A Moriarty problem

Chapter 2

Sherlock confirmed his fears from his peripheral vision. Six (and a half) seats approximately away was Charles Augustus Magnussen. A worm who crawled his way into every blackmail and scandal there was. Maybe he was more lethal than the spider. Magnussen was head of a newspaper. Sherlock didn't read the newspapers much. They were all fairy tales. But then every fairytale needs a good old fashioned villain.

Luckily Sherlock's stop was the next and he briskly made his way to the car door and attempted not to glance over to the villainous vermin, who attracted Sherlock's attention and mind immensely. But Magnussen looked frail and beaten.

He got off the car and turned back to the once fulfilled underground seat of his. But who shouldn't be there. Magnussen.

Sherlock had to keep looking forward. If Moriarty was still out there, which he knew he was, he had to. He couldn't have distractions or attractions. He needed to focus on this particular puzzle. This predicament. It was medicinal to him. He needed his drug. His urge. His battle back. Which was Moriarty. He raced through the crowds of strangers who were like mazes of their own. But sherlock couldn't think of them and their thoughts and stories now. He needed his drive and his business back from the dead.

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Mycroft stared at his watch. He wanted his free gift from Crossy road. The arcade game on his iPhone. Well, since sherlock had been away, he had lightened up a bit. He glanced over at the lovely, delicious, mouth watering chocolate cake. No! He couldn't he was on his weight watchers diet plan. But he couldn't resist. He had to.

'Oh brother mine, what have we said about Mycake!' Entered sherlock bang on cue.

'Stop it Sherlock, I can beat you at everything any day.' Replied Mycroft slyly.

'Oh so you're including weight loss, because I think, I would be the winner.'

'Don't be smart Sherlock.'

'Oh bugger, that takes me back, don't be smart sherlock, I'm the smart one.'

'I am the smart one.'

'And that's a whole childhood in a nutshell. Good evening brother. And may christmas give you appalling halitosis and bad breath.'

'The same to you always dear brother.'

'Oh, one more thing. Moriarty. Where is he?'

'Oh sherlock, I'm so sorry I didn't know.'

'For gods sake Mycroft ! I know he's alive so where is he?'

'He's dead sherlock. We've been through this. There is no way Moriarty is back! Him in those screens I bet is some teenagers pranking the nation.'

'Very well brother. Good day.'

'Good day sherlock.'

Sherlock didn't care, he didn't listen to his brother. His search continued until he met a very unlikely alibi and suspect.