Manipulated by a Consulting Criminal (Jim Moriarty x OC)

Chapter 26

(A/N- Heya darlings! Sorry I was gone for so long, I did not have inspiration to continue writing anything. But right now, I don't know why, I just feel like writing. It's 10 p.m. here, and I'm typing this while listening to Lana Del Rey because honestly, she's wonderful. Anyway, the chapter! Quite a turn-up wasn't it? Best of luck. Live long and prosper.)

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Sherlock was shocked. "Jane, what the hell?" he whispered. "Bet you never saw this coming," she replied. Sherlock moved back, horrified and scared. Jane gestured to her left, where John was standing, wearing a parka like hers, only there were bombs strapped to his body and a red dot was hovering over his chest. "What would you like me make him say next?" asked Jane. 

Sherlock looked from Jane to John, moving away. "Gottle o' geer," said Jane, looking at John. He repeated the phrase thrice, his voice breaking by the end of the last time. "Stop it," stated Sherlock, looking at Jane, trying to keep his face blank. 

"Nice touch this," said an Irish voice from somewhere near the corner where Jane was standing. Sherlock turned around to see who was hiding in the shadows, but could not figure out who was there. "The pool where little Carl died. I stopped him," said the voice. Jane just raised an eyebrow, but did not turn around. "I can stop John Watson too," said the voice. "Stop his heart," whispered Jane as she looked at Sherlock, an absolutely new and dark look on her face.

"Who are you?" asked Sherlock to Jane and the voice in the darkness. A door opened at the far end and the voice spoke again. "I gave you my number," said the vague figure of a man in a suit, who was still hiding behind a column. "I thought you might call."  Jim Moriarty came into the light, dressed sharply in a suit and tie, with his hair slicked back and a murderous look on his face. 

Casually strolling near the deep end of the pool to Jane, Sherlock and John, he looked at Jane and smiled, but she did not return it. He fake pouted for a second, before turning back to Sherlock, all signs of humour gone from his face. "Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?" asked Jim casually. Sherlock took the gun out of his pocket and aimed it at Jim and replied, "Both." 

Jim stopped near Jane and chirped, "Jim Moriarty. Hi!" Sherlock titled his head to a side, trying to figure out where he had seen this man before. Jane just rolled her eyes and glared at Jim, who returned it with an equally murderous glare. "Jim? Jim from the hospital?" prompted Jim, now turned back to Sherlock again. That's when it all clicked into place for Sherlock. Jane and Jim. In the hospital. Together. 

Jim began walking alongside the deep end again, and Sherlock lifted his gun to follow Jim with it. John bit his lip at the scene, nervous and slightly surprised. "Oh, Did I really make such a fleeting impression?" asked Jim. "But then, I suppose, that rather was the point," he continued. Jane rolled her eyes again and stepped forward towards Jim.

"What do you want, Jim? This is my game. You are not allowed to play," she complained. Jim chuckled and snapped his fingers, as atleast 10 red dots appeared on Jane's chest. She huffed and continued talking. "You know that doesn't scare me anymore, Jim. Stop. This is my job. Go away." He stood there and stared at her, contemplating for a few seconds before walking up to her, slamming his lips to her for a second and then walking away.

Jane was furious, and took a throwing knife out of her boot and threw it at the edge of Jim's jacket, making a clean cut across the right sleeve. He turned back and looked at her, shocked. "That's what you get for kissing me, you dick," she seethed and snapped her finger, making a sniper hiding in the shadows to shoot a bullet near Jim's feet. He jumped and fumed out, still unhappy.

Sherlock and John saw this entire ordeal and were trying to resist the urge to tackle her from behind. After staring at the door for a few seconds, Jane turned back to the detective and his blogger. "Ah! You two still hanging about?" she asked, feigning surprise. "Well, not not longer. JM. Moriarty. It wasn't him who was helping all those people commit those crimes, Sherlock. It was me."

Sherlock's eyes widened as he realised. "You are a consulting criminal," he concluded. Jane clapped her hands together, satisfied with Sherlock. "Yes! You see, I'm a specialist. Like you!" she exclaimed, only to wind him up. Sherlock's eyebrows furrowed a bit, still trying to connect a few final dots. "But you were with us most of the time. How..." he mused. "I have agents," said Jane and shrugged. "My plan was all set, everything was planned and calculated. I knew Jim would intervene at some point of time, but he ended up helping me," she concluded.

"Brilliant," whispered Sherlock under his breath, but Jane managed to hear it. "Isn't it?" she asked. "No one ever gets me, and no one ever will." "I did," snapped Sherlock. "You've come the closest," stated Jane. "Now you're in my way." "Thank you," said Sherlock. "Didn't mean that as a compliment,"said Jane, a bit bored. "Yes you did," retorted Sherlock. She shrugged and replied, "Yeah, okay, I did. But the flirting's over, Sherlock. Mommy's had enough now!" She said the last sentence in a high-pitched, sing-song voice, earning a cringe from John. 

"I’ve shown you what I can do. I cut loose all those people, all those little problems, even thirty million quid just to get you to come out and play," said Jane as she walked toward John, who was trying hard to maintain focus on the woman infront of him. "So take this as a friendly warning, my dear. Back off," said Jane, her voice cold and distant. 

"Though I loved this little game of ours. Playing lovers, it's like 8th grade all over again. Did you like the touch with my friendship with Molly?" she asked. "People have died," said Sherlock, ignoring what she said, although it hurt him a lot. She chuckled a bit before replying, "That's what people DO!" She screamed the last word, her cool and calm personality changing to one of a psychopath instantly. 

"I will stop you,"said Sherlock unconvincingly. "No you won't," said Jane, calm again. "You all right? Sherlock asked John. But John did not look at Sherlock, since he received strict instructions from Jane not to talk to the consulting detective. Jane walked to John's side and looked at him. "You can talk, Johnny-boy. Go ahead," she said coolly. Refusing to obey her, John looked at Sherlock and nodded once, indicating that he was alright.

Sherlock took one hand from the pistol and removed the memory stick containing the Bruce-Parrington plans. He held it out to Jane, and said, "Take it." "Huh?" asked Jane before noticing the memory stick. "Oh! That!" She strolled past John and smirked as she exclaimed, "The missile plans!" She took the memory stick from Sherlock's fingers, making sure to brush hers against his for a second, and brought the memory stick toward her mouth, kissing it. 

Behind her, John was quietly murmuring to himself, probably trying to keep himself focused on what was happening infront of him. Jane lowered the memory stick and looked at it. "Boring!" she exclaimed in a sing-song manner before throwing the memory stick into the pool. "I could have got them anywhere."  Seeing his opportunity, John rushed and threw himself at Jane from behind, holding her in a tight choke-hold. Sherlock backed in surprise, but kept his pistol aimed at her.