Moriarty's Musician

Purging the Demons, Part 2

Moriarty shifted in the armchair as he waited for Sherlock. Everything was coming together nicely. He'd already taken out one member of the House of Lords and it wouldn't take much to bring the rest to their knees. Hell, blackmail was so invigorating! 

He chuckled as he thought about the Prime Minister. According to his sources, Magnussen had taken many jaunts to his offices. Annabelle must know why.

Annabelle. Why was she always in his thoughts? He leaned his face against his hand as he recalled the fear in her eyes as she looked up at him. He had hurt her again, just as his stepfather had done so many times to him. Moriarty rubbed his eyes as he thought about her words. 

Magnussen had planned to use her as bait to find out his pressure points. He gritted his teeth as he remembered her music, the very same piece his mother played for him after his stepfather's frequent beatings. So, Annabelle knew his weakness. 

He wiped a hand over his face. If she did mean to blackmail him with it, why would she tell him of Magnussen's plan? Why would she tell him she'd heard the music in her dreams then be so upset at his reaction? It didn't make any sense.

Moriarty straightened in the chair as Sherlock entered the flat.

Sherlock glanced at Moriarty as he took off his overcoat, tossed it on the sofa and continued on to the kitchen, setting down a little box on the table. "Forgive me if I don't offer you tea."

"You took your time getting back. And here I thought I had your undying attention. I'll have to fix that."

"What took you so long, Jim?"

Moriarty laughed as he watched Sherlock take the chair opposite him.

"So you did miss me. I'm tickled. It feels like we've been apart for ages. I've so much to tell you."

Sherlock's lips pressed into a thin line. "Let me guess. You're enjoying your little game of manipulating Miss Watson."

Moriarty's eyes gleamed as he wrinkled his nose. "She's a lovely treat, isn't she? She has so much potential to wreak havoc on those asses you're always coddling. Did you hear about my latest slaughter?"

"Your handiwork in Lord Jansen's conviction? Impressive."

"Oh, you're wrong, Sherlock. That was Annabelle's handiwork. I was just the messenger of death. You know how much I enjoy the role. I have all his friends shaking in their boots."

Sherlock leaned back in his chair as his mouth set in a tight smile. "So, you were able to put a raging pedophile out of Parliament and behind bars. Bravo. I'm glad to see your little musician is having a positive effect on you. Already you've helped society."

Moriarty inclined his head, unfazed by Sherlock's sarcasm. "Just one of the juicy tidbits Annabelle has locked away in that beautiful brain of hers." 

He smiled as he leaned forward in his chair. "Let me ask you this, why did you shoot Magnussen in the head? Annabelle tells me he reveled in exploiting one's angels. What did Magnussen have on John, Sherlock? Surely, he's your only angel. Oh no, wait." Moriarty brought his finger to his chin and pursed his lips. "You did attend your mother's little gathering the night you killed Magnussen. Your mother and father are happily married, aren't they?"

Sherlock looked at him stone-faced, but Moriarty could see his eyes narrow slightly.

"You must've had a wonderful childhood, Sherlock. With all those angels in your life, you're quite fortunate." Moriarty sneered. "Or quite unfortunate."