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James Moriarty. Now there was a man, if you ever met one.
It hadn’t taken long to convince Mycroft to let you have five minutes alone with Moriarty. It’s one of your big brothers flaws – his need to protect Queen and country.
James Moriarty - Jim as he tells you to call him – is a fascinating person. Extremely expressive with his facial features. The way he is able to make silly faces and somehow keep his thoughts from you and those around him is remarkable; frankly you’re impressed. That’s saying a lot. Eurus Holmes does not get impressed.
When he finds out who you are – that you’re a Holmes. His face lights up like a fuckin’ Christmas tree and you smirk identical smirks.
Mycroft was foolish in letting this meeting happen. But he won’t be aware of that fact for a good few years to come. Payback is a bitch, and Mycroft Holmes deserves everything that comes his way. Everything that he has done to you – making you age and waste away in this prison, away from other children, other people, you did nothing to deserve this. He has punished you for being yourself. For crying out loud, you were a child when they took you away – to Sherrinford.
I’m getting off subject. Back to Jim.
His eyes spark, and seemingly light on fire in his joy. It’s invigorating. You wonder what it would be like to set Jim Moriarty on fire. Would he die, or rise from the ashes like a phoenix? Maybe together you could light up Sherrinford and watch it spark and flame to the ground, until there’s not even a shell left of the hellish place you’ve lived and passed time in. You’ll admit, the idea is appealing, Jim would want to free the rest of the other prisoners – maybe hire them – he has a wicked fascination with the cannibals holed up here. You’d indulge him you like to think. The pair of you would be inseparable and more importantly – unstoppable.
Wishful thinking, but pleasant nonetheless.
Five minutes isn’t much for a normal person to set about long and complex plans. You aren’t normal though – there’s nothing normal about you and your life. Jim Moriarty isn’t normal either. It’s one of the reasons you chose him for this; the pair of you are positively abnormal, it’s good because no one is going to be able to figure out your plans. The goldfish are going to flounder around when it happens. You take into account the fact that it’s likely that Jim won’t be there with you when your plan is set in motion – after all he’s a criminal mastermind with his own plans. It’s wishful thinking. He won’t be there. But hell if that isn’t a magnificent image that’s likely to stay engraved in your mind for the years to come.
“You’re a strange one, Eurus.” Jim says pointedly. Literally pointedly – he flicks a finger in your direction, waggling it as he gives you another once over. That’s the seventh time he’s looked at you like that in the last minute. It’s bemusing. You wonder what you and Jim would be like together, he’s not even bothering in the slightest to hide his interest towards you.
“Normal is boring Mr Moriarty” You retort.
“Yes it is.” His face contorts into a crazed smile, biting into a juicy red apple. You’re not exactly sure where he got the apple from; your curiosity only multiplies grows. Maybe you do have a match in this world. No one has ever been able to do that to you before – sneak something into your cell. It only garners more respect toward the man.
You’ve concluded that like you, Jim Moriarty is an anomaly in the world. You’re having the most fun you have ever had – well apart from the satisfaction you felt when drowning poor little Victor. Now you have a crazed smile on your face. It just prompts Jim to smile wider. Those smiles have secrets.
It only takes three minutes in total for you to plot and record the videos – efficient and handsome you think. When you’re done, the pair of you sit with your backs to the wall of your cell. Jim’s suit is going to wrinkle, but he doesn’t seem to care. He’s bouncing a ball in one hand – again how he got that in here you have no idea – and has the other hand buried in your hair. His fingers twist and intertwine within the locks of your black tresses, caressing and pulling. It’s weird but you allow it. You don’t get any physical contact – and it’s nice, you close your eyes and picture sitting under an oak tree, the summer breeze hitting your body, as you relax and hug James Moriarty. A reminiscence of your lost childhood. Mother used to sit with you and play with your hair, and while you didn’t have too many mother-daughter moments together, you can blame two older brothers for that, you remember being almost relaxed for a brief moment within the storm which was and is your thoughts. James Moriarty isn’t your mother, but the intimacy and normalcy of the moment isn’t lost on you. In three minutes of knowing each other you and Jim had seemingly become as close as mother and child – a bond which is developed over months and then years. Not that you know much about physical contact and the structures of relationships, as you said before, you don’t get much in the ways of relationships at Sherrinford – especially with the type of contact minimisation the Governor and your brother put you and your guards under.
From the corner of your eye you observe Jim a bit more; you can never observe anyone too much, trying not to come off stalker-ish – safety first and all that nonsense.
One minute thirty seconds left.
“What is it that you’re planning to do to my brother?” You say, turning gently, so not to jog Jim’s grip on your hair.
He pauses, glancing up at the security cameras scattered inside your cell. They’re turned off, but the threat of his secrecy being revealed is enough to shake fear into the greatest predators.
“A fall. I owe him a fall” Jim says under his breath. He tugs his hand untangling from your now slightly knotted hair.
“St Barts” You quickly throw back, sitting up straight and looking at him; head cocked to the side in thought.
“I forgot how smart you are”
“It’s been four minutes” A smile creeps onto your face.
“How time flies” Is drawled back, with a knowing look.
You have your hands curved around his neck. Squeezing. Feeling the life drain from the body, he goes even paler if that is possible. You feel powerful. Hands drop back to your sides, and then he’s on you, fisting your hair again and sending you crashing to the floor. You’ll have bruises later but it’s okay. You’re okay, better than before; better than you’ve ever felt.
His mouth crashes onto your own; teeth scraping against yours and tongue powerful and dominant fighting you in a game of cat and mouse.
Then the feeling is gone. He pulls away and glances down at you, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips.
“It’s been a pleasure, dearest Eurus”
He leaves. The east wind blows.