His freedom.
Heathcliff went ahead, dragging Sherlock behind him. Quoth remained on my shoulder as I scrambled along the now-familiar path to the bothy. With every step, my rage surged and the more certain I was that Sherlock was responsible for all of this.
As we emerged over the rock face, the cabin door banged open and Morrie emerged.
“Please tell me you brought back a Bordeaux. I’m going crazy without wine, and that swill you brewed in the toilet bowl is definitely not cutting the mustard—” Morrie froze as he caught sight of Heathcliff dragging Sherlock up the slope. “What’s going on?”
Chapter Thirty
“Sherlock here was just about to explain to all of us why he killed Kate Danvers and her husband.”
“What?” Sherlock spluttered. “Isthatwhat this is about? Surely you don’t believe I—”
“One more lie and I’ll snap your neck.” Heathcliff’s eyes flashed with malice as he shook Sherlock. “I’ll enjoy it.”
“Hang on. I don’t believe this. Sherlock’s a self-centered bastard, but he’s no brutal murderer.” Morrie glanced from my face to Sherlock, then back to me again. “I thought we talked about this, gorgeous. Like you, Sherlock is plagued by those pesky morals. He catches murderers – he has no desire to join their ranks.”
“He did it, Morrie. Dave Danvers was murdered today, and we caught Sherlock at the crime scene.Andhe’s been lying to us from the beginning. Look at this.” I pulled out the photograph and shoved it under Morrie’s nose. “I finally got that meeting with Grant. You were right – Sherlockwastrying to stop us seeing him – so we wouldn’t discover this.”
“Why am I looking at a bunch of dudebros with facial hair vastly inferior to Heathcliff’s scraggly charms?” Morrie frowned at the picture.
“That’s a photograph of the team from Ticketrrr at their leadership retreat – from two years ago. Look who’s in the back row.”
Morrie’s eyes flickered across the paper. He held the photograph out to me. “Thank you, gorgeous.” His voice sounded strange, far away and wooden, devoid of his usual cockiness. He turned to Sherlock.
“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. After all, our whole relationship was a lie – a ploy to get me to trust you so you could dismantle my empire and throw me over a waterfall. But you made a vital mistake coming to this world. You messed with my friends. You upset my girlfriend. And for that, I will enjoy destroying you.”
“I swear, I didn’t kill the girl.” Sherlock struggled against Heathcliff’s grasp. “Get your giant oaf to unhand me, and I can explain.”
“I’ll bash his head open right now, just give me the word,” Heathcliff growled. “It would be my pleasure.”
Morrie’s gaze fell on Heathcliff, and if I’d ever suspected there was something between them, the sparks that flew when their eyes locked blew it into Technicolor. Morrie thrust his hand into his boxers and pulled out the silver dildo. He flicked his wrist, and a thin, gleaning blade slid from the tip.
By Isis.I winced.Where the fuck did he think he’d be sticking that thing?
“I’ll take it from here, Sir Snarkleton.” Morrie advanced, and the vicious grin spreading across his face chilled my blood.
Heathcliff snarled, but he shoved Sherlock to the ground and stepped back. Morrie stared down at his former boyfriend, and the look in his eyes was so sinister it made me shudder.
For the first time, I knew I was looking attheJames Moriarty – the man he had been before Nevermore Bookshop, before Heathcliff and Quoth.Before me.He was no longer my morally-corrupt boyfriend with the devilish smirk. He stood before us as the Napoleon of Crime, ruthless and unfeeling and utterly merciless – the spider with a bite that would kill.
Sherlock’s betrayal had driven him back to his old ways, back to the man he swore he could never be again.
Morrie kicked Sherlock’s side with the sharp tip of his brogues. “The fact that you betrayed me is inexcusable, but you put Mina in danger, and that I will never forgive.”
“If you plan to make me beg, you’ll be sorely disappointed.” Sherlock raised pain-filled eyes to Morrie. “But if you slit my throat now, you won’t get the truth.”
Morrie laughed. “It’s you who always cared about the truth. I’m fine embellishing a little.”
“Do you really want to slit my throat here, in front of Mina?” Sherlock wheedled. “Look at her face, Moriarty. She may be angry with me, but she’s not thirsty for my blood. I might lose my life, but you… you will lose so much more.”
“This is just like our story!” Morrie yelled. “Only this time, I’ll destroy you first, so you can never hurt me again.”
“Don’t you understand? You can never destroy me without also killing a piece of yourself. You don’t need Reichenback to fall, James. We were always going to go over together,” Sherlock shot back. “You and I, locked head to head, our final battle, and the answer to the final problem.”
Morrie’s smirk didn’t falter. “You’re even more messed up than I thought.”
“You don’t get it,” Sherlock screamed. “You had to go. I had to rid London of your pestilence. But I couldn’t live in a world where you don’t exist. I joined you in the churning waters that day, just as I joined you in this hellhole. It’s not my fault my author saw fit to resurrect me after.”
