When Jim entered the newspaper office, violin case in hand, he wasn't the least bit surprised to find John Watson leaning against the wall in the hallway, his arms crossed.
"I suggest you give me the case."
"Oh, Johnny. Or else? I already told Sherlock. This particular item needs to be hand-delivered," he sang the rest of the sentence, "with love, from me, to you."
"The streets have been blocked around this building. You can't just duck into a car and drive off. I will follow you right out of here and I will get what I came for. If I have to injure you fatally in the process, so be it."
"I always considered the possibility of a no-show. And I don't think you'd harm me. First off, because it is the middle of the afternoon in the heart of London, but, even more importantly, because you owe me. If I wasn't back on the scene, we both know your bestie's plane wouldn't have turned around and he would have toasted the new year with vodka in Siberia and you would have never seen him again." John broke eye contact. "So. You will let me out of this building unharmed. Just so you know, laser trackers are terribly difficult to see in the daylight, but we both know there's no good reason to take out the queen when the match has just started. This is just me having a little fun. I will walk to the Underground, and you will let me."
Moriarty headed out of the building as John trailed behind. When he had descended the steps, John didn't follow.
Sherlock watched as Moriarty and the case boarded train number 347 on the District Line, northbound. Once the car was in motion, he dropped the paper on the bench and headed outside.
On the train, Jim glanced toward the back of the car to be sure that Clay had followed him. Once confirmed, he ignored him. A dark-haired woman was going from car to car, frantically calling for a child named Marcus. Jim's man eyed her suspiciously until she returned, pulling what must have been Marcus by the arm. Jim scrutinised each person in the compartment; he didn't have Sherlock's level of skill, but he was able to spot someone armed easily enough. Finding no one, he relaxed.
Well, home then. He was sorely disappointed that all he met with was John Watson's pseudo bravery and stupid theatrics.
The train didn't leave the stop. Instead, the conductor announced that the car was being replaced, and all passengers should exit at this time. Jim Moriarty didn't move a muscle as the other passengers shuffled past. He sat, waited, and spoke out loud as they disembarked, like a stewardess thanking passengers for the flight. "I was only trying to get Sherlock to play. So much fuss over this." He tapped the case. "Honestly. I'm just trying to be helpful. Secrets can be so toxic to your friends and family. Sherlock needs to" he grinned broadly, "let it go."
Mycroft came into view and took the seat next to Jim. Clay sat across from the two.
"I believe you have something which belongs to my brother."
"Pleasure to see you again. Friends and family present and accounted for and very much aware. Just as well. I'm not really sure what to do with this old thing. Give him his love, would you?"
FILL 8/9 Romeo to Juliet (Sherlock object sexual, Moriarty steals his beloved)
"I suggest you give me the case."
"Oh, Johnny. Or else? I already told Sherlock. This particular item needs to be hand-delivered," he sang the rest of the sentence, "with love, from me, to you."
"The streets have been blocked around this building. You can't just duck into a car and drive off. I will follow you right out of here and I will get what I came for. If I have to injure you fatally in the process, so be it."
"I always considered the possibility of a no-show. And I don't think you'd harm me. First off, because it is the middle of the afternoon in the heart of London, but, even more importantly, because you owe me. If I wasn't back on the scene, we both know your bestie's plane wouldn't have turned around and he would have toasted the new year with vodka in Siberia and you would have never seen him again." John broke eye contact. "So. You will let me out of this building unharmed. Just so you know, laser trackers are terribly difficult to see in the daylight, but we both know there's no good reason to take out the queen when the match has just started. This is just me having a little fun. I will walk to the Underground, and you will let me."
Moriarty headed out of the building as John trailed behind. When he had descended the steps, John didn't follow.
Sherlock watched as Moriarty and the case boarded train number 347 on the District Line, northbound. Once the car was in motion, he dropped the paper on the bench and headed outside.
On the train, Jim glanced toward the back of the car to be sure that Clay had followed him. Once confirmed, he ignored him. A dark-haired woman was going from car to car, frantically calling for a child named Marcus. Jim's man eyed her suspiciously until she returned, pulling what must have been Marcus by the arm. Jim scrutinised each person in the compartment; he didn't have Sherlock's level of skill, but he was able to spot someone armed easily enough. Finding no one, he relaxed.
Well, home then. He was sorely disappointed that all he met with was John Watson's pseudo bravery and stupid theatrics.
The train didn't leave the stop. Instead, the conductor announced that the car was being replaced, and all passengers should exit at this time. Jim Moriarty didn't move a muscle as the other passengers shuffled past. He sat, waited, and spoke out loud as they disembarked, like a stewardess thanking passengers for the flight. "I was only trying to get Sherlock to play. So much fuss over this." He tapped the case. "Honestly. I'm just trying to be helpful. Secrets can be so toxic to your friends and family. Sherlock needs to" he grinned broadly, "let it go."
Mycroft came into view and took the seat next to Jim. Clay sat across from the two.
"I believe you have something which belongs to my brother."
"Pleasure to see you again. Friends and family present and accounted for and very much aware. Just as well. I'm not really sure what to do with this old thing. Give him his love, would you?"