Third Person POV
Location: Classified
Time: One year before "A Study in Pink"
Jefferson Hope wished that he could like up to his family name. Instead, he was more than hopeless.
"I'm leaving." The parting words of Angela rang clear in his ears. Even after two years, the pain still rang through, a dull ache in his heart that tore at his conscience. If only he had the sense not to go to that New Year's Eve party...
Grace... Ted... how Papa misses you so... he mused as he reminiced of his two beautiful children. They deserved more than this. They deserved a parent who loved them, not some workaholic mother who only cared about her accounting firm.
The slam of a thick file down on the metal desk in front of him snapped Jeff out of his reverie.
"Pills... gun... all you need to lure out the elusive Mr Sherlock Holmes... " his hooded and cloaked employer told him, showing him the bag of pills and the small Glock, loaded and primed to kill.
Jeff stared up at his employer. Show no fear, he told himself. What had he to lose after all?
"Take the gun away, I don't need a real one- Mr... I can't believe after all these meeting, you still refuse to tell me your name. As for the pills and how to use them... rest assured that I will find Mr Sherlock Holmes, and I most certainly will succeed." He looked up, a tiny smirk dancing on the corners of his lips.
The hooded man never flinched at Jeff's words. He turned, then whipped around and sent him sprawling to the ground with a well aimed punch.
As Jeff hit the ground with a grunt, the hooded man spoke. "If you ever want to ensure that the money reached Grace and Ted, or even if you want to ensure that they live... a word of advice, Mr Hope. Drop the tone. You have the pills. You have the gun. Whether you want to use them or not is completely up to you. Just find this Holmes and make sure he dies."
Jeff stood up gingerly, glaring up at his employer. He bowed and left the room without a word.
"Oh, and one more thing."
Jeff stopped abruptly.
"My name is Moriarty."
***
"Did you tell him my name?"
"No sir. Hope has no idea of who we are, or what we do."
Moriarty spat on the floor. "I need more than that to convince me. Look me in the eye." His voice carried with it a deadly silence, subtle but ever-present in its velied threat.
The other man jerked his head upwards, staring Moriarty right in the eye, cocking his head sideways as if in a challenge.
Moriarty laughed- a quick, yet menacing chuckle. "Fine. But to be honest? I don't give two hoots about whether the cabbie knows my name or not. I have a reputation to build, don't I... sorry, didn't catch your name. But who cares? Dismissed." A swift bow from the hooded man facilitated his even swifter exit.
Moriarty barely even glanced at the departing figure of the man. He was but a pawn in his grander scheme, an insignificant worker in the inner machinations of the Organization. So long as the rest of the Upper Echelon approved of his actions, who was a Lower Echelon member to stop him?
Grinning, he put on a pair of headphones, humming to the tune of "La gazza ladra". The Thieving Magpie.
Surely an apt name for his masterstroke.
He walked briskly along a series of darkened corridors, dancing in step to the music, all the while wearing a gleeful smile on his face.
Jim Moriarty would find Sherlock Holmes. And when he did...
***
Third Person POV
Location: GTO HQ
Time: After the events of A Study in Pink
"I'll feed your heart to the dogs. And when I'm through, I'll rip your limbs out and fillet your spleen. Do. You. Hear. Me?"
Matt Simmons had been with the Organization for two years, and never in his life had he felt so terrified. This- this sadist standing in front of him fit the description to the letter so well, the experienced arsonist would in fact have crawled up and died had Moriarty not tied him up.
Matt replied in a shaky voice, still tightly bound to the chair. "S-Sir, we don't know where he is. After Jeff was killed by that doctor with Holmes, he- he just up and went. I swear, I don't- aaargh!!"
The red-hot poker was pressed into Matt's chest, burning his shirt and searing his skin to such an intensity, Matt could smell his own flesh burning. Moriarty frowned as he twisted the poker further in; clearly disappointed in the answer he received.
"Answer me straight. You were the last person he met. How much did he bribe you to keep your blasted trap shut? Tell me!" Moriarty released the poker, then dumped a bucketfull of ice water onto the man. Matt yeowled with pain as the water made contact with his already tender skin.
Spluttering and gasping for air, Matt finally caught his breath. With a shudder, he spat out a mouthful of water, stuttering.
"I- I'll tell you! Ju-just don't- yyeeaaargh!!!"
Moriarty threw a second bucketful of ice at him, his face contorted into a mask of rage. "Speak fast, and if you don't tell me the whole truth, I'll dig your heart out with a spoon."
"Heathcliffe- he- he fled for America. Took a- a plane the first-t thing in the m-morning-" Matt slumped in his chair, shivering both in fright and in pain.
Moriarty picked up the radio on the desk next to him, muttering something inaudible to the man on the other side. He paused.
"Which state?"
"W-Wash-hington" was all Matt could manage.
"Washington. Make sure it's done." Moriarty slammed down the radio and stared hard down at the soaked and burnt man in front of him, a smirk flitting about his face.
***
Third Person POV
Location: Washington State, USA
Time: During the events of The Blind Banker
Operative Milo Rossi exhaled as his target was in his sights. He had come far too close now to miss. After weeks of trailing his target, he finally had a clear shot.
Peering down the street, he saw his target, a heavily disfigured man wearing a large overcoat. He performed a last-minute check on his rifle, ensuring that the firing mechanism was up to par and his line of sight was properly aimed up.
Now for the kill.
Inhaling, he waited for his pulse rate to lower. Shooting between heartbeats decrease his chances of a miss. The Upper Echelon did not condone even a simple mistake. In this world, it would be either kill or be killed.
Finally, he pressed a finger on the trigger, preparing to shoot-
A harsh voice saying "I wouldn't do that if I were you" and the cold, hard barrel of a shotgun pressed to his temple caused him to reconsider his actions.
Milo spun around, lashing out with a vicious haymaker, but the other man was faster. Dodging the fist thrown by Milo, he spun around with a neat roundhouse, sending the operative crashing into his own sniper rifle. The rifle went off with a loud "CRACK", causing people below to panic.
The newcomer grabbed Milo by his collar and dragged him to a spot next toe the elevator. Milo groaned and attempted to break free, but the other man was to skilled to let go. He slammed the would-be assassin onto the ground, knocking Milo out cold.
The man stood over Milo. Smiled. Produced a gun and shot him through the temple. A clean, painless exit.
Somewhere on the street, a mannequin of a disfigured man in an overcoat lay in the settling dust, a sniper round through where a living heart should have been.
***
Third Person POV
Location: St Bart's Hospital
Time: During events of The Reichenbach Fall, before Sherlock's apparent death
"Sherlock Holmes. Pleasure."
"Who are you?"
"Someone who would help. My name is of no consequence to you."
Sherlock tossed the rubber ball at the wall opposite him. He smirked as he pointedly ignored the newcomer. Apparently, a newcomer that had a "better" way to fix his plan. Project Lazarus.
"I'm sorry, but to have a mystery at both ends of my cases would be far too... tedious. You may take your leave now, kind sir."
The man just stood there. Stoic and uncompromising. "I am sure that you'll find my help very useful. Take for example, the corpse at the morgue."
Sherlock caught the rubber ball, then paused.
"What corp- oh. Oh. Yes, yes, that might wor-" he spun around, a thought striking him. "How did you know that?"
But the man was gone, the door wide open, the only thing Sherlock saw being the fringes of his overcoat.
It didn't take more than a few seconds for Sherlock to corner the stranger. "How do you know all this? All... all of it? And the corpse? Who gave you the idea-"
The other man forced Sherlock against the wall, arm at his throat. His voice suddenly became harsh and unyielding.
"You wanted a foolproof plan. I have said foolproof plan. You wanted to trick Moriarty and save your sorry friends. Now go and save said sorry friends, or else..." he glanced at a gun which somehow managed to appear in his hand. "You die."
Sherlock smirked. "Fine. What's it in for you? Wait, no. You worked for Moriarty for quite some time, then went rogue. Why? Because it's Jim Moriarty. Stupid question, the more obvious deduction would be that you somehow want him gone. You want me to succeed. And yet..." he trailed off, glaring at the other man. "You have the look about you. The look of a man who craves-"
"I've heard enough of your mindless rambling, Sherlock Holmes. I've said what I wanted to say. Ths corpse. Use it wisely. Who knows? We may meet again."
He released Sherlock, bowed mockingly and made to leave.
"The name is Erik. Erik Thorne, and the address... well I would tell you-"
"But I would have to kill you."
END
Soooooo how did you like the new chapter? Sorry for the delay in posting, and also any awkward story moments heheh I'm experimenting with new angles and flashbacks xD really busy with work so yeah~ thanks for all the kind votes and comments, yall are awesome!!
Read, Vote and Comment!!!