Chapter Text
“Is this the first time you’ve ever been wrong, Mr. Holmes?” said a sarcastic voice.
An angry huff was heard from behind, “Way to rub it in Liam. Give me a break, will ya?”
Emily Amelia Moriarty shook her head in exasperation. She was angry, tired and more importantly, on the verge of fainting (courtesy of the amount of mental power she had to use to not get themselves killed), and Sherlock was so bloody insistent about talking about that.
Now of all times.
“If you’re insinuating that it’s somehow my fault that you were unable to make a simple deduction-”
“Oi oi oi, Liam. Hold your horses! How was I supposed to know? You are the one who always goes on and on about statistical probability, just like during our train ride and yet-”
“And while deductions based on statistical probabilities are logical assumptions, there will always be margins of errors and thus you should not have ignored that. Isn’t that your favourite saying? ‘If you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.’ Isn’t that right, Sherlock?”
She couldn’t see his face, but if the sour tone was enough of an indication, she was positive he was frowning, “Lecturing me won’t get us out of the situation, Professor. Also, as a side note: there was exactly zero evidence or even clue and you know what, does it even matter?”
She took a deep breath, “All in all I guess not. But I do revel in the fact you got it the wrong way around. So close yet so far.”
She was smirking and teasing him, Sherlock was sure of it. He craned his neck backwards, catching a glimpse of blond hair and pale skin.
It was not an ideal situation, the one they were currently in. Apparently word had got out that a noble in Central London might be an illegal human trafficker. It was quite evident who might be the next victim of the Lord of Crime and as such Sherlock took upon himself to watch the noble in question and lay a trap for the Crime Lord and possibly for the Earl.
He had come up with several plans for his myriad scenarios of how it might all go down, but he was not anticipating Earl Everheart to actually kidnap someone right under his nose. Or rather he did, but seeing Liam getting dragged into the manor was heart-wrenching. She was bound and blindfolded, yet the unmistakable gold hair and regal stance gave her identity away in an instant.
Pushing the momentary panic and confusion down, Sherlock instructed John to find Lestrade and inform him of the developments. The Scotland Yard was supposed to be there as a back up, and Lestrade brought with him his friend from the department, Zack Patterson. They were stationed a few streets away, waiting in case Sherlock needed them.
Infiltrating the manor was a piece of cake. Sherlock liked to claim he “had a talent for crime” and so he put his experiences to good use. Finding Liam was a much more difficult one.
The manor was vast and lavish, with long corridors, several levels both up and down and a few dozens of different rooms. Sherlock figured they would either bring Liam down to the basement, or to some other secret room located around the floors upstairs. Looking through all the rooms though were out of the question so he tried his luck going down.
Arriving in the basement, he noted how enormous it seemed. With a manor this big and with a crime to hide, Sherlock reasoned Earl Everheart must have made sure nothing would get out of it. He noticed that several men were guarding the doors all around the place and cursed. Fighting was out of the question, with this many people witnessing it and ganging up on him.
Don’t give up Liam, I’m coming.
He silently made his way through the corridors. There were doors where no men were stationed, and then there were some where many guards were present. Still, it was easy to deduce which one held Liam; the door in the deepest part of the basement, where no more than six of the Earl’s lackeys were on duty.
Sherlock found it a bit overdone to keep one woman from escaping but he figured the Everheart wanted to leave nothing to luck or chances.
Sherlock hid behind a pillar and observed the men. He didn’t hear any pained sounds coming from the door- a relief really - and after a few rotations he found the pattern to the guards' behaviour. Feeling he was wasting time, he set his plan into motion.
He pulled out his pen from the inner pocket of his coat, he targeted the oil lamp on the farthest side of the corridor. His aim proving true, the pen collided with the lamp chimney, successfully shattering it with a loud bang. The oil spilled down, onto the carpeted floor of the corridor, quickly catching on fire after a spark made its way down. The guards, in their rush to put out the fire and see what happened, left the door unguarded momentarily. After sufficiently distracting them, Sherlock slipped through the door as silently as he could, hoping that no-one other than Liam would be in the room.
The room was well lit, with Liam sitting bound to the chair, blindfolded and her mouth covered with tape. The relief was instantaneous. Seeing her whole and unharmed by the looks of it, freed some of the tension he was carrying since seeing her getting dragged around. With the door clicking shut behind him, he ran to the middle of the room to help her out.
She perked up at the sound of the door, back rigid and shoulders were singing with tension. She was obviously gearing herself up for resistance so to ease her worries, even for a minute, he spoke softly and calmly:
“Shhh, it’s okay, Liam. It’s me, I’m here.”
He reached out and put a hand on her shoulder to reassure her. That was why it was impossible for Sherlock to miss the way she tensed even more, head whipping towards the sound of his voice. She quickly suppressed the reaction and shook her head, long, golden hair whipping from one side to another.
Sherlock reached for the bounds, first untying the blindfold then removing the tape. She gingerly blinked her crimson eyes open, flinching a bit because of the light in the room. A few seconds later her eyes were on him, her full fury burning behind her eyes.
“What. Are you. Doing. Here?!” Her voice was quiet but insistent, punctuating each word with a hiss. Sherlock crouched before her flabbergasted.
“What do you mean what am I doing here?! I came to save you!”
“Oh for the love of…! You have to get out of here!” Emily’s eyes were darting around, taking careful stock of the room. Sherlock had no doubt she counted the steps she took to get here, as well as the directions to the room she was held in.
“No! Why would I leave you here, alone?!” Sherlock let his confusion slip into his tone. He looked at her, saw her determination and fear clear as day, when normally she would never let him see her true emotions. Something made her panic for a second about Sherlock being here but he was determined to get her out of this place. “Are you mad?! Please tell me this is not some kinky shit you nobles are so fond of.”
The look she gave him could have easily smoldered him to the ground.
“A no to that theory then, I assume?” He chuckled nervously, hurryingly untying the ropes on her person.
With a scratching tone she said, “You have exactly one second to get that idea out of your head, or I will do something we’ll both regret in the long run, Holmes.” She looked downright murderous when she said that.
Ouch.
Half of Sherlock’s mind was kind of bothered how hot he found her while she was threatening him with murder, while the other was deeply offended. And a little embarrassed.
He could deal with Mr. Holmes, even though he’d normally prefer Sherlock. But Holmes? Dripping with sarcasm?
Like he said, ouch.
“I’m still under the impression you have lost your mind, Liam.” Sherlock said, insistently, “I’m not leaving without you.”
She shook her head in exasperation, “I’m perfectly sane, thank you Mr. Holmes. But you have to get out of here! Now! Before they kill you!”
Sherlock made a strangled noise, “And I said I don’t care! What do you think they’ll do to you if I leave you here? I can’t do that!”
Emily thought a change of tactics were imminent, immediately.
She wasn’t about to let him sign his death warrant.
“Sherlock…” she whispered, tone softening a bit as she rubbed her newly freed hands together. She usually wore gloves, Sherlock noted.
Her palms looked calloused.
“Please, they won’t kill me. But they will kill you.” For now, she left unsaid. Or ever, if things went according to plan. Which they were, but Sherlock’s presence here changed the whole plan to the (almost) worst case scenario. She knew he was around the perimeter and anticipated his arrival, but this was far too soon.
Bloody moron with his bloody righteousness.
The detective’s eyes went wide and his hands stilled momentarily at the sound of his given name. “That was the first time you said my name.“ he smiled.
Her legs were free now too and she let a smile grace her face. “Why is this the thing you’re focusing on?” She stood up and dusted off her midnight blue skirt. If the mountain will not come to Muhammad, then Muhammad must go to the mountain. “As you wish, then. Let’s get out together.”
Sherlock visibly lit up at the suggestion, “Finally Liam! C’mon, let’s hurry before they come back here.”
Emily raised an eyebrow, “Do I want to know how you distracted the guards outside?”
“You could probably deduce, couldn’t you?” Sherlock smirked.
She glanced at him, eyes darting from head to toe. Her nostrils flared for a second then smiled at him. The same smile she used during the ‘Catch me if you can, Mr. Holmes.’ dare.
That memory still sent a shiver down his spine.
“You really are a pyromaniac.”
There was something of an approval in her voice.
“Guilty as charged.” He said proudly, smile mirroring hers. “I have so many questions for you about how you got into this mess.” He looked at her meaningfully, and she looked back. The teasing smile of hers faded, and Sherlock instinctively realized that she wouldn't tell him the full story, for reasons yet to be known.
She was about to speak when the door suddenly opened and Earl Everheart walked in looking all smug and relaxed. Around him, the previously stationed six guards were accompanied with even more, rocking up the numbers to a total of thirteen men with their guns aimed at them. One of them had a bandage over his hand.
He reflexively reached for her, putting himself between her kidnappers and Liam.
Emily looked on, eyes resolutely on the Earl’s smirking face. She narrowed her eyes and tipped her chin up as she stared him down. She knew he was not intimidated and with Sherlock’s back to her, she might be able to stall this confrontation for long enough to avoid suspicion and for his team to get in position.
Everheart, however, motioned for his guards to shoot down Sherlock with a flick of his wrists and panic washed over her.
Sherlock was not dying tonight.
He would walk out of this alive. Even if that’d be the last thing she would ever do.
“Don’t. It’s not him you want, it’s me. Let him go.” She protested. It sounded weak to her ears, but it at least rang true. The possible scenarios were quickly unfolding in her mind in rapid order and she had come to the realisation that while there are many endings awaiting them, one factor is constant in all of them.
Sherlock would learn of the truth.
It was just a matter of how and when.
With all the inevitable facts in her life, Emily plotted to somehow turn it to her favour. She knew there was no escaping this; either she killed Everheart right here and now so he wouldn’t have the opportunity to tell Sherlock and thus condemn herself, or Everheart would spill the tea to hurt Sherlock and get him angry enough to maybe confront her himself. Moran and Fred still needed more time and with Louis absent too, her possibilities were severely limited.
She had resigned herself to this fate. It was not ideal but she couldn’t die here of all places. There were still plans to set in motion, to scheme until they arrive at the ‘Final Problem’.
Sherlock would just have to deal with it somehow.
Hopefully.
But first things first, she would ensure that they were not about to get themselves killed by a rather disgusting pervert.
“Why would I do that? I’m the one in charge here.” Everheart mocked them both. Sherlock made a face at that. “The one who pulls the strings and decides about life and death.” The Earl made a grandius motion with his hands, like he was a god or a higher being.
A demon playing God.
How revolting.
“Don’t be so arrogant.” Sherlock nearly spitted. Emily couldn’t see his face but placed a hand on top of Sherlock’s in a discreet manner, hoping to calm him somehow. The hand under hers twitched, then moved to link their fingers together. She risked a glance and felt a blush rising up to her cheeks. She was suddenly infinitely glad that Sherlock was taller and wider than her.
Unfortunately, this was not the time to admire him.
“Would you mind keeping your dog on a tighter leash? His yapping is annoying.” Came the bored reply. Everheart looked utterly unperturbed and both Sherlock and Emily tensed.
“What did you just say to me?!”
“Oh shut up. I’m not here for you. She was right about that, you know, little detective.” The Earl’s smirked turned downright evil and Sherlock braced himself even more for a fight. There was not much he could do right now. While he knew, under normal circumstances, Emily would be more than capable of taking care of herself, it still irked him that somehow this goon of a man managed to kidnap her.
Everheart was so going down, Sherlock decided. Like he’d ever let a man like him put his filthy hands on Liam.
“Sherlock…” She tried to placate him in any way and prolong this conversation. She needed time and she could already see where they were about to end up.
She knew some part of Sherlock suspected her, but maybe he didn’t think she was capable of doing such horrible things.
If there was one good reason to be a woman, it was that men usually thought them damsels in distress and never looked under the surface. She had taken full advantage of this fact several times but she was pleasantly surprised how Sherlock’s objectivity was not clouded by gender roles. Certainly, the detective still thought the Lord of the Crime and Emily were two different persons, but if the train accident was anything to go by, Sherlock was open to other possibilities.
“Oh la la. Would you look at that. First name basis already? Do you think it’s wise, My Lady?” Everheart winked at her and she felt thoroughly disgusted with the whole affair. Had it not been for Sherlock here, she’d have eviscerated this scum from the face of earth by this time.
“I’ll show you first name basis the second your goons put those guns down and I can get my hands on you.”
The Earl shook his head, distaste evident in his voice. “Tsk. I’m not an idiot, Mr. Holmes. Have a little faith in me.”
“Afraid of me, eh?” Sherlock challenged.
“Not at all. I’m more afraid of that woman behind you. She’s the most dangerous among us all.” The lilt of his voice promised danger and her heartbeat sped up when the words registered. From the corner of her eye, she saw Sherlock glancing back at her with a confused expression on his face.
“What…”
He must have noticed, he must have, Emily reasoned. He will know it soon. He’ll put the clues together and he will know.
“What, did the cat get your tongue? What’s the problem, Lady Emily? Is there something you don’t want this dog of yours to know? How sad.”
“Quiet.” Her voice, cold as ice, made Sherlock hesitate for a second. He looked towards her and found her eyes, usually a warm and bright hue of crimson, boiling and smouldering with intense hatred. At that moment, they looked more like two drops of crystallised blood.
It can’t be, can it…?
“I’m not afraid of you, Miss Moriarty. I outwitted you. I was right and I outsmarted you. Checkmate, sweetheart.” He stepped closer, ash blond hair swaying with the motion. He’d have reached for Emily, had Sherlock not hit his hand away.
“Don’t touch her,” he growled.
Everheart cleaned his hand with a handkerchief like something dirty touched it. “Her prince in shining armour, is that what you think you are to her?” His tone was mocking. “Poor detective, you’re not really good at your job, are you? Or is it more likely you have been blinded by your own senses?”
“Shut up.”
“I shall not. I think he should hear it, shouldn’t he, My Lady?”
Emily steeled herself as best as she could. She felt exhaustion creeping up on her, but she still had time. “Your fate has been set since the beginning, Everheart. Do not cross me. You’re just making it worse.”
She would make sure he was going down. Just a matter of time.
“Liam…?” Sherlock’s voice was less confused than before, no doubt nearly reaching the inevitable, irrefutable truth.
“You truly have a great sense of humour, Miss Moriarty. But I think introductions are in order, aren't they?”
Everheart made a grand gesture like he was on a stage and dramatically bowed before the two of them.
“Let me introduce you to one another! Detective Consultant Sherlock Holmes, I introduce you to the Queen of the Underworld, the famed Crime Consultant, the “Lord” of Crime, Emily Amelia Moriarty!”
Time stopped. Or it felt like it did. Emily was acutely aware of Sherlock’s body in front of her. Of how he seized up even more and refused to look at her. She could also see the smugness particularly radiating from Everheart and she felt a weight settle heavily on her shoulders.
No turning back now.
“In the flesh.” Everheart finished and smirked as he watched how the two dealt with the harsh truth.