The Devil Within

Part Two

Sherlock wanted to simply roll his eyes at these texts from Moriarty and carry on about his life - but the main problem to be found there was that these weren't just simple jokes. Moriarty amused himself by murdering by threatening, by manipulating. No mtter how lighthearted he might act, it would never be anything more than a ruse.

Actually, I recently cleared out my mind palace. -SH

Shame. How about you call me and we can talk about it.

The words simply seemed wrong, as if they weren't truly meant to be sitting on the screen of Sherlock's phone. They were already communicating - didn't he prefer texting? Perhaps so, perhaps not. All Sherlock knew for certain was that he had to call Moriarty. He had to.

Hannibal Lecter was unfathomably dangerous, yes, but at least to Sherlock there was a far more urgent risk involved with Moriarty. He might even go far enough to say he had an arch nemesis, an ememy matched up against him as if risen from a work of fiction. Yes, it was exciting to match wits - but now he was in Italy, a distinct disadvantage.

He moved to call the number which had been sending the texts, not allowing any doubts to enter his mind. No, Sherlock wouldn't let his belief waver even in the frenzied moments waiting for and yet dreading that the call would connect. Moriaty had been off the radar for many months - why would he have to start communicating with Sherlock now?

"Hello?" Moriarty's voice sounded as pure and smooth as a worn pebble, the final "o" sound extended far longer than necessary. Yes, this was the man Sherlock had expected.

"Moriarty," Sherlock sai, attempting to eliminate the growl from his voice. If this was a game (and it most certainly was) then Sherlock could play his cards right. This could easily be a civilized conversation. This didn't have to be war. It could be a round of chess, carefully played.

"Oh, hello there! Didn't hink you would pick up, not when you're in the middle of having so much fun in Italy."

"I don't believe 'fun' is quite the word I would use."

"Then you're there on business! Somehow I'm not surprised, not with how ended up letting me know you were prancing about in Italy..."

Sherlock wasn't in a position where he could questions what came from Moriarty's mouth - all he knew was that he could not imply pass it off as insanity, nonsense. This many, crazy though he could be, was the sort who always thought through his words, never tossed them about.

"You know, it probably wasn't the best idea of yours to go off to Italy at such a time! You left right when the Watsons were in their time of need."

"Extraordinary though I may be, I could not possibly influence nor perdict when Mary would go into labour. Perhaps it was not the best time to go to Italy, but I've had my plans set up for quite a while."

"Oh, fascinating. I'd love to hear more about these plans once you get back here to London."

"I intend to carry my plan out before I return to London," Sherlock stated.

"Oh, that's a shame."

"Is it?"

"Why yes, of course!" Moriarty replied, his laugh causing static to pop out over the phone. The effect was somewhat unsettling, causing Sherlock to press out a worn out sigh from between his lips.

"And why, exactly, would that be?"

"Everyone here in London is having so much good fun, but it's just not the same when you're not around!"

"Pity," Sherlock replied. "Nevertheless, I'm afraid I won't be back in London for at least a week."

"Are you so sure about that?" Moriarty asked, his voice beginning to depend into the growl of a murderous beast. The undertones had always been present, yes, but now he was releasing them entirely.