"You couldn't kill me if you tried for a hundred years."
*****************************
Moriarty looked up at the new man interrogating him. He was tall. Muscular. Thin. He could easily break James' arm if he wanted to. Yet, like the other man, he was on the shallow end of the IQ pool. James was having fun with this one.
"I-I..." The man stuttered, unable to answer James' confusing riddle. James had made up some lie of how "whoever solves this riddle will find my criminal plans". Yeah, right. It was all ridiculous. The actual answer to the riddle was an inside joke Beth and him had come up with years prior. Yet it was fun to see his interrogator squirm. And he was close to getting him to break.
"Is it... In a park?" The interrogator was rubbing the back of his neck.
Nervous. James thought. Of course this man was nervous. James had just given him an impossible riddle. One that, according to the lie, would allow this man to find out his "secrets" and rise through the ranks of his job.
No chance in hell of that, either. Yet James smirked at this man's answer. But he made it look cautious. As if to say, "Oh no. You figured me out!"
The man suddenly looked giddy, "It's in the park, isn't it! Don't you live near a park?!"
"... Yes." Another tedious lie. Sure, he had lived near a park. It was 15 miles away from him. But that was before he had moved into the flat he had now. Married Beth.
"Ah, yes! I outsmarted you! I outsmarted the genius James Moriarty!"
James faked a frown, avoiding eye contact. If he played his cards right, he could get himself and Beth out of here by the afternoon. He watched as the man bolted out of the door to his cell, screaming the name of a park and demanding something that sounded like "Search all the trees!"
Ridiculous.
James knocked on the wall separating him and Beth.
"Yeah?" It was weird how Beth could sound so casual through all of this. He could hear her surprisingly cheery voice through the wall.
"If someone comes into your room, say that there is a stash of plans in the park near the old flat."
"Why?" He could imagine her now. Maybe she was filing her nails against the concrete wall. Making sure they were sharp enough to scratch people if need be.
"We might be getting out of here."
**********************
A man burst into Beth's cell. He was panting, waving a finger at her face, near screaming, "Do you know anything about where your husbands plans are?!"
Ah, yes. So this was what James had been talking about. She looked at the man. He was trying his best to be intimidating. To scare her.
She played along. "Y-Yes...." she whimpered.
He smirked, yelling, "Where?!"
Flinching at his "frightening" voice, she said, "I-It's in a log in a park near one of his flats! That's all I know, I swear!"
Within three hours, they were both blindfolded, thrown into a car, and delivered to their flat where Sebastian was, safe and sound.
*************************************
Two days later, Sherlock Holmes unlocked his flat, walking in with his usual bored frown.
Yet, he knew something was wrong. He knew what was wrong, as well. The faint smell of a woman's perfume. A chip of black nail polish on the railing for the stairs. A pair of all too familiar shoes next to the doorway... He had to admit, that was painfully obvious.
In moments, he was bounding up the stairs into the living room, and flinging open the door.
He was greeted by a chilling sight.
"Lizbee." he mentally cursed himself. The nickname for her had simply been a reflex, almost. He couldn't do that. Couldn't be fond of her.
Beth was laying on his couch. She was wearing a blood red tank top. Leather jacket. Short black skirt, along with plain stockings. She had on no shoes. A knife was in her hand, and she was playing with it. The scariest thing was that the knife was bloody. Her legs were resting on the top of the sofa.
Sherlock gasped. Beth smirked. "Hello, Mr. Holmes. Did you miss me?"
Holmes growled, "No. Who's blood-"
"No one you know. Just a guard for a museum down the street."
Oh god, he hated to think that he missed that voice. That chillingly sweet voice that masked the poison of her words. She was even more beautiful than before.
"Lock, stop your staring. I know you missed me."
"Not particularly."
"Oh Puh-lease!" she laughed, and it almost sent chills down Sherlock's spine, "I know you did. Because I'm your sweet lil' Lizbee."
"What are you doing here?!" He wanted - no- needed her to get out.
"I'm just showing you that you don't have power over me, even in your own home. Plus, if you get too rowdy and try to bully me out...." She looked out the window above her head, opened it, and whistled. A red laser sight appeared on Sherlock's chest, "... You wouldn't get far."
He looked out the window. He could just barely see someone aiming a rifle at him from the building across from his. He could recognize sandy blonde hair. Sebastian Moran.
Beth twirled the knife between her fingers before sitting up, "Besides, I don't think you'd hurt me anyway. You're too fond of me."
"No. I'm not."
"Oh really?" she had a knowing tone. She waved at the window, and the laser sight disappeared. Stand down.
She stood up, and walked up to him. She looked him in the eyes for a moment. A single moment. But to Sherlock, it seemed like an eternity. Her eyes captivated him. A perfect grey...
And then the moment was over. She circled him like a cat would circle a mouse. Getting ready to pounce. She could have slaughtered him in seconds. But she didn't. He finally got a good look at her. He got to look at the real Beth. The Beth with soft hips and devilish eyes. The real Beth with a terrifying smile and almost ridiculously pale skin. Perfect make-up. Ruby red lips. He could see why she was so good at being a con artist.
It was because she could make men fall to her feet. She could reduce them to nothing in seconds. He admired that.
"Why?" he asked out loud by mistake.
"Why what, Holmesy?"
"Why be a criminal?" he was shaking his head. He couldn't understand it. She had the world at her feet. Why waste it away breaking the law?
She smirked, checking her phone, "Because it's fun. And, well, why not? Now, if you excuse me, my husband is waiting for me outside-"
She tried to walk away, but he grabbed her by the wrist. She gasped, trying to pull her hand away from him. But he couldn't let go.
That was a definite mistake on is part. In seconds, she was slashing her knife at his cheek, leaving a gash right below his cheek bone. He cried out, let go, and stumbled backwards, falling onto the couch. The cut wasn't deep. Not even close. But it still hurt. He watched as James walked into the apartment, smiled at him, gently took Beth by the arm, and left.
John came in an hour later. Yelled something in surprise. Tended to Sherlock's wounds.
It made Holmes feel... safe. John would never hurt him. John would never leave him.
John would help him.
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Hey guys!!!
So, there is only going to be a few chapters left. Thennn I'll post the 4th book in the series a month or two later. Thennn I'll start writing down the 5th one on my notebooks at home. Depending on how the book ends, there may or may not be a 6th one. Then the series will end, but I'm planning a book for AU's and short stories in the Partners in Crime series.
VID ISN'T MINE