Frozen Kisses (Jim Moriarty x Sherlock Holmes)

Chapter Twenty Six- "You've Got A New Message"

~Moriarty~

I decided not to go straight home after Sherlock left. I simply dealt with another 'client'. Things escalated, I lost my temper, people died and I loved every bit of it. Just like always.

I made my way back to my house, feeling a new rush of adrenaline. That always used to happen whenever I murdered someone however it happened lest frequently now. I only felt blood rush through my veins like back then when I killed someone brilliantly. Not good, not decent, not great, it had to be brilliant. And this kill was, in fact, brilliant. But I'll spare the gruesome details.

I walked into the house and I only just noticed, by looking in the giant mirror in front of me, that I had blood on me everywhere. My eyes grew wide. MY FUCKING SUIT! THIS IS PURE BLUE WESTWOOD! AND THIS TIE IS SPECIALLY DESIGNED BY-

"Where have you been then?" A familiar voice asked from another room, a voice too familiar, a voice too beautifully familiar. Sherlock.

I happily bounced into the kitchen and, suddenly, the aggravating thoughts about my gorgeous Westwood being ruined disappeared. Although, this actually costed a lot of money and I was wearing different designer wear than suited and complimented each other so well. Plus, the stripes on the black tie were so thin and eloquent that it made the suit one thousand times better. RIP, my precious outfit of the day.

Sherlock glanced, whilst raising a curious eyebrow at the blood splattered all over me but he shook it off.

"What are you doing here?" I smiled.

"Turns out, Mycroft didn't need anything important so...I came here", Sherlock answered but not smiling back. He looked distracted, almost worried.

"Well, I'm glad your here", I said enthusiastically, "You won't believe what I just did. So, this posh couple were wine-tasting in their house and you should've seen the look on their pathetic faces when I-"

"You've got a new message", Sherlock glared at me coldly.

"What?" I laughed, feeling confused.

"On your answering phone, you've got a new message", Sherlock replied, "From an old friend, apparently".

"Wait, you listened to it?" I asked, frowning.

"Yes, I know I'm coming off across as the one in the wrong but, when you listen to it, you'll realise that YOU'RE the twisted, fake psychopath that you've always been!" Sherlock shouted, tears streaming down his face as he stormed out and slammed the door.

I stared at the empty, transparent space in front of me, thinking "what the hell?" and then I finally listened to the message.

"Moriarty! My main man! How's it going?"

I automatically felt numb when I heard his voice. Sebastian Moran.

"I haven't spoken to you in a while. Uh, I was just calling to see if you're still ready for that big plan. Ah, what the hell am I saying? Of course you're up for it! You never let me down".

If he's talking about the plan I think he's talking about then I'm screwed for life.

"Believe me, Moriarty, when we unleash this hell in a few weeks, I can guarantee that nobody will ever see Sherlock Holmes walk on this Earth ever again. Was that a little too dark? Whatever. Well, you know where to find me. Have a good one".

Shit. My head fell into my hands and my head began to feel numb and dizzy at the horribleness of this situation. I stopped holding my head and grabbed my phone whilst rapidly dialling Sherlock's number.

I can't believe Sebastian. We made that stupid plan over a year ago. He can't expect me to still be like that. The truth is, I always loved making Sherlock's life hell back then but only because his reactions were so different, so intriguing. But now everything's different, obviously!

The ringing stopped and I heard Sherlock's voice answer.

"Uh, hello".

"Sherlock! I'm sorry! All this is a complete misunderstanding! We made that-"

"What do I say now?" Sherlock asked.

"What?" I exhaled exhaustedly with panic.

I heard John's voice slightly in the background.

"For goodness sake, Sherlock. You don't know how to create a bloody voicemail?"

And then I sadly realised that it was indeed a very misleading voicemail.

I sighed and hung up, not bothering to leave a message. My body was telling me to just collapse onto something, anything. I staggered back and held onto the counter. But I gently slid against it and down onto the floor, already beginning to feel the tears form in my eyes. Fatigue and exhaustion took over my eyelids. I just realised that I hadn't slept for over two days with Sherlock being in hospital. My eyelids felt as heavy as bricks as they forced me to close them. And it didn't take long for me to eventually pass out on the kitchen floor.