Sophia Holmes and the Return of James Moriarty (Bond crossover) *Completed*

Chapter Eighteen

The agents lead me into the tall, glass building currently posing as Moriarty's castle and into a detainment area on the second floor. They uncuff me inside the cell and leave without saying a word, leaving me looking out the floor-to-ceiling glass window out to the Thames. 

My first instinct is to break the window, but then notice that it's the same type of reinforced glass used in the Tower of London so without a diamond, a piece of chewing gum, and a fire extinguisher, there's not much chance of me getting out that way. Plus there's the long drop to the ground which sets my stomach whirling. 

As I turn away from the window, I notice for the first time a picture hung above the head of the bed. It's a photo of me and dad at John and Mary's wedding, standing together outside the church with bits of confetti in our hair. I realise suddenly that that photo is one of the only few - besides the tabloid pictures - that we're actually shown together. 

But that's of little consequence right now, because ... yes! As I lift the frame off the wall, I pull out the wire hook it's hanging from and wind it tightly through the gap between the cuff and the button on my blouse, then pull my blazer down over the cuff to hide it. Whatever Moriarty has planned for me, that is bound to come into use somewhere down the line. 

Using the brass hook still on the back of the frame, I hang the picture back up on the wall before turning turn away and watching the opposite wall for the next few hours. Time passes slowly from morning to afternoon, each minute bringing us closer to the launch of Nine Eyes but without my phone or laptop, I'm powerless to do anything to stop it. If I could only get outside, I could reach one of his computers, hack into the system and shut it down from the inside. But that's resting on one very large 'if'. 

As the sun begins to disappear behind the London skyline, I hear the sound of footsteps in the corridor outside my cell and my eyes fly open as the door opens. 

"You should wear a dress more often," Moriarty says, nodding to the picture above the bed. "It suits you."

"Makes it harder to kick your arse though," I reply, moving forward. 

He laughs, then nods to the door. "Come on, I've got something to show you."

He turns and heads out, not waiting for me but leaving the door open for me to follow a few seconds later, well aware that I could be walking into a trap. 

"Lovely place you've got here," I say nonchalantly.

"Yeah. It's amazing the things one can do when they have the British government at their mercy."

"You're supposed to be dead. How exactly did you go about extracting dirt on the government?"

Moriarty frowns, apparently stunned. "But I thought you met Magnussen? Didn't daddy shoot his face off? They had a meeting about it this morning - cleared of all charges. Apparently some 'over-eager squaddie with an itchy trigger finger' killed him. Your uncle's words, not mine."

"That would have been a closed meeting, no more than five people in attendance. How can you know what happened?"

He grins. "I know everything. Every camera and every speaker in every house and every office - I have the key to them all."

"But you still don't join in?"

"I don't think you quite understand..."

"Oh I think I do. You sit back and watch cities burn and people burn so that you can convince governments to join an intelligence network you'll profit from. It's not complicated. I'm guessing Oberhauser and Magnussen and the rest are your - what? Disciples?"

"You could say that."

"What do they get out of it?"

"Nothing. They're visionaries, like me."

"Visionaries? Psychiatric wards are full of visionaries."

He stops walking as we reach a door and he rests his hand on the handle. "And graveyards are full of people who got in their way." The door opens, revealing a clinically white room with nothing but a chair with straps, a computer and desk, and a large piece of machinery.

My body stiffens. "What is that?"

"You know, back when we started our little game of ours, it was fun," Moriarty said, striding forward into the room. "But then it got boring. You don't matter anymore, Sophie. None of you do. Your dad, Doctor Watson, Mrs Watson; none of you matter. I was willing to let you live, but it seems you can't leave me alone, so I'm afraid I have no other choice."

He nods to someone behind me and a second later, something heavy collides with the side of my head.