Fleeting Impressions | J.M.

21: escape with john

I've been hiding the iPod all day, shoving it into the same pocket as my mobile, so it looks like the head phones are connected to my cell. Thankfully, Sherlock has been in and out all day to not pay much attention to me. And despite John working with my brother at all hours, he's still not Holmes enough to pick up on something as small as this. Thankfully.

Playlist after playlist I listen to Rossini, Chopin, Queen, and other artists and composers that oddly remind me of our time together. The melodies flow into one after the other, despite the genre, and I understand that this must be a copy of Moriarty's own iPod. The time it must have taken to create the playlists based on his mood.

I also know this, as they are all labeled. World Domination, City Waltz, Jail Break, and After Death are but a few of the playlists on his device. I wonder what events must have been correlated with each one. What was he doing while listening to each song? I wonder this as I wonder the flat, sipping tea and eating toast.

The last song that plays "Killer Queen" by Queen of course and I roll my eyes. 5 hours and 43 minutes later and I finally finish all the playlists. It was entertaining for sure, I have a few songs to add to my own playlists now. But I still don't understand, why would Moriarty give me this iPod? I understand the crown and references to Queen. Obviously, even the goldfish would understand that.

But is this just another taunt? Show up in Sherlocks bedroom of all places to get under my skin? He showed me that he still has the upper hand. That I still care a fair amount more than I wanted to admit.

Why does he have to rub it in my face?

The doorbell rings. Not expecting any visitors, I stalk close to the wall before listening at the door. The knock rings out again before I'm able to place it.

Dainty wrists, slightly to the right, nervously rapid tapping? Molly.

I open the door. And there she stands, white lab coat like usual. She just got off of work and by the anxious look all over her face, I am assuming she has news for me.

"I have something to tell you," Molly stuffers out, looking behind her like she knows she is doing something wrong.

I sign, zero patience, "yes Molly, out with it." I gesture for her to speak.

"I'm not supposed to tell you, in fact I've been given specific orders. But then you know, you told me to tell you-"

"Yes Molly, what is it?"  I stress to her. I've dragged her into the room at this point. Hoping that this will give her the confidence to tell me without being in the opening of the door, but she still won't spit it out.

"Moriarty has turned himself in," Molly whispers in a broken voice. She is scared of the outcome. And scared of what I am going to say.

I have to think.

"Goodbye Molly," I dismiss. Turning around to sit in my brothers high back chair.

She grumbles something about annoying Holmes' and walks out the door with a little defiant slam. My mind, racing too quickly with thoughts to care that much.

He promised that we wouldn't get caught? I got caught, and he took the fall? Why did he take the fall? He could easily pin this all on me, make a jury convict me of something I did. But he didn't. He put himself in my place. Why?

I know he's not doing it for me. Moriarty never does anything for himself. But he does do things for the sake of playing a game.

What game are you playing now Moriarty?

I got up from my seat and pace the floor, wearing down the same spot Sherlock did before. But it's a natural pacing path, so I keep going.

I have to find my way out of this small flat. I have to find clues, talk to Moriarty, try to find a way to get a step ahead of him.

I will not allow him to make a fool of me again. And I won't let him get under my skin for another time. I have to work him out of my head. Let the games begin, Mr. Irish man.

Sherlock walks in the flat just in time, John trailing behind like a puppy. Gosh won't they just kiss already? I ignore my thoughts for now. Like Sherlock would ever go for sentiment, anyway.

"Sherlock," I stand, ready to question him.

"Not now"

"You will tell what is going on with this case, I'm going crazy in here," I state. He doesn't need to know that Molly told me enough information to make me go crazy. He wouldn't allow me to see her anymore.

He dismisses me with a wave of his hand and a flick of his curls. He sits down with case files in his hands and turns on the news.

Pictures of Moriarty in cuffs show on the screen. I walk behind Sherlock when he opens the files to scan the documents inside, not sure how they will help me yet.

"John," Sherlock calls his flat mate from the kitchen, where John emerges at his call, "go get the samples from Molly at the lab."

This is my chance. While my brother mumbles over the files and then sinks into his mind castle, I grab sherlocks long coat from the door and sneak out after John, right before he closes the door.

Technically, I'm not breaking any rules. Because I am only going out with John, he just doesn't know it yet. And I'm wearing Sherlock's coat, so it's practically like he's here anyway, breathing down my neck with his annoying face.

I swear I'm moving back to my small town after all this is over. I've had enough of the Holmes brothers for a lifetime.