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A Bit Worse	By : VulpineBeesKnees Category: S through Z > Sherlock (BBC) > Sherlock (BBC) Views: 2624 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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It didn’t take him long to get to Big Ben, but there were tourists everywhere. Cautiously, he made his way into the building and, eyeing the security, slipped into the maintenance area. The service elevator took him almost all the way to the top, but there was still a few staircases to maneuver. Finally he found himself behind the clock faces. Going through the video again mentally, he realized which ledge held the button he had seen earlier, the street below in the video was all he needed. Sure enough one of the panels on the North East side had been recently opened, making it easy for him to slip through and out into the open air.

The ledge was narrow and Sherlock was nervous as he slowly made his way out to the button, the cold London air whipping around him violently.Flashes of falling from the hospital roof spidered across his vision, and the detective had to force the images away. Stepping both feet on the button, he breathed a deep sigh and gripped onto the metalwork of the clock face behind him. Suddenly, as if on cue, his phone rang.
He turned around, slipping his arm through a metal beam, he held it up and answered the video call from John’s mobile.
“Well that was rather quick. You are very good at following orders aren’t you boy?” Moriarty drawled into the microphone the moment the phone was answered. The camera was on, but for the moment the screen was black
“I’ve never been one for following orders, but you do have my flatmate.” he tried to sound nonchalant, but he was sure the slight breathlessness in his voice gave him away, “Also, it does intrigue one to have said flatmate kidnapped by someone responsible for half of your genetic makeup. A father who’s been missing for over thirty years... To what do I owe the honor?”
“You’re really just figuring that out?” Moriarty laughed, “Pity, I really had higher hopes for you. But yes, Sherlock. Seb told you didn’t he? ‘You’re me.” Another icy laugh filtered through the shrill of the air whipping around the tower. Sherlock could see people crowding around at the base of the tower, already attracting an audience.
“You see,” Moriarty continued when he had calmed himself, “He wasn’t exactly right. You aren’t really him, you weren’t even brothers, simply half brothers... You’ll like this bit though, it was actually a bit of an experiment, the old nature versus nurture. Where I was with your mother for her intellect, the Moran’s mother was just a wee bit crazy. I killed her right after Mary was born and raised them myself. But you... You were the crown jewel in my experiment.”
“The prodigal son, and you’ve already proved yourself. You’ve been playing this game for so long, and you didn’t even know it... When Seb killed that boy at the pool, I was impressed no doubt, but when you actually began investigating it... That was when I knew this would work and it has.” His voice had grown soft, almost nostalgic. “You’ve already proved you are more than worthy.”
Sherlock felt like he might be ill. The thought that his entire existence was the whim of a madman was not something he entertained keeping. He’d have to delete it as soon as he could or it would eat away at him forever. However, he was careful not to let his weakness show. “You must have a god complex to think you were capable of pulling this off.”
“Capable? I already have.” Moriarty replied with a smirk. “You see I raised Sebastian and Mary to be like me. Raised them to embrace the criminal lifestyle, taught them how to play people and weave a web of deceit. But you," his voice grew feverish with excitement, "With you, it’s all natural. All that intelligence passed down from your mother and I. No... playing the game with Nature versus Nurture was too much to pass up.”
"I knew that I couldn’t keep the idea of the consulting criminal alive when I started going senile, so I’d need a successor. I’d need to start young, and it would need to stay in the family. But I needed to devise a way to pit all my children against each other, and of course you did beautifully against Sebastian. Poor boy, he thought if he could force you to kill yourself at least Mary would win." He tutted softly to himself, an almost reminiscent look crossing his features, which quickly was replaced by the evil grin. "But you outsmarted him didn't you?"
Moriarty was quiet for a second, the only sound coming from the rustling of the phone being moved about in the dark, suddenly there was light and he could see Moriarty’s face, eyes racing back and forth reading something on the screen in front of him.
“Oh Sherlock.. I told you to come alone.” he tutted softly, his attention turning back to the camera so it appeared he was looking straight at Sherlock.
Turning and looking over his shoulder, Sherlock could see some of Mycroft’s men in the actual tower.
“NO!” He shouted, but they didn’t hear him and were milling around trying to figure out how to help him.
“I told you to come alone. Now poor John will pay the consequences.”
“No! I told Mycroft to let me do this! This is not my fault!!”
“Too bad!” The evil madman laughed as the camera turned so that John could be seen, sitting in a chair, and Mary standing beside him, a large grin on her face.
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Mary had been kinder than John expected after Moriarty had left him to her the night before. Sitting on the floor she drew his head into her lap, cleaning the dried blood from his face gently.
"Don't mind daddy, he's just cross with Sherlock, he always thought Sherlock would be the best of us all." John couldn't believe how manic she sounded compared to the woman he'd become friends with over the past three years. Running her hand through the hair along his forehead she continued talking.
"I don't think you're worthless though, I see why Sherlock likes to keep your company. I'd be jealous... But he hasn't had you yet has he?" John felt his stomach clench as she drug a sharp nail down the side of his face suggestively. There was absolutely nothing he could do to pull away from her, but a small whine escaped his lips. "Oh don't worry luv, we'll save that for later. I wouldn't want Sherlock to miss the fun."
Standing she let his head fall to the concrete with a resounding and painful thud. He closed his eyes listening to her walk to the other side of the room. "You may as well get some sleep, we're going to have fun tomorrow." The promise made him feel sick to his stomach. "No moving around or trying to escape." Then turning off the one light left in the room she opened the door and left him.
He tried opening his eyes, but the pitch darkness closed around him painfully. Slowly his mind receded, allowing him a sort of distorted sleep, riddled with nightmares. When he awoke hours later and found he had control of himself again he pulled his body against a wall. Wrapping his arms around his legs. His body shook violently and he didn't know if it was the after effects of the drug or the nightmares.
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John sat against the wall for hours, violent tremors racking his frame. When he finally heard the door open and looked up from his arms he glared maliciously at the tall man entering the room. He was physically exhausted, but he wasn't broken, not yet.
Moriarty didn't look to John as he swept into the room, Mary followed behind him, dragging a thick wooden chair behind her. When the chair was settled in the middle of the room, under the single pot light, Moriarty finally acknowledged Johns presence.
In a snarled growl he snapped, "Get over here."
Johns jaw set defiantly as he met the man’s gaze. His eyes were horribly similar to Sherlocks. Moriarty waited a moment before snaking his neck back, that's where Sebastian had picked up that animalistic move, and walking over to where John sat curled in on himself. Grabbing him by the hair he wrenched John to his feet leaning in close to his ear, his breath sticking to Johns sweat soaked skin.
"You are in no position to defy me." The growl had disappeared from his voice, revealing a disgustingly sweet voice. "I. Own. You."
John was dragged to the chair by his hair and violently pushed into it. John had to bite back the desire to lash out at them both. He wanted to lash out, to fight back, but he knew anything he did would affect Sherlock. John was a soldier, an old and broken one perhaps, but he believed he could handle whatever torturous acts they had planned for him. He also knew Sherlock. Every act of torture would dig deeper at the detective, until he was mad with rage.
As the older man circled John menacingly he desperately tried not to think of how he'd left Sherlock the night before. If he hadn't left, if he hadn't been so unnecessarily worried about other people, none of this would have happened.
After a few painfully silent moments Moriarty stopped in front of John. Crouching he place his hands on the back of the chair, pinning Johns head between his leather clad arms. His head fell to the side slowly, piercing John with those hauntingly familiar eyes.
Pushing off of the chair he nodded towards Mary, who swooped in behind the chair, her thin arms dropped over the back. Nimble fingers began dancing across his temples and down to his shoulders. He could see Moriarty pulling his own phone from his pocket again and John jerked away from her hands, only to be pressed back into the chair. Her nails cut into the skin under his collarbone as she tutted disapprovingly.
Fear gripped John as he heard Sherlock's voice over the loudspeaker. He opened his mouth to tell Sherlock to hang up, to not give in to whatever demands the madman had, but Mary's thin hand gripped his jaw painfully.
"Speak and he'll die." She hissed into his ear. "Understand?"
Biting his lip, he nodded quickly. John wasn't sure whether it was a bluff or not but he wasn't prepared to test it. He could hear the entire conversation, and the realizations only made him feel worse. This man was Sherlock’s father, Moriarty had never died. It was all some elaborate scheme, something you’d hear about in a horror film.
John knew something was wrong when Moriarty grew quiet, and he tensed in turn. Letting go of him Mary moved to his side and the phone was set up on a dock, the camera facing the two of them. John felt his lip quiver slightly, his hands balling to fists. He knew Sherlock could see him now.
Moriarty spoke from behind the phone, loud enough that both John and the detective could hear him. "I gave Sherlock specific directions, and he refused to follow them. He did this to you. I want you to remember that, he could have protected you today, but he chose not to."
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A Bit Worse