“Hmmmm.” Sherlock’s throat hummed, his face torn between a smile and a frown. He plucked the phone from John’s hand and plopped to the ground beside his chair. His head was pressed back against the armrest, unruly curls reaching out to rest against John’s jumper.
What makes you think I would ever let him go alone. -SH
Sherlock closed his eyes, and began to hum some unknown melody, waiting.
A twinge of nervousness settled in John’s stomach. He could handle Moriarty with Sherlock, but to go alone? He had to go alone. Moriarty would definitely know if he was followed in any way. His thoughts were cut off by the feeling of Sherlock’s hair on his jumper. His heart skipped a beat, but any further thought was again cut off by a buzz.
It’s time to let the bird fly away from the nest, dear. If I find you tonight, he dies. -JM
A hiss issued from Sherlock’s tightly stretched lips. An internal struggle was ripping him apart. Should he let John go alone? Could he? There were a thousand possibilities racing through Sherlock’s mind. Hundreds of outcomes, hundreds of mistakes, they all played out instantly in his brain. But this was James Moriarty! Surely there was something dangerous and devious he was up to. Something that would be of interest to him…
He made a small, frustrated noise. “I’ll make tea.” his deep voice grumbled. Sherlock bolted up, tossing the phone carelessly to the floor, battery removed slyly and safely slipped into his breast pocket.
John went to get his now useless phone. “Sherlock, give me the battery.” He was met with silence. His mind wandered back to the situation with Moriarty. Surely he would have to go alone. He had to go in the first place; denying James Moriarty could not be a very bright idea. The thought of Sherlock not being able to be by his side made him nervous. Military experience made him brave, but he has never faced an enemy like this.
He walked over to Sherlock, who seemed lost in thought, gazing and the boiling water. “What do we do, then?”
