Code Name : Chaos (A BBC Sherlock Fanfiction)

XVII : Timing (Kara)

I threw my glass at the wall. I'd been stuck in this cell for a week. Escape was impossible, there were cameras everywhere and Moriarty had 5 men stationed around the cell at all times. I knew most, if not all of his plans, so he wanted to keep me monitored at all times. When I first came back from Russia, Moriarty set me to work, mundane stuff like interrogations. Then, he found out about Christmas and St Bart's. Believing I was a threat, he locked me in this place. It wasn't the imprisonment that bothered me, no, it was the fact that I was no longer able to determine what James was planning with Sherlock. Suddenly the door opened and one of the guards walked in. He pulled me roughly to my feet and slapped a pair of handcuffs onto my wrists. I walked in front of him, only to turn around when I heard the sound of a gun cocking. "Try any funny stuff, and I shoot." said the man. I snarled at him as he nudged me along the corridor.

 After 5 minutes of silent walking, we stopped at the door to Moriarty's office. The guard knocked three times. Seconds later, the Irish lilt came through the door. "Bring her in." I gulped as he shoved me through the door. "Sit." said James, gesturing to the wooden chair opposite him. Cautiously, I took a seat, placing my handcuffed hands on the desk. He cleared his throat. "Miss Dives, I have decided to overlook your - sabotage, of my plans regarding Sherlock Holmes. I am using you in my next plan. As I cannot, however, trust you any more, you will not be told what the plan is, until it is executed." he stood up and walked out of the room, motioning for me to follow. I felt sick. What was he going to make me do to Sherlock. 

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I sighed, we had been in a car for around 10 minutes and I had no idea where we were. I was blindfolded, to, ironically, keep me in the dark about the plan. Suddenly the car came to a grinding halt and my blindfold was ripped off. "Ok - now will you tell me wha-" James, who had been looking up until now, cut me off. By pressing my lips to his.

Emotions flooded through me. Disgust, fear, revulsion - you get the idea. I tried to pull away, but Moriarty moved his hand up to the back of my head, holding it in place. Finally, he pulled away. I moved to slap him, but he caught my hand with a look of warning. He looked out of the window on my side, then smiled. "Onwards," he commanded the driver. Hurriedly, I looked out of the window, and froze. We were outside Baker Street. The last thing I saw, before the car sped away, was the face of a heartbroken, disbelieving Sherlock Holmes.