Pyro (Sequel to 'Burning in Water')

Chapter Three: Darling, that's tragic

Two things happened at once. 

The first: Darcy held her knife out in front of her in a defensive position, her weight thrown backwards to get momentum to attack.

The second: Moriarty stepped out of the shadows and into the small pool of yellow light cast by the old lamp.

'Jim. Fancy seeing you hear.'

'I could say the same to you, darling. I was actually looking for a Mr Oliver. Could you point me in the direction of his workshop?'

'Cut the crap, Jim.'

'At least offer me a cup of tea first.'

Silence.

'Fine. Do you want tea?' Darcy asked, easing out of her fighting stance.

'That would be wonderful, darling,' Jim said with his classic Colgate smile. 

'Then make it yourself,' Darcy grumbled, leading him into the kitchen. She was rewarded with a chuckle as she sat down at the kitchen island, watching Jim fill the kettle.

He looked good, she had to admit. Last time she had seen him had been in the court room on the international broadcast of his case. It had attracted quite a lot of attention, after all.

'Cups?' He inquired.

'Drawer on your left.'

'Teabags?'

'One across from that.'

'Sugar?'

'Yeah, it should just be in-'

'No, I was talking to you. Sugar? Are you alright?'

Darcy scoffed at him. 'Since when did you have a kink for pet names?'

He just winked at her, before turning back around to pour his tea.

'But I did mean it though. Are you alright?'

'Since when did you care about me?'

He sighed heavily. 'Darcy, was it not obvious? The games, the tricks - we're perfectly matched for each other. Of course I care about you.' Then, in a slightly more playful tone. 'After all, what would I do if my arch nemesis was out of the game for good? Why, I'd have to retire!'

Darcy gave him an incredulous look followed by a small sarcastic laugh. 'You're really something, you know that? Besides, I thought Sherlock was your arch nemesis.'

'I don't appreciate the mocking tone darling. And he was, but you were so much more interesting. You could say that I was infatuated with you from the beginning.'

'A fatal attraction,' Darcy muttered with a smirk.

'Fatal indeed. You have cost me dearly. I have lost good men.'

'Good men?' At this, Darcy dropped her pretence of playfulness. 'The men you lost were criminals, scum, the lowest of the low. They were nothing,' she hissed. 'I saved families, sisters, brothers. People your men threatened, killed. Owen Jensen, you remember him? He held a family of four in their apartment for four days, torturing them before eventually killing them. One. After. The. Other. Do you know how old their children were? Three and seven. THREE AND SEVEN,' her voice raised to the point of screaming, before returning to a cold low tone, that was even more dangerous. 'So my apologies, darling, that's tragic.'

He seemed stunned into silence, not having expected this outburst. Perhaps it was her isolation getting to her, or perhaps...

He hadn't travelled across the country for perhaps. He turned to her.

In a voice that to Darcy sounded truly broken, 

'Even the Devil was once an angel. Perhaps he has just been looking for his redemption.'

Then there was silence.