The Side of The Angels (A Sherlock Holmes Fan-Fiction)

Chapter Thirty-Three: Clever Claudia

So, just as we discussed, Sherlock and I stayed home while John attended the trial. I sat on the couch, and Sherlock laid with his head in my lap. I played with his hair as we waited for John's phone call. I jumped as Sherlock's phone rang. He answered it on speaker.

"Not guilty. They found him Not Guilty. No defense and Moriarty's walked free. Sherlock. Are you listening? He's out free, you know he'll be coming after you. Sher-" Sherlock hung up, getting off of the couch and heading to the kitchen to put the kettle on.

"He's coming isn't he?" I asked.

"Yes." I nodded. "Are you afraid?"

"Not anymore."

"Why not?" He asked.

"Because...you asked me not to be."

~~~

Once the kettle boiled, I arranged the china on a tray and placed it on a table between the three chairs. Sherlock picked up his violin and started playing, what I don't know. I sat down in my chair, legs crossed, awaiting Moriarty's arrival.

We both heard the steps creak, and Sherlock paused for a moment. He gave me a look and I nodded, informing him that I was ok. Even if I wasn't, I wasn't going to let either of them know that. He started playing again, and the door creaked open, only causing him to stop once again.

"Most people knock." He said. "But then, you're not most people, I suppose. Kettle's just boiled."

"Johann Sebastian would be appalled." Moriarty said, picking up an apple from the basket on the coffee table. I didn't take my eyes off of him. He tossed the apple up, catching it again. He looked around the flat, meeting my eyes every so often. "May I?"

"Please." He gestured to John's chair with his violin bow, so naturally, Moriarty chose to sit in Sherlock's...the one closest to me. He crossed his legs and Sherlock started pouring the tea. I could see him cutting the apple with a knife.

"You know when Back was on his death bed he heard his son at the piano playing one of his pieces. The boy stopped before he got to the end-"

"And the dying man jumped out of his bed, ran straight to the piano and finished it." Sherlock continued.

"Couldn't cope with an unfinished melody." I threw in. "But I suppose you'd know all about that. It is why you're here after all."

"But be honest...the two of you are just a tiny bit pleased."

"What? With the verdict?" Sherlock handed him a cup.

"With me. Back on the streets. Every fairy tale needs a good old-fashioned villain." He smiled. "You need me or you're nothing. Claudia used to tell me that quite often, back when I was sweet little Mark Donnelly. What was that thing I used to call us? Partners in crime?"

"Explain to me, why exactly do I need you?" Sherlock asked, changing the subject.

"Because we're just alike, you and I. Except you're boring. You're on the side of the angels." He took a sip of his tea, not taking his eyes off of me as he did so.

"You got to the jury, of course."

"I got into the Tower of London, you think I can't worm my way into twelve hotel rooms?" He asked.

"Cable network." We said together.

"Every hotel bedroom has a personalized TV screen. And every person has their pressure point. Someone that they want to protect from harm. Easy peasy."

"So how are you going to do it?" Sherlock asked, blowing on his tea. "Burn me."

"Oh, that's the problem. The final problem. Have you worked out what it is yet? What's the final problem? I did tell you. But did you listen?" He sang the last part, sending chills down my spine. He put his cup on the saucer and started drumming on his knee with his fingers. "How hard do you find it having to say 'I don't know'?"

"I don't know." Sherlock put his cup on the table beside him.

"Oh, that's clever. That's very clever. Awfully clever. Speaking of clever, have you told your little friends yet?"

"Told them what?"

"Why I broke into all those places and never took anything?"

"No."

"Not even her?" He nodded at me.

"You know just as well as I do that I don't need to tell her."

"Well go on then...Claudia. Explain."

"You want her to tell you what you already know?" Sherlock asked him.

"No, I want her to prove that she knows it." They both looked to me. I sighed.

"You didn't take anything because...you don't need to take anything. You will never have to take anything again."

"Very good. Because?" He asked.

"Because there is  nothing that they could keep Pentonville, the bank, or the Tower of London that would even come close to matching the value of the key that can get into all three." 

"She is clever, isn't she? Clever Claudia. I can open any door anywhere with a few tiny lines of computer code. No such thing as a private bank account now. They're all mine, there's no such thing as secrecy. I own secrecy. Nuclear codes, I could blow up NATO in alphabetical order. In a world of locked rooms, the man with the key is king. And honey you should see me in a crown."

"You were advertising all the way through the trial. You were showing the world what you can do."

"And you were helping, " Moriarty pointed out, "Rouge governments, intelligence communities, terror cells. They all want me. Suddenly I'm Mr. Sex. Sorry Claudia dear, I know that word makes you uncomfortable."

"You can break any bank. What do you care about the highest bidder?" Sherlock questioned.

"I don't. I just like to watch them all competing. 'Daddy loves me the best!' Aren't ordinary people adorable? Well, you know. You've got John. Claudia has ordinary tendencies. I should get myself a live-in one."

"Why are you doing all of this?"

"It must be so funny." Moriarty said.

"You don't want money or power, not really. What. Is it. All. For." Moriarty leaned foreword in Sherlock's chair.

"I want to solve the problem. Our problem. The final problem. It's going to start very soon, Sherlock. The fall." He let out a descending whistle. "But don't be scared. Falling is just like flying only there's a more permanent destination." Sherlock stood up, buttoning his jacket.

"I never liked riddles." Moriarty stood up as well, and I just sat in my chair watching to both of them. Two brilliant men, staring each other in the face like opposite ends of a battle field in a raging war that never ends. Both have the capability, both have the means to succeed, so now the question is which will come out on top?

"Learn to. Because I owe you a fall, Sherlock. I. Owe. You." He looked at me one last time, and all of a sudden, I was looking into Mark's eyes again. Mark's caring eyes. It's like he flipped a switch and changed from Moriarty to Mark within seconds. I looked away and he left the flat abruptly. Sherlock picked up the apple with the knife shoved into the bottom of it. I O U was carved into it.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked. I stood up, standing in front of him.

"Sherlock? Can I ask something of you?" I asked. He didn't respond, silently urging me to continue. "This is a war, you see that don't you."

"Of course." I nodded.

"Good. I don't know what's coming next but what I do know is that when it's over...I want Jim Moriarty dead." I could tell by the look in his eyes that I was scaring him. I understood.

I was beginning to scare myself.