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Tweak says, "bite me, thats right, bite me!"

Willa MacKenzie Thompson ♘ Professor J. Moriarty (crimelord) wrote in thereincarnates,
@ 2012-03-05 10:18:00

Entry tags:

jonas aldred, willa thompson

Who: Willa Thompson and Jonas Aldred
What: Sherlock pays Moriarty an expected visit
Where: One of Camelot's holding facilities
When: Monday evening, March 5th, 2012
Warnings: Who even knows.

After only three days of being locked in this lifeless cell, Willa Thompson was sure she was going to lose it. Cages weren't her strong suit, not when her mind already was one. At least outside of this place she had an outlet; several in fact. A thousand different ways to express the never ending rage and violence that coursed through her veins. After her confrontation with Charlotte Evans the day before, Willa had refused to speak to anyone else. Not a word, each time a guard came down to assess her she said nothing, her face a stoney mask of barely concealed insanity. She'd never been sane, far from it, and even less so once Professor James Moriarty had taken hold of her all those years ago, but after leaving her locked in a cell with no windows for three days it was really beginning to show.

That was the terrible truth (or one of them) to Jim Moriarty: For as well put together as he was, it really didn't take much for him to begin to unravel.

So here she was, three days later sitting in the same position she had been. On her cot, knees bent, back flat against the wall. Sometimes she got up but only to pace strategically around the room before returning to her former seating arrangement, and even that repetition was beginning to drive her slowly mad. It wasn't until Daniel Morgan himself came down to see her the night before that she finally uttered two words and two words only, her face neutral but her eyes wild.

"Get Sherlock." And then she waited.

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highfunctioning
2012-03-05 07:27 pm UTC (link)

Get Sherlock. The words resonated in the mind of Jonas Aldred. That's all she's said since. Get Sherlock. He adjusted the collar of his jacket against his neck, swallowing something akin to anticipation down back into his chest. They'd denied him the ability to smoke once stepping on Camelot property, and to be quite earnest, his every nerve was twitching excitedly. How long had it been since their last meeting? (He did actually know that, of course. Down to the precise minute) How long had it been since he'd looked into the eyes of his archenemy? Too long.

One text in regards to the reincarnation of James Moriarty and Jonas' mind was already beginning to unravel. Thoughts built themselves up all to fall back down again. Over and over again. Why was she here? She walked into this place willingly. James Moriarty and Willa Thompson did not go anywhere they did not wish to go. There was a much larger game afoot, and all these reincarnated tales of whimsy had no idea. No fathomable clue.

With his hands down inside his coat pockets, he stepped before the door of the holding facility. He glanced to the man overseeing its security and was granted access instantaneously. The door closed behind him as he entered its doorway, and he could feel something hammering in his ears. There she sat, a queen on her throne, or rather, now a snake in its hole, looking disgusting. Biding her time.

Jonas lifted his chin, feet remaining firmly in one spot. His jaw clenched. It took little to no time at all to assess everything she'd done in her days (now three) within the cell. "Get Sherlock," he said, his blue eyes finally falling back upon Willa after his brisk deduction of the cell. "It would appear, once more, you have gotten what it is you want. In more ways than one, I should think, Miss Thompson."

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crimelord
2012-03-05 08:04 pm UTC (link)

As if on cue, Willa Thompson came alive at the sight of Jonas Aldred standing on the other side of her prison cell. Perhaps you couldn't see it all too clearly, there were very few lights in the building that weren't obnoxiously dim so her face was half hidden in shadows, but her eyes grew noticeably brighter as their equally sharp gazes met each other's from across the room.

It was almost sweet, if they weren't mortal enemies.

"I always get what I want, Jonas." Her tone was low, much more venomous now than it would have been three days ago. She didn't have the patience to mask it in her voice any longer, this was Willa unplugged. They were far past pretenses now anyway, her and Jonas. Her very own Sherlock.

Her only regret was that she did look rather terrible. After three days of being reduced to a bucket and a bar of soap, her clothes were wrinkled and even her hair was a mess around her face. But none of that mattered now, now that she had indeed gotten everything she wanted. She didn't move a muscle except to incline her head an inch in his direction, the faintest smirk playing in the corners of her mouth. "One way or another."

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highfunctioning
2012-03-05 08:21 pm UTC (link)

It was quite the sight, seeing Willa in such a way. If he cared much at all for appearance, the vision of her looking such a wreck might send him to the far end (which wasn't too distant a ways) of the cell. Instead, it only made him want to draw nearer, to investigate the effect the place was having on her. Had it not been for the dim light, he might not have caught the glimmer in her eyes. It was repulsive, really, how much more interested the two became at the image of one another.

Poetic.

"Is that what this is about?" He asked, casting another look around the cell. "Getting what you want?" Jonas finally moved from the door, walking into the center of the cell to get a clearer picture of this version of Willa before him. Jena warned him not to do anything stupid. Which meant don't do anything clever. She might as well have been commanding a bird not to fly, a fish not to swim. His face remained a blank slate.

"Then I suppose congratulations are in order," Jonas fingered his cell phone in his pocket. It was turned off, as he knew good and well Jena might be trying to get into contact with him this very minute. He couldn't take the risk of a distraction. Not when Willa was being so delightfully interesting. "As here I am." He quirked a single brow. "Intriguing choice of meeting place, though, I must say. Have you been redecorating?"

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crimelord
2012-03-05 08:41 pm UTC (link)

They'd opened the door for Jonas, actually let him inside her 'hole', but for whatever reason she hadn't expected him to walk in. It pleased her to no end, to see that he was still just as captivated as ever. Completely incapable of staying away, though the fact that he came at all when she'd called was already proof enough of that.

"The carpet man actually just left," she responded without a beat, smirking plainly now as she tolerated his need to always have something smart to say. Good old Sherlock, always had to have the last word. But she always had to have the last laugh, didn't she? What a pair they made.

She didn't move a muscle at first when he walked into her cell, only her eyes followed him. She wasn't exactly powerful in strength, all her power lay in her mind, but in here even that wouldn't be enough to do any real harm to him so he was safe in here with her. They both knew that. Then again, the best ways to get to him had always been through others. That much hadn't changed either...

"And how's the doctor doing these days, hm?" Her eyes betrayed the excitement that she wouldn't allow to overcome her features, quietly relishing in the success of that night she'd sent Christian to Jena's house. She looked at Jonas pointedly, not bothering to hide how much she wanted to see him react. "Still having nightmares or is she finally sleeping soundly?"

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highfunctioning
2012-03-06 07:44 pm UTC (link)

It took not a moment's passing for Willa to mention Jena. Jonas was no fool, he knew precisely who had attempted to enter Jena's home in Boston weeks ago. Though not Willa herself, it was, indeed, the woman pulling the strings behind the action. Two men were in her home that evening, of this he knew. One, tall, broad and brash. The other managed to leave just bare traces of his footsteps in the carpet. This one appeared nothing more than a spectre, eluding even Jonas' genius. Which led him to believe that he, being out in the world somewhere, was far more dangerous than one mortal man should be. Only two names circulated his mind.

"I never took you for one so caring," Jonas said, without even a flicker of emotion in his eye. It would not do well to give away his tender spots so soon. Though, he often claimed to have none. Especially not when it came to the good Doctor. To Jena. She was much more than a friend these days, and after the advance made to kill her, he found it was his duty to look after her. He owed it to her, to Watson, and to Sherlock. Jonas took a simple, long step back until his back was placed upon the cell wall, though his eyes never left Willa's face.

"No answer of mine will make a difference, let's not pretend that it might." His chin leaned upward a moment and his line of vision moved down the bridge of his nose. "And your marksman," it was more of an educated guess than anything, but still he continued onward, "how is his state of being?" Jonas knew very well of Sebastian Moran. If it had truly been him within Jena's home, how long had he trailed after the two of them? He could be anywhere at anytime. Reincarnation made a dangerous man absolutely lethal, and he would not be underestimating the idea of Moran any time soon. Especially not in this life.

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crimelord
2012-03-07 04:17 am UTC (link)

Nothing registered in Willa's features at the cleverly veiled mention of Sebastian Moran, nothing to give away one of her best kept secrets. Of course she had assumed Jonas would come to this conclusion eventually, he wasn't a fool. But that didn't mean she was going to give up their dear Moran so freely, and not without a fight. Like Jonas, she didn't care to appear to have any tender spots either, but if she did, she saved them all for Christian. ... What actually passed for tender where they were concerned anyway. What seemed tender to them probably didn't pass for anything less than brutal to anyone else.

She sniffed delicately, eying Jonas closely where he stood back by the cell wall, her eyes never leaving his either. Every word, every look was a challenge between the two of them. Would one of them ever break? Time would only tell.

"I have many a man under my employment, Mr. Aldred, and most of them marksmen in some form or another," Willa replied in a bored voice, silently hoping that her marksman was making good use of his time without her. She knew he'd do her proud, just like he always did. And usually that thought was enough to content her for awhile, but now she was only itching to be out of this damn cell and witnessing the fruits of his labor for herself. He always did such fine work for her, her Christian. "I'm afraid you'll have to be a bit more specific."

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highfunctioning
2012-03-07 04:36 am UTC (link)

At this rate, they would truly take all evening. Perhaps Camelot should have left him with a time limit, some sort of restraint. Then again, when did those ever do the great Sherlock Holmes any good? "Indeed," he stated simply. His two forefingers pressed into the curve of his chin for a moment, before slipping back down into his pockets once more. "Perhaps another time."

Jonas nodded his head curtly. "Let us, instead, move to the more dominant elephant in the room, shall we?" He glanced around to underline his emphasis. "It would appear that the uncatchable has been caught. Why is that, I wonder?" Though the answer was insultingly simple now that he could see her here in the light. Willa Thompson was here because she wanted to be.

"What could you possibly gain from this?" His eyes met her in a shrill gaze. "From me?" She could be speaking with anyone, have anything she demanded, and yet, she called upon him. Upon Sherlock Holmes.

Why?

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crimelord
2012-03-07 08:07 am UTC (link)

"You're asking the wrong questions."

Willa was shaking her head now, correcting him with the urging patience of a teacher attempting to get her student to see things from her eyes. She knew he could, and in an incredibly twisted way she had more faith in him than most. Like Sherlock, he just needed a little... push in the right direction.

She finally rose to her feet then, much like rising to the challenge he was setting for her and her for him. She only walked a few steps forward, arms hung loosely at her sides as she observed her long time enemy from just a few feet away. It pleased her to know that he'd already deduced that she was here of her own free will, it meant that he was already good at anticipating her. Most enemies wouldn't count that as a blessing, but Willa desired a much more equal race. She couldn't enjoy it as much if they couldn't learn to get inside each other's heads. That was where the real fun could begin.

She gave him a long, considering look, taking another decisive step forward to show that she still had the floor. Even in a prison cell you shouldn't be surprised to know that Willa Thompson still sought to command attention and reign supreme. "Think, Jonas. It's not the what, or the why. It's the how."

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highfunctioning
2012-03-08 07:27 pm UTC (link)

It's the how.

Just like that, Jonas' mind was already whizzing into oblivion. Thought after thought tumbled this way and that, like a catalogue of ideas and phrases and information. If his mind were a hard drive, someone had just inserted a whole new terabyte of information and it was moving fast. Streams of the exciting and the horrifying crossed his subconscious. Nothing got his mind moving like this. Nothing but Willa's mind.

His hands slowly came to his back, resting there as he linked his fingers through one another. "The how," his back straightened and it was clear just who was starting to take over in that instant. "How were you able to do it? Easily. You and your partner, Mister Kingsley, is it? Devised a plan to get yourselves caught. Camelot fell for it willingly, believing themselves the victor. You want something, they want something else entirely. Your motives are selfish, theirs are selfless." He started forward, circling Willa slowly, a hunter and its prey. The fisherman and the trout.

"How is it that you, who appears immune to the outside arm, has enabled herself to fall so low? To get what she wants? To get me here? Patience." He stopped before her, Jonas' eyes meeting Willa's in a proximity some would consider romantic, intimate. "I have something that these people can't give you. That no one — not even your reincarnated Colonel — could ever give you. And that, Miss Thompson, is how you were able to get me here."

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crimelord
2012-03-09 12:59 am UTC (link)

"Mmm. Mr. Holmes. There you are." Willa's smile twisted into something a little more sinister, and maybe for one split second her voice dropped, so that the Professor himself shone through to greet his old enemy once Sherlock had surfaced in Jonas. But then Willa was back, because as similarly crooked as the two were, it was rarely comfortable for the both of them to be at the forefront at once. Willa much preferred it when they took turns, but of course his were sweetly briefer. Theirs was a harmonious relationship though, in case that wasn't already painfully obvious. Even if the Professor didn't spend much time in complete control, he was an influence in everything she did. Everything. Especially now.

She watched Jonas carefully, relishing the way she could practically see the wheels turning in his brilliant mind. A mind, that she and Moriarty both agreed, was almost as brilliant as their own. Something about that less frontal lobe development than expected. Still, she couldn't and wouldn't deny his own cleverness, of anybody it was Jonas alone who could ever actually earn her praise in this way and in some ways already had. She did so love how he so constantly rose to her occasion.

"Intriguing, is it not?" Willa didn't move as he began to circle around her in that delightfully predatory fashion, only her head moved. Tilting it slightly to the side with a secretive smile as she watched him continue to circle her and work out all those delightful little equations in his head. When he stopped so close to her and met her eyes she didn't hesitate to look back, her own silently challenging him in the same sort of fashion as he was challenging her. Then she let out a laugh, looking at him incredulously like he'd just said something completely ridiculous. "And what, pray tell, do you think you can give me that no one else can? For the woman who already has everything...?"

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highfunctioning
2012-03-10 01:22 am UTC (link)

The differences between Sherlock and Jonas were really very slim. When one voice overpowered the other, there was no tangible change. It was the stature that truly gave them away. Still, even then, it didn't particularly matter. The men were one in the same down at the core of things. The same could simply be said for Willa and her counterpart. Which made the two of them one side of the other's coin. If Jonas or Sherlock believed in fate, he would see it in the eyes of Willa Thompson.

"We never left," he stated simply, though whether this was Jonas or Sherlock, it now remained unclear. The look on her face said all she needed to say, but it was the laugh that really did the trick. People held a tendency to mock danger, chuckle at even the slightest bit of something difficult to comprehend. Willa laughed to spite. It was intriguing, he would give her that. Ever the puzzle, Professor Moriarty. He just so happened to be an enygma he could understand. Still, hearing her ask him a question did bring ever the proud smile to the reincarnated detective's mouth.

"Really?" He asked, tilting his head just enough to accentuate is quirked brow. "You mean you don't know?" Jonas face lifted in mock, sudden interest. He took another stroll around her back, but this time, he stopped in order to speak at her directly in line with his shoulder. "Think, Willa. After all, it was you whom asked for me. Not the other way around. Do you know why you did? Was it impulse? Fear? Or are you so far gone within the professor himself that you can no understand the way your own mind works?"

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crimelord
2012-03-11 09:51 am UTC (link)

We never left.

No, they hadn't, had they. And yet despite that, they were still as delightfully unpredictable as ever. Willa had to admit the whole thing made her a bit tingly, so perhaps he was right. Maybe he really could give her what no one else could, though she still almost felt the need to defend her Colonel's honor in that statement. They were two very different men in her life, Christian and Jonas. And both gave her pleasure in very different ways.

"Oh, Jonas," Willa nearly purred his name, rolling her eyes dramatically as he circled around her again to speak from her shoulder. He was just so adorable when he went out of his way to make a point. Without answering him immediately she turned swiftly around to face him once more, and getting far too close for comfort. Any minute now those Camelot guards would probably come running down to make sure she hadn't hidden a knife somewhere and was about to lodge it in Jonas' neck. (As if she would kill Jonas this early in the game, that would spoil all her lovely fun.)

"Would any of those answers actually put that mind of yours at ease?" Her smile was deadly and her eyes hooded, they both knew it would never be as simple as that for either of them. That was the beauty of Sherlock and Moriarty, wasn't it? There was never any need for why. They simply were. "If you'd like a simple answer, I can give you one, but we both know you'll never be satisfied with it."

She let out an exaggerated groan then, invading his personal space by drawing herself a threatening step closer to him and ducking her head to the side. "I've been so bored, Jonas. So bored... It's excruciating." She hissed the last word, her expression turning venomous as the sudden spark in her eyes now mocked him. "You should know by now that sometimes we just do things because we can."

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highfunctioning
2012-03-13 01:33 am UTC (link)

It was a difficult thing to wrap his mind around, doing things because one could. Sometimes Jonas found himself wondering how it was people could live on impulse, but it never seemed a serious worry when pondering the existence of James Moriarty. No, this was something about him and her that he knew very well. Excruciatingly well. How could he let that idea slip his mind? Oh, right. He hadn't. When around Willa, Jonas couldn't think of anything else. She consumed him from the inside out. Some may call that romantic; he called it distracting.

"Perhaps you ought to consider a hobby. Murderous intent can only get a person so far, and I'm sure The Resistance is getting along just swimmingly without you." Jonas took a step back, regaining the upper hand when it came to who stood where. "Don't think for a moment that I have forgotten what you're capable of. You may have this trite faction fooled, but it's what you can't do that should have them frightened."

He looked down into Willa's face. She mocked him, but he watched her as though she were nothing more than a science project. "I have all the answers I need." His lids narrowed and his lip curled. "But the question is," Jonas leaned in, his mouth practically flush against her ear. "Do you?" He stood upright, adjusting the collar of his coat. He turned on his heel, feet towards the door.

In his own way, Jonas understood what that meant. Being bored. But that wasn't the end of all things. This was only the beginning. He knew it as well as she did. Who could tell what sort of devastations were to come next? Now that Willa Thompson and Robert Kingsley had been inside the headquarters of her makeshift enemy. He didn't know. He didn't care. The lives to come and go were not his to worry about. Willa was his responsibility. This they all knew. This they couldn't forget.

"I think we're finished here. Thank you for your hospitality, Professor. We really should do this again. Sometime soon."

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crimelord
2012-03-14 01:22 am UTC (link)

Willa merely grinned, fully relishing the moment she was sharing with him. For all that the detective boasted, it was clear to her now that both he and Jonas were floundering. She knew it wouldn't last, and she wouldn't have wished it to. Holmes was much more exciting to her when he was hot on her trail, and she didn't hold it against him that he was still a bit slow in picking up the pace. Sherlock may have been well used to her and the Professor, but Jonas was still brand new to this. With time, she'd break him in. Good and proper.

Her blue eyes glittered dangerously as he stepped back, chastising her on her choice of hobbies. Oh, Holmes. Must you always be so painfully obvious? She said nothing, merely fixed him with an unreadable look as he went on, memorizing the way the muscles in his face twitched as he spoke to her with such barely held contempt. It was fascinating. Everything about him was just fascinating.

When he finally took his leave, Willa didn't stop him. Her grin merely widened as he couldn't help himself from leaning in close to her to make his point. "You really must stop whispering sweet nothings into my ear like this, Jonas. The doctor might find himself jealous."

Her tone was just as mocking, and then she watched him leave, standing as still as a statue in the center of her cell. Jonas wouldn't have any idea until he got home, but she in fact would have all the answers she needed, and soon. The poor detective was so blinded by her, he didn't think to factor in why Willa might need to call him away from his home so suddenly. For as they'd been speaking, her own dear Colonel was currently breaking and entering into the flat marked 221B, just as they'd planned.

"Soon, Mr. Aldred. Very soon."

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