Sherlock One Shots

A Deal with the Devil - Sherlock and Moriarty

A Deal with the Devil – Sherlock and Moriarty

“Every fairy tale needs a good old-fashioned villain.” – Jim Moriarty: The Reichenbach Fall

John brushes over his sore wrists which have been rubbed down to the bone by the ropes that used to tie them. He looks around the living room of 221B Baker Street and wonders if it is all a mirage. He pats his body to check for injuries and looks down at the clothes that he is wearing. Several days old he thinks as he moves from his lying position to sit up on the sofa. Sherlock must have saved me he thinks as he rises from the sofa and limps towards the kitchen to find his flatmate who is probably doing an ‘experiment’. John gawps in shock as he sees Detective Inspector Lestrade and Sergeant Donovan sitting at the table whilst Mrs Hudson makes tea. “Where’s Sherlock?” John asks.

“No idea.” Greg Lestrade replies, slicking back his silver hair. “We found you in a crumpled heap outside Bart’s Morgue.”

“I don’t understand.” Greg and Sally look at John confused. “Sherlock must have found me. I was in a warehouse! Moriarty was there!” John shouts.

“Okay John calm down.” Greg pleads but John is having none of it.

“How did I get from a warehouse to Bart’s morgue…” John mumbles before raising his voice. “And where’s Sherlock?! Huh?!”

“John honey!” Mary exclaims rushing into 221B Baker Street. The pair hugs tightly causing Sally to roll her eyes. “John, Sherlock has done something…” Mary panics. “He said he was making a deal with the devil. I haven’t seen him since!” John flops back into his chair and tears skim is eyelids. “John? John what is it?”

“That’s it then.” Everyone’s eyes turn to John. “There is nothing we can do now. Sherlock has made a deal with Moriarty…” Lestrade’s pupils constrict as he darts up and pulls out his phone.

“THE CONSULTING CRIMINAL HAS GOT THE CONSULTING DETECTIVE. I WANT EYES ON EVERYTHING! CONTACT MYCROFT HOLMES!” Lestrade shouts down the line.

\~.~.~.~.~/

“Come on then. I let Johnny boy go now you give me the code.” Moriarty orders Sherlock who is sitting handcuffed to a chair, helpless.

“What happened to you?” Sherlock asks dangerously, trying to annoy the criminal. “Did the spider lose all the flies?”

“You are not going to use that analogy forever are you?”

“Don’t change the subject.” Sherlock instructs, his eyes fixed on Moriarty. This is not the Moriarty he knew. The Moriarty he knew wore west wood suits, had eyes and ears everywhere and was power itself. The Moriarty in front of him today is wearing a very tatty hoodie with a pair off worn jeans. He looks tired, like he hasn’t slept in weeks but the most important thing to Sherlock is that he has lost his threads in the spider’s web. “You have lost people so you don’t have access to the information you need. You need this code to regain power.” Sherlock clarifies.

“I could be prime minister and rule everyone. Imagine; people kissing my feet!” Moriarty shouts.

“Please don’t put that image in my head.” Sherlock sarcastically replies.

“Stop this now!” He swipes his knuckle across Sherlock’s face causing the skin to break.

“I don’t have the code. I doubt one even exists.” He calmly replies and hears a crash in the distance followed by lots of the muffled shouts. The police. “Run! I’ll give you a head start. Because you are right, Jim, this is a game. It is one you are going to lose!” With that James Moriarty rushes off out of the warehouse as fast as he can. “Over here!” Sherlock tells the police his location. He knows that he will be seeing Jim Moriarty again very soon.