I sat cross-legged in John's chair, staring out the windows. My mind was in a frantic frenzy. I thought about the U.S. ambassador's children and where they were. I thought about Sherlock, John, Lestrade, and Donovan all racing to the scene of the crime, finding clues as to where Moriarty took them.

My hands clenched into fists, I kept them in my lap.

Thinking of children made me think of Darien. The poor woman, she'd done nothing wrong. She always did everything she was told, followed the rules. She had a nice life going for her. I really hoped it didn't discourage her from having a family down the road with Max, if she decided to stay with him forever.

I cringed as my phone went off in the silent apartment. I pulled it out from my pocket. I scowled. It was that same unfamiliar number that wouldn't stop pestering me. I seethed, wishing this person would get the hint that I was never going to answer. Were they hoping to bother me enough to where I would answer? Was this some insistent prankster?

I would think this person was downright stupid, but to call the same number for over a month now? Come on, clearly this person had issues.

There were so many things I wanted to do to my phone right now to end this: throw in the toilet, throw it against the wall, or take a gun in the apartment—if there was one lying around—and blast it into bits. Hmm, better not make a mess of it. Someone—Sherlock—will surely throw a fit. Knowing him, he'd know I'd destroyed my phone.

I'd admit I was tempted to answer, to tell off the person on the other end. Maybe it'd teach them a lesson. Maybe they'd back off. Or, maybe they would continue to bother me, maybe stalk my phone number. If that third option became true, I would get a new number. That would be the end of that problem.

I sighed, letting temptation get the better of me.

"Listen, I don't know what your deal is, but it's obvious you've got the wrong number," I barked. "Stop calling or I'll get the cops on your ass."

"Hello to you too, kitten."

I nearly dropped my phone from shock. I wanted to believe that I was imagining his voice from the other end. I wanted to believe that some punk was doing this to prank me.

How did he get my number? I paled, wondering if he never got rid of it when we had been together. I pushed back all memories associated with Jim Moriarty. I didn't need to have those floodgates open right now.

"I know you're there, Rachel. Don't be ignorant, it's not good manners." I loathed his cheery voice on the other end.

"Shouldn't you be breaking into a museum or something?"

"And waste my time when I have better things to do? Please."

I leapt out of the chair I was sitting in and paced to the windows. "What do you want?"

"I missed the sound of your voice."

"I don't miss yours."

"Boy, you're irritated."

"Gee, I wonder why."

"All I want to do is talk, Rachel, that's all."

"That's right, waste your time with me while you have John and Sherlock on a wild goose chase," I snapped.

"Oh. You're not with them?"

"N-no." I cleared my throat.

"Really? I thought you were their puppy, following them around everywhere."

The grip on my phone tightened. I ended the call, resting my palms against the windowsill.

A low chuckle made the hair on my arms stand on end. I stiffened. Please be in my head. Wait...that's even worse. Either way, I heard Moriarty laugh. And he sounded close...way too close.

"You can't get rid of me that easily, darling."

I didn't turn around; I didn't want to see him. If I did, most likely I would attack him, and it wouldn't end well. I've got to find something to arm myself with. He's not getting any closer than he is now.

"Giving me the silent treatment? That's not very hospitable of you." I heard his shoes walk along the floor.

My jaw locked. "Get out of here." I didn't hide the venom in my voice.

"Or what?" I jumped as my phone was stripped from me. "What will you do?"

I breathed evenly through my nostrils, it didn't help my temper. "People knock nowadays. I think you've forgotten your manners."

"Some things I have, some things I haven't."

I turned my head away as I felt his breath on my ear. "What point are you trying to prove by coming here?"

"Oh, there's no point at all. I just came by to talk. I'm sure Sherlock told you I'd be paying you a visit." I pulled my hands to my body as I felt the slightest touch of his fingertips. He let out a throaty chuckle. "You still don't trust me. Yet, you have to on some level. I mean, how else are you tolerating me this close to you?"

"Believe me, I'm just as surprised as you are."

With strong effort, Moriarty pulled me around so we were face-to-face. I didn't have to look down to know how he was dressed: to the nines, very business-y like always. I remembered the times where he had dressed casually, seeming like an ordinary person.

Of course, that was just an act.

Very little space was between our bodies. If Moriarty thought he could cloud my head with seduction, he would be wrong. I felt nothing for this man, nothing but hate if I had to feel something.

I wanted to poke his eyes out so I didn't have to see the glee dancing in them. I wanted to knee him where the sun didn't shine so he would back off, but we were too close together for me to do anything.

"What did you come here to say?" I demanded.

"I'm disappointed in you, Rachel." He pouted. "Here I thought you would have taken my warning seriously." I slapped his arm as he tried to curl it around my waist. He smiled like the Cheshire cat. "Please, kitten? One little dance, like old times?"

Resentfully, I let Moriarty take me in for a dance. Music definitely wasn't necessary for this, but if it had been, something dark and dangerous would be playing lowly in the background. Maybe the Jaws theme.

I compared this time to the time when we had first done this, back in that hotel room on my first vacation in London. The times contrasted differently but still held one common factor: I was dancing with a murderous psychopath.

"I must say, I'm glad you're still here. I really didn't want to have to track you down. Didn't want to waste all the time and money."

I snorted. "But you would have if you wanted to see me badly enough. You've got an unlimited amount of both." I breathed through my nostrils, glaring into his devious brown eyes. "What are you really here for? Are you going to take me next, like you took those children?"

"Rachel." He shook his head. "You know me well enough by now—"

"That's a sad truth."

"What use would you be to me if I took you?" He leaned forward; I pulled my head back as far as my neck would let me. I wasn't given a lot of escape room.

"Have you come to kill me, then?" My mouth suddenly felt dry. "Did you come here to try again and succeed?" I couldn't swallow past the lump in my throat.

Moriarty laughed. "Don't be stupid, kitten. Don't get me wrong, I'll kill you eventually." This earned a loud gasp from me. I didn't understand why I was surprised when I knew I shouldn't have been. "But why kill you now? You aren't my biggest priority."

"You mean obsession," I corrected him. "We both know Sherlock Holmes is your big obsession right now."

"I'm not denying it. He's the only thing keeping me distracted right now. Ordinary people don't do the job."

"But I'm ordinary, and yet here you are, wasting your time with me."

"You're different, Rachel, in my eyes."

"You're not going to do a sappy thing and hope that I'll come back to you, are you?"

"After you tried to kill me? No. There's no point in trying to win you back when you've clearly chosen your side." All the playfulness left Moriarty's face. "Are you working with them now? Is that why you came back to London?"

"It's my business, not yours."

"It must also be Sherlock's business as well if you sought him out."

I noticed how he didn't say their business, their being Sherlock and John.

I flinched, closing my eyes as Moriarty pressed his forehead against mine. I kept my eyes shut, not daring to stare into his black pits. His hot breath warmed my face. I was sure he could hear my heart pounding in my chest.

"You're afraid of me," he crooned.

"I'm not."

"You are. If you were brave, you would have tried to break free and call the police. But you haven't. So either you're waiting to do so, or you're scared."

"I'm not afraid of you." My voice was stable.

"You lie to both of us, kitten."

"Stop. Calling. Me. That." Each word spewed more venom as they left my mouth.

"You know what I can do to you. You know that I can ruin you."

"You've already done that," I stammered. "Whatever innocence I had left, you killed."

"In this big, bad world we live in, all innocence dies." It suddenly felt strange, to feel my body stop moving. I still didn't open my eyes, not while I still felt Moriarty's forehead on mine. He sighed heavily. "As much as I'd love to continue to get under your skin, I have other places to be. Oh! But one last teeny thing before I go." A strangled gasp jumped out of me as Moriarty practically smashed our bodies together. I trembled, my body ratting me out to him. He snickered under his breath. I felt his breath on my ear. "Once I'm done with Sherlock, I'll come for you." At this, my eyes finally decided to open. "And if you think for one second that you can hide from me, you don't know me as well as you thought."

I whimpered as Moriarty kissed up my neck and finished with a peck on the cheek. I wanted to bolt as one hand rested along my throat. For the smallest moment, I thought we were back in the hotel room and I was about to be strangled.

Moriarty was pushing his luck further by kissing one of the corners of my mouth.

If I knew there would be no consequences into fighting back, I would have done so from the very beginning.

He threw me a chaste smile as he released me. I gulped, standing frozen to the floor. I watched as Moriarty backed himself out of the apartment, smiling at me all the way. He winked at me before descending down the stairs.

A happy whistle flew up to my ears. It nearly made me cry.

I stumbled backwards, leaning against the windowsill. My head touched the cool window. My heart was galloping in my chest. I had been dancing with a murderer, a person who could have killed me right here and left a body for Sherlock and John to find when they came back to 221B. Sherlock probably would have enjoyed solving another case, but I wondered if it would be different if he knew the body was mine.

I shook my head. I was freaking myself out, thinking such a thing. It didn't happen. Sherlock was never going to investigate my murder, because I wasn't going to die in London.

My legs wobbled underneath me. I tried taking deep breaths. I looked at the table where the laptop was closed and shut off. Nearby it was my phone. I stared at it before looking out the apartment's entrance. What would have happened if Moriarty stopped by and nobody was present?

I really didn't want to dwell on that too much.

I wanted to get out of 221B, go someplace public where I knew I wouldn't have Moriarty appearing to me without causing chaos. With the quick decision, I grabbed my phone and some money, hustling down the stairs as though they were on fire.

Cool London air welcomed me. I looked everywhere to make sure Moriarty wasn't watching me from afar. He was quick to vanish into thin air, like a ghost. Like he had never visited just moments ago.

I pulled a taxi over.

"Where to, miss?" the driver asked.

"Do you know any good places to eat?" I asked as I got settled in. "Take me any place; I need to get away for a while."

The driver chuckled. "Been cooped up for too long, have you?"

I stared back at the door, the 221B staring back at me. "Something like that."

**le chills

You know, the more I read and re-read, and just look at Rariarty as a whole...it's very complex, and puzzling. More so on Moriarty's end, not Rachel's. It really makes you wonder.**