S. Holmes 2.5 - What is Moriarty up to?

Author's Note: The Moriarty side stories do contain small spoilers for the cannon story and for S. Holmes #4. Read at your own delightfully suspenseful risk.



‘I’m too old for this shit.’

He stood in front of a child, one hand held onto his firearm and his other hand clutched the bullet wound in his side – a bullet that was intended for the blue eyed brunette girl he shielded. He had to hand it to the kid; at that age he would have bawled his eyes out from fear. Instead, the brunette stood behind him mutely. A tiny hand clutched the fabric of his suit but that was all she did. She didn’t shake, she didn’t cry, and she didn’t run. She stood deathly still and glared in the direction the bullet came from.

He wanted to chuckle. ‘Just like her mum.’ In his ear he heard a second pop that came from the other end of the line.

“We got him, boss.” He heard through his headset.

“I’m taking the girl home.” He answered.

“But-”

“Take care of it.” He said then tore the headset from his ear. The motion tugged at his injured side and he flinched.

The child’s head cocked to the side. “Do you need a doctor?” She asked.

“I’ve had worse, kid.” Moriarty said and ruffled her hair. “C’mon, lets get you home.”

Eyes filled with distrust and her tiny frame sat down. “I’m not supposed to go with strangers.” Aoife said with an unshaking tone.

Moriarty took a moment to curse at Sherlock before squatting down to be eye to eye with the child. “Ask me the question.” He ordered and when the child squinted at him he sighed. “Stranger danger precautions your mum has in place is you ask me a question and if I fail to answer or give the wrong answer then I’m a kidnapper. So, ask me the question, Ms. Aoife Holmes.”

Blue-flecked eyes glared as she spoke. “What is the passcode?”

“Prague,” Moriarty answered.

Her eyes narrowed further. “Where was I born?”

“Nowhere, your mum was on a ship.” Moriarty answered, remembering the day clearly.

“Who are you?” Aoife blurted out in frustration. The stranger had answered both questions correctly, so it meant it was someone important.

“James Moriarty, love,” Moriarty answered. “Old friend of your mum’s. I’m here to make sure you and your keeper are kept safe before your mum gets here.”

Timid eyes looked at the blooming red on his dress shirt. “Are you what mum calls a friendly?” She asked.

That he nearly laughed at, but Moriarty nodded confirmation before pointing to his chest. “I’m Uncle Yankic’s boss.” He said and her eyes grew wide. He zipped his lips and Aoife followed suit. He then held out a pinky. “Promise not to tell anyone?”

A tiny finger looped with his. “Yes, sir.”

“Good,” he said and ruffled her hair. With a groan, he got up. “Now, let’s get you home safely before I go take care of the bad guys.”

Aoife looked at his wound once more then took his hand. A beaming smile crossed her lips as they walked to the corner the safe house was on.

Before he knew what hit him, the tiny body hugged him.

“Promise to keep mum safe?” She asked.

“Mob boss’s honor, kid.” Moriarty replied then watched as she ran home. Later, in his car, he’d laugh at the memory of a mini Sherlock in a blood smeared yellow sundress.