Miss Me? (Jim Moriarty Fanfic)

-Miss Me?- Chapter Twelve

Hola again, fabulous readers! Even though I warned you last chapter, I kind of should say again that this chapter also contains disturbing scenes because it's basically a continuance of the last chapter I published. So, the last chapter I post after this will literally be the last. So, I hope you will enjoy the rest of this book that I can offer you. Thanks. :)

*Moriarty's POV*

"Oh, this isn't one of them things where you are going to be deadly silent for the whole of this, is it?" I sighed, getting bored already, "I thought you of all people would at least make this a bit interesting. Do what they do in the movies. Yell out for help, scream, beg me for mercy!"

"I've never begged for mercy in my life", Sherlock stated, "And, for God's sake, this isn't a film, Moriarty".

"Yes, but there's people watching us, you see", I spoke darkly.

"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked, "Oh, you haven't recorded this, have you? How sad and pathetic can you get?"

"Careful of what you say-" I punched him straight in the face, "-because everything has a consequence".

I punched him again, this time even harder.

"Besides, I haven't recorded this", I said truthfully, "But there's always someone watching you. And me".

"What on Earth are you talking about?" Sherlock asked, obviously confused.

"They're either looking up at you or looking down at you", I exhaled, "Quite frankly, I prefer the people from beneath seeing as I'm one of them".

"You've lost it", Sherlock spat, "You've completely lost it".

"You're a detective, there's no need to point out the obvious", I rolled my eyes, "Anyway, we seemed to have got lost in conversation then. I almost forgot the whole reason you're here!"

"One more thing", Sherlock said, causing me to stop and look at him.

"Go on", I persisted.

"Is this that room you were talking about?" Sherlock questioned curiously.

"Well done", I applauded him sarcastically, "Of course it is, you pathetic individual".

Sherlock nodded and then gave me a cocky look that made me want to stab him repeatedly in the chest. But, then he would have died quickly. And the whole point of this is was what we like to call 'a slow and painful death'. Music to my ears.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" I suddenly remembered, bringing a black lighter out of my pocket.

"You fell for it too?" Sherlock asked and he began to laugh.

"Fell for what?" I asked, getting irritated at his amusement.

"You believed that I'm scared of fire?" Sherlock scoffed, "Oh, please. I'm not scared of anything".

"Well, we'll see about that, won't we?" I said, not convinced.

It was probably just a trick to try and make me not do anything to him. I walked in front of him, setting my dark eyes upon him and fixing them on his eyes. I knelt down to his tied up arm and grabbed his hand, bringing the lighter closer towards it. I couldn't stop myself from laughing at the pain he was about to feel. Maybe I really am a maniac. I flicked the lighter on which was centre meters away from his index finger. I slowly brought it closer, his hand becoming more and more stiff the closer it came which indicated obvious fear. I smiled with delight as the fire began to burn his finger, peeling away at his skin.

He yelled out in pain. Finally! That was what it took to make Sherlock Holmes scream. I'll keep that in mind for later. But he didn't beg for me to stop.