Sherlock: Carpe Diem

May I have this Waltz?

Author's Note: I am a sadistic person. I do not own the Masque of the Red Death.That belongs to the lovely Edgar Allen Poe. All I own is the extreme shippy overtones in this chapter. I apologize for everyone who does not like my ship. You'll see what it is as you read :)

"The what?" Lestrade and John asked.

"It's a short story written by Edgar Allen Poe. It's about a disease coming to this kingdom and the Prince and all the royals, hide up in their palace and do nothing to help their kingdom. At a masquerade, held by the king, somebody with the disease sneaks in and spreads it to everyone in the palace, killing them all." Tessa said.

"Christ." Lestrade said, running his hand through his hair.

"How is this going to lead us to anything?" John asked.

"Simple enough. There is a masquerade at Buckingham Palace tonight. Of course it is all by invitation, but I'm sure that Moriarty somehow managed to not only place himself on the list, but us as well." Sherlock said.

"Though I do doubt that you'll be invited, Inspector. Apologies, but I highly doubt Moriarty wants you there." Tessa said.

"What's the point in leading us to a masquerade? He wouldn't dare try to kill somebody there, would he?" Dynah asked.

"We can never predict what he is going to do. He cares very little about the authorities catching him. He has much more important things to be concerned with." Sherlock said, walking away from the crime scene.

There was something off about Moriarty's behaviour. About this whole part of the game. Sherlock knew that Jamie had planned most of this out, evident by the fact that most of the pieces of literature chosen were by some of her favourite authors. Edgar Allen Poe, J.R.R Tolkien. But why The Masque of the Red Death? That wouldn't have been Jamie's idea at all, that would have been entirely Moriarty. Sherlock pulled out his phone and typed out a text.

"We need to meet.-SH"

To which the reply was instantaneous.

"Took you long enough.-JM xx"

They made there way back to 221B Baker Street and upon arrival, all sat down, completely exhausted after the long day of playing Moriarty's game. Sherlock was the only one who was up and alert, knowing that he had to meet Moriarty soon. Of course he wasn't going to tell Dynah, Tessa, or John about this because they would automatically say no and try to stop him from leaving which would waste his valuable time. Sherlock waited until they all dispersed from the sitting room. John going into the kitchen, while Tessa and Dynah went upstairs. He snuck out of the flat and made his way down to Baker Street tube station and took the train to Carnaby Street. He got off at Oxford Circus and made his was down to The Diner, a restaurant on Carnaby. It was very Americanized, but Sherlock assumed that was the appeal behind it. Sherlock walked inside and noticed the place to be extremely dark, most of the colours around the restaurant being a scarlet red or a white. Sherlock looked around and spotted the grinning man in the dark Westwood suit. He made his way towards the table and took a seat across from him.

"Sherlock." Moriarty grinned.

"Moriarty." Sherlock glared.

"Oh Sherlock, formalities are no longer necessary. You can call me Jim."

"I would prefer not to, but I'm assuming you won't give me another option."

"Correct, Sherly." Jim smiled.

A waiter came by and dropped two drinks onto the table. Both of them looked like milkshakes, but Sherlock could tell that there was something off about them. Jim picked on up and took a sip, eyes rolling into the back of his head, clearly over exaggerating how good it was, before looking back to Sherlock.