Richard Brook (England's Best Storyteller) (richardbrook) wrote in expresslogs, @ 2012-03-23 18:33:00 |
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After his afternoon run in with the witch Hermione Granger, Jim took some time to head back to his room, wake Sebastian up and demand the man help him put on some aloe. He didn't know, sometimes, why it was that Moran was so beautifully obedient. He supposed it was the kind of thing that ought to make him want to kick Sebastian in the teeth less when he saw that perfect smile of his--but it really didn't.
Still, sunburn treated he was fit to go back out to the ring of cars that he and Moran had set up earlier and put in the final touches for the evening's main event.
Moriarty didn't want to kill him. That really wasn't what tonight was about. Or tomorrow, or whatever happened to Holmes after he got to see the light show. This was about reminding Sherlock that it wasn't as easy as he thought it might be to stop him from doing what ever the fuck he wanted. This was to remind him just how much pull and power and cunning he had even here because he wasn't about to be underestimated and let them get away with it. Sherlock got a bit of a pass because of who he was, but anyone else could ask Carl Powers what happened when Jim was sold short.
Except they couldn't actually ask him, because he was dead. Long before he had the pull or all the criminal strings in the United Kingom he could still end a person for laughing at him and if Sherlock Holmes thought he was out of his element on this fucking train, then he was wrong. Maybe even dead wrong, if Sebastian could talk him into it.
Moriarty sat at a table in the dining car, he'd laid a rose across the appetiser plate in front of the opposite chair, and waited patiently for Sherlock to arrive. He didn't have to wait long.
"Oh, good God." Moriarty said, rolling his eyes theatrically when he caught a glimpse of Holmes in the doorway. "Do you actually wear that coat everywhere?"