Miss Me? (Jim Moriarty Fanfic)

-Miss Me?- Chapter Eleven

Hello, guys! :) Just thought I'd let you know that some scenes in this chapter are going to be very disgusting and gory and all that! Kind of like Dexter, although Dexter isn't really that gory. Okay, more like a scene from something like Reservoir Dogs or American Psycho. Let's just say it's gonna be disturbing to read for some readers if you don't like blood, torture, ect. Ooh, and this is the third last chapter! Enjoy!

*Moriarty's POV*

I was actually going to wait a few more days to start but this excitement was just killing me so why not begin now? Although, I guess I shouldn't use the term 'begin'. I should probably use the term 'end' if you know what I mean.

So, I quickly got into a different car rather than my limo and drove to a near enough place next to 221B so that I could watch in amusement.

Sherlock and John walked out of their apartment, looking around with confusion to try and find who had been calling them. Then, before they even knew it, two of my men grabbed them and shoved a cloth over their faces which caused them to pass out from the medication. And they were dragged into the limo which I followed all the way to the destination we were going to.

Once the limo had finally stopped right near the secret place we were going to, I also stopped a few feet behind them. Sherlock and John were obviously still out of it so my two men dragged them over their shoulders into the big house. They gave me a quick nod when they saw me.

"Excellent work, boys", I smirked at them, tipping them overly generous amounts of money.

"Thanks, boss", one of them said who's name wasn't important enough to remember.

"You know where to go", I glanced knowingly at them, "Take them there, drop them then leave. Got it?"

They nodded quickly and hurriedly went into the house. I clapped my hands together and exhaled the fresh air excitedly before waiting for the two men to come out again. They walked out, waiting for approval. I stood there, glaring at them until I finally shouted at them to piss off. They ran off, obviously scared of me.

I eventually also walked into the massive house and then I finally entered 'The Room'. Oh, I had been waiting for this for years now and it was about to happen. I couldn't contain the excitement within me.

I opened the door and walked in, making sure to securely lock it behind me.

I smiled satisfactorily at the two passed out men on the floor in front of my very eyes. Then, I grabbed Sherlock first (after all, Sherlock was the most important person to capture) and threw him carelessly into a metal chair. I did the same with John on another chair. And then I tied them up with rope as harsh as I could with duct tape over their mouths.

It took them about fifteen minutes to finally wake up. They ironically both woke up at roughly the same time (maybe a few seconds in between). They're reactions were very different though. Sherlock rolled his eyes and John looked scared out of his mind.

"Hello, sexy", I joked, all attention towards Sherlock.

I laughed pitifully at John.

"Not you", I scoffed, "I'll deal with you later".

I clicked my fingers and, instantly, a man ran through and dragged John and his chair out, leaving Sherlock and I on our own.

"So, how have you been?" I asked as casually as ever but, of course, he couldn't talk.

He shot me a glare.

"Oh, right", I nodded, pretending to only just realise, "You might want to talk to me, right?"

Sherlock didn't answer but his eyes said 'yes' desperately. I smiled knowingly at him before ripping the duct tape off with an almighty force. But he still didn't say anything.

"I bet your'e having a great time", I laughed cruelly, "I know how much you love dramatic moments like this. Having fun, are we?"

"Worryingly, yes", Sherlock finally answered.

"It's not worrying", I corrected him, "It's intriguing. It proves you're not ordinary".

"Why did you even bother taking that off of my mouth?" Sherlock asked moodily.

"Because I want to hear your desperate, pleading screams", I smirked evilly, "I've been wanting to see you helpless for so long now".

"Well, get on with it then", Sherlock snapped.

"I'm surprised that you don't want a few minutes to say your last words", I raised my eyebrows.

"Well, I always come out with the unexpected", Sherlock stated, no emotion written in his eyes.

"I see", I nodded, "Well, I wouldn't deprive your right of deciding whether you'd like to die now or in five minutes. So, what will it be, my dear?"

"Now", Sherlock replied instantly.

"If you say so", I smirked, walking over to a giant cupboard and opening it.

I browsed the selection of items that I could use to torture him and I eventually decided on a few different deadly weapons.

I got out a small pen knife and observed it closely, nodding with approval. But then I changed my mind and brought out an even bigger knife.

"I've never really been into art and paintings", I randomly said, "But things could change. Although, I suppose there is a rather big difference when the brush is this knife, the paint is your blood and the canvass is Sherlock Holmes' face".

I watched amusingly as Sherlock's eyes turn to fear for literally one millisecond but changed back to confident when he noticed me glancing at him.

Without even thinking about it, I plunged right on Sherlock's lap to get more accuracy and started carving the letters into his forehead with the knife. I felt Sherlock tense when the blood seeped out but he didn't make a sound. When I had finished engraving the letters 'JM' onto his head, I smiled at him and went to get a mirror.

"What do ya think?" I asked, treating him as if he was a patient at a barber shop, "I could make the 'J' a bit more better if you like. You were shaking too much for me to make it perfect".

Sherlock glared at me.

"Are you scared?" I smirked pitifully down at him, "If you are, I dread to think what you're going to be feeling next. I've only just started, sweetheart".