Chapter Text
The king is dead, long live the king.
Allegiance to a man cannot last beyond death, because that would be a sentimental notion, and a useless one, too. Those graffiti all across the city are a laughable denial of this.
Allegiance to a cause is what keeps something as finely wrought and beautifully balanced as James’ operation running like a well oiled machine, the cogs and tiny whirring wheels hardly taking any notice of its centre piece having gone.
It is at once awe-inspiring and infuriating, this expendability.
It is, however, impossible to let something die that has been brought to life with so much genius and labour. A true labour of love. Well, that, and money, persuasion, dissimulation, blackmail, baits and murder.
But it’s over now, for James, it is. It isn’t over for Moran, by a long shot, though.
Moran reviews the latest events, still dismayed at the outcome, if truth be told. Because the story has taken a turn James did not openly discuss beforehand, but it is not hard to see that, ever changeable, he merely adapted to the situation. And now he’s gone and Moran’s the one left.
You cannot simply inherit an empire. History has a clear view on that kind of thing.
For now, the burden is not keeping it alive, though; it’s finishing a storyline that has been in the making for over two decades. It’s not allegiance to a dead man to want to do this. It deserves to be finished. This will be about making sure things happen as James would have wanted them to.
And punishing the right people in case they do not. Moran, as surprising as the final outcome was, was with James long enough to know exactly who those are, and what it entails, and what that comprises. Moran is holding the cards close; the trump.
Moriarty has never been James alone, a fact that he never even tried to hide. Quite the opposite, in fact. The iceman is certain to be looking for them, Moran thinks. And should he take one step in the wrong direction, or should anything seem foul after all… well, he’s holding the trump card, even though nobody knows that. Maybe no one ever will.
Although that would almost be a pity.