The Impossible Case

Chapter 1

~~~POV2~~~

I never thought I would see Jackson again. I thought that when he left, he would return when he was ready to. But after a year and a half, with no signs of him... I thought he was dead.

Sherlock never stopped looking, of course. It's what he does. He was certain Jackson was still alive, but I didn't see it. It didn't seem like Jax. Sherlock was tracking murders, thefts, kidnappings, arson....

But I never thought Jax would do all that again. I didn't understand why he would do those things. I still don't. Even when facing down the barrel of a gun held by the man himself.

Really, the gun is at Sherlock, who stands in front of me. Thank God we left Violet back home.

"Jackson, we just want to help you," Sherlock says evenly.

Jax seems distressed and refuses to look at Sherlock directly.

"Oh, just shoot him already," A familiar voice says, standing somewhere hidden from view.

Jax then turns and shoots at the voice, but nothing happens. He seems startled and drops the gun, then backs up into a wall. The owner of the voice steps into view, Moriarty himself.

"Disappointing, as always," The man sighs, he kicks the gun aside in a bored manner. "I thought we'd gotten past this."

"Fuck you," Jax spits.

"Rude," Moriarty says then snaps his fingers.

Two large identical men appear and head straight for Jax, whatever is happening, this seems to be normal for them.

Jax tries to punch his father, but is grabbed by one of the large men, the other grabs him as well and they drag him down the hall, him trying to fight himself free the whole time. One of the men takes Jax into a room, the other stands outside.

"I wouldn't have let him kill you, Sherlock," Moriarty says with a slight grin, "That wouldn't be any fun at all."

"What have you done to him!?" Sherlock demands, having seen something I didn't.

It's times like this I wish I could deduce like my father. The next thing I hear is screams of pain from down the hall, sickening me as I recognize it as Jackson.

"Simply encouraged him to do as he's told," Moriarty answers. "It's taken nearly two years for him to just do what he's told without fighting." Another scream rips through the air, making me flinch, "And then you lot showed up, and he's right back to square one. Thanks for that. I was making progress."

"Why are you doing this? What has he done to deserve it?"

"He was trained for this, Sherlock. Right from the very moment his mother left," Moriarty explains, pacing the width of the hallway, only a few steps really, "Moran didn't do it quite right. Just pissed him off, really. He is nothing more than a tool, a thing for my own use."

"You're sick!" I yell at him, "He is your son! How could you be so detached like that?"

"He betrayed me, for you lot." Moriarty scowls at me, "The Moriarty name lost meaning while I was gone, due to him. Even before then, when he killed Moran. People hear things. You really think those Germans who kidnapped him attacked because I was gone? They went after him because of the power struggle evident in his actions. It was only a bonus I wasn't around to kill them myself. I wouldn't have done it for him, it would have been because they thought they had something over me." He takes a few more steps and then stops, looking directly at me, "His loyalty is something I still don't quite grasp. His unwavering loyalty to you, when you've done nothing for him. And his loyalty to me, who not only gave him life, but gave him food, shelter, family, everything he would ever need to be successful..."