The two residents of Flat 221 that night slept on opposite sides on the same, small sofa. Somewhere in the middle of their slumbers, their long legs had entangled together, as they were both quite tall people. They discovered this when Lottie attempted to move off without waking up the detective so she could sneak some cookies before breakfast, but failed when she accidentally pulled his leg down to the ground while getting up from the cramped furniture. Sherlock awakened instantly and gazed curiously from side to side before sitting up.
The pair saw that it was after noon and there were things needed to be taken care of. John never showed up at home, and the storm outside hadn't eased up whatsoever. No one was expected to go any place relatively soon with such a drastic weather condition. It wouldn't even be surprising to see a mound of snow stuck to the front door, preventing people from walking in or out. John must've been bored out of his mind in the hospital at that point. Sherlock also remembered that Mary worked there as well, and probably was forced to stay in the gray building with her ex-husband nearby. Or they could've let her go home to her child. In either scenario, Mr. Watson ended up being uncomfortable and unoccupied with work.
Lottie whispered a quick apology and snuck into kitchen, continuing her mission. She dug through each cabinet, cringing at some of the repulsive scents caused by various body parts or chemical solutions hidden away in the compartments. It became clear that there were no longer any cookies left, much to the tall blonde's disappointment. She huffed, making a quick decision upon her plan of action towards her dilemma. A pair of insulated brown boots and a winter coat were added on to her ensemble.
"I'm quickly going to pop out to the shop for some food. You want anything?" She asked the detective.
"Hm? Oh, no." He replied, looking up from his thought process.
"Ahem." She cleared her throat.
"What?"
"You were supposed to thank me for asking if you wanted me to grab something for you."
"Of course, I'd simply forgotten. I owe you so much for asking me a considerate question; how will I ever repay you?" Sherlock mocked.
"Start by cleaning up the kitchen, darling. Maybe I'll buy some extra coffee for you. And some cyanide; you're running low." Lottie smirked and waved goodbye as she went out to the snow-covered streets.
The edge of Sherlock's mouth turned upwards to mirror her smirk, amused by the level of confidence Lottie reflected. But he remembered that he had to think about the message. All it revealed was a location and a time- some section of underground tunnels a few blocks away from being below Baker Street and the time would be 11:06 pm. However, this information would be useless unless Sherlock knew what would be occurring in that setting. All he would be able to do is show up and hope for the best.
>>>>
Lottie hadn't returned to the flat in over 4 hours. Sure, the girl loved food and shopping, but it was far too late for her to have been out in a regular situation. The detective figured that this had something to do with Moriarty, much to his own dismay. He had also periodically sent texts to John, receiving no reply and giving Sherlock a better idea on what was going on.
Unhappily, the detective threw on his coat and headed out of the building. There was only an hour remaining to find the location. The darkness outside made throngs of people hide in various places, making him one of the only people wandering about. Recent weather conditions had also taken a toll on how many people were out and about. Either way, all people milling about were suspiciously hidden in the shadows of the dark and Sherlock only heard the shoveling of feet along with the occasional sound of a cab passing by.
He located an alleyway with a passage down to the tunnels beneath the streets. The foul stench and grimy walls quickly became repulsive enough to disgust even the detective. He grimaced and continued walking cautiously down the tunnel. Rushed voices echoed all the way down to where Sherlock stood and he followed his ear to the owners of the voices. The glow of several candles lit the underground section where Sherlock had arrived at.
"-no, you know he doesn't eat chocolate much." Lottie's affirmative tone replied.
"Who doesn't?" Sherlock asked.
"Hey, look who joined the party." The girl smiled.
She stood with her back to the curved wall, clearly in restraints around her wrists. John was also not far off in the same situation as Lottie. There was a hefty-looking door on the side opposite of Sherlock's position, hiding any other people around. But the curious thing was the other surroundings- abandonned shop buildings coated with a thick layer of moss. The detective jumped to reminisce any information he could recall about these under-grounds.
The sound of a door creaking open interrupted his thought process, followed by a familiar phrase- "I'm so changeable! Aren't I?"
All attention was focused immediately on the smirking criminal standing by the entry way.
"And I finally meet you face-to-face." Lottie commented.
"Yes, now that that's over with..." Moriarty rolled his eyes.
"Why have you striked at me this time?" Sherlock demanded.
"Right to the point, eh? You need to rest a bit, honey, you're too serious... Anyways, I dragged you down to the buried cities so something actually gets to you." His flirtatious tone chirped.
"Explain yourself." Lottie perked up.
"You're english is horrid and you've lived here your entire life." Moriarty remarked, "Remember this city? It was the first one here, before everything over the top. Some people managed to survive and were left behind by people they thought cared about them. It's funny. Anywhoooo, they remained here and were still considered dead by those living above this ground until everyone died of disease. Now one of you will die here as well...and of the same nasty virus as those unfortunate people."
A memory popped into Sherlock's mind and basic information about their location came back to him. Nothing connected to the cases was pleasant in any form of thinking; it was all simply disturbing. It became clear that one of the three would be stabbed by a needle, containing a full shot of a deadly disease he couldn't quite remember the name of. The victim would suffer to their death for approximately an hour.
Lottie and John stared at their close friend, waiting for any sign of him revealing details about what the mastermind had planned for one of them. The could only gather his upset and disgusted expression as a negative sign for them. The silence was tense as Jim Moriarty paced around the area, standing right before the blonde girl.
"Let's play another game, shall we? Rules are, tell me why I shouldn't have you brutally killed and whoever I pick dies." Moriarty smiled, tucking a finger under her chin to direct it back upwards to meet his gaze.
She spat in his face and a bone-chilling darkness overtook his face. There would clearly be no good end for her.
