had sent something to John, it was clearly about Sherlock. Nothing else would convince John to drop everything and come, no matter the danger. The fact that I was informed of this made me nervous. Why would Moriarty tell me, give me an advantage? Unless… What if it wasn’t an advantage at all?

I couldn’t let fear stop me from finding John. Whatever the case, no matter how much danger I’m putting myself in I had to find him. I had to.

Moriarty’s P.O.V.

The room was dark. I didn’t mind much. Darkness always held a certain peacefulness to me. I felt in control. When I was ten, as I sat in my bed whispering all the wretched things I would do to the kids who mocked me at school, I called myself the master of darkness. Now, I simply called myself king.

Here in the darkness of the abandoned factory, I was almost giddy with power. After two years of silence, I had him in my grasp. Finally, finally I would win. It wouldn’t be like last time. Forcing him to kill himself wasn’t the answer. No, I needed something stronger.

John. I could see it in his eyes when I showed him the clips of John crying himself to sleep or staring at the gun in his hands. I could see concern in the great Sherlock Holmes’ eyes as he watched his friend suffering. The only way to make Sherlock truly pay was to eliminate the factor that kept him human.

“Funny,” I said into the room. “After all this time, we always end up together, just the two of us. It’s quite romantic, if I must say so myself.”

“Funny,” he replied, his voice cold and emotionless. “After all this time, I thought you would have found a new obsession. You always were insane, though, so it’s really not a surprise that you keep doting on me like a psychopathic schoolgirl.”

I clenched my fists to hold back the rage. It was sitting on the edge of my tongue, eager to leap out and strangle him. The rage was always there. I had to hide behind the snarky comments and clever lines so he wouldn’t see it.

“Insane is such a strong word. I prefer… Brilliant, keen, dedicated.” He laughed, his smooth voice cut off by a cough. As strong as he tried to appear, the beating my boys had done on him really left its mark.

“What do you want from me, Moriarty?”

“I was wrong before, Sherlock.” I started pacing around the chair he was chained to. “My goal was always to hurt you, to burn you. That wasn’t very wise. See, physical pain means nothing to you. You feel it, yes, but it doesn’t leave a scar like it does on most people. I thought killing you would make me feel better, but you couldn’t even do that for me. See I have a problem Sherlock, and I think I’ve just found the solution.”

I stepped into the small bit of light in front of his chair so he could see the psychotic grin spread across my face.

 “It isn’t you I’m going to burn, Sherlock, not this time. I’m going to burn him, and leave you alone the way you left him. I’m going to make you regret faking your death that day. I can tear down your world with the flick of my wrist, and that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to burn him and leave you alone in the ashes, forever.”