The Adventure of the Glass Hearts

[not_a_hero]

Who: Sherlock Holmes and James Moriarty
Where: The Roof
When: July 5th
Rating: R
Summary: Moriarty has targeted Sherlock's heart and now it's time for Sherlock to respond.
The Story:

It was hard to decide at first where to put John’s body. John had his own room with a bed he could be laid upon. The mess he was in, Sherlock was more than slightly tempted to burn him to ash. He’d already experimented with spontaneous body regeneration on the mechanical girl; there was no risk that John would not come back if he rid the world of his corpse. It wasn’t as though John was tied to the broken flesh in any way. It was a place holder and not even a necessary one.

But Sherlock still took the body to his own room and set it down on his couch for the time being. He’d rethink on what to do about it later. His head was too empty and his chest too full and it was all the wrong way around making him sluggish and dumb.

That was when he saw them—the macabre gifts. One glance told him what they were and it was hardly a deductive leap to assume whom they belonged to. Hearts—Evelyn’s and John’s in glass containers. Oh, he’d known it was a personal attack but this… This isn’t a game; this is revenge, anger.

Moriarty knows.

His hand are almost shaking when he takes his communicator out and sends out a private message.

“The roof. One hour. –SH”

He needs the hour to collect himself--not to prepare any magic tricks this time. If he goes as he is, he’s assured to lose even more than he already has. Calm. Cold. Collected. Caring is not an advantage.

He does his best to close down on the pain and wait for a response.

Comments

[willfixitforyou]

Moriarty grabs the front of Sherlock's shirt, not willing to go down alone. His hand is trembling, and he can't bring it not to, realizing with a bit of surprise how livid this mess still makes him. He thought he'd left that behind. Wrapped himself in vacancy and cold empty calm securely enough.

"So what will it be?"

It's a dare, but it's empty. Now, he has nothing to threaten Sherlock with. Not really. Just variants of what's been done already. "We're both waking up tomorrow anyway."

[not_a_hero]

Sherlock shoves him but not towards the edge. He just wants him away. Far away.

"You have made a Mansion full of enemies. You will never recover from this. I hope it was worth it."

[willfixitforyou]

So he stumbles back. Glances over his shoulder, contemplating the drop for a second, before he looks at Sherlock again.

"You think I had anything to lose?" Incredulous. Because he didn't, to his knowledge - Sherlock could have turned them against him at the drop of a hat, on a whim, and Jim's never cared about a single one of these people.

[not_a_hero]

"Yes. And now you've lost it."

He lost the chance to let the past rot there. He lost any chance to engage with Sherlock in any civil matter ever again. It was a contest, a game, and it was meant to be played by equals. But now Sherlock can't stand to even look at James Moriarty.

[willfixitforyou]

At least his hand stops trembling. Something slips into place like a solved equation, a fulfilled expectation. Of course, after pretending to have honoured the deal with his semantics, he considers Jim fulfilling his end of it and doing exactly what he told him he'd do horribly uncalled for. Of course he doesn't, in fact, play on his level. It was silly of him to think so.

"Then I suppose we're done."

[not_a_hero]

Sherlock turns away from him. He hates to let him live but... for the sake of ending it, he will. He will accept this.

But he won't ask the others to be as accepting as he.

"Yes. We are."

He walks back towards the roof access.