Treading Water

Whatever else may be said of the man, Jim Moriarty will always be someone to be feared for one reason: he is mad, plain and simple. His obsession with Sherlock is dangerous, putting the lives of anyone who associates with him at risk. I've made my choice already, but this time Irene Adler was with me for Moriarty's lethal games. I can't believe I was so stupid - getting into an unknown car - but it was the method by which Mycroft had first contacted me and, in my naiveté, I assumed it was him once again. Not so.

Irene was with me as we exited the old hotel where the third murder had taken place. I am not so cold as Sherlock nor so emotionally disciplined as Irene, and the sight of Emma Saunders' body having been burned alive made me sick to my stomach. The thought of anyone doing that to someone...or more to the point, the knowledge that it was done, and having seen it before. The war will never release me, and while I enjoy the battleground I walk with Sherlock I will never enjoy seeing the innocent suffer. As a result, I had stopped off in a bathroom for some water to revive myself, and exited to find Irene waiting and Sherlock already gone as usual. The nearby phone box started ringing as we exited, then the next as we walked down the street. Having as I said previously encountered this modus operandi when first meeting Mycroft, I got into the car that pulled up next to us without a second thought. As soon as we were inside, however, we were gassed into unconsciousness.

We woke tied together beside a pool, with Jim Moriarty standing over us. After some words were exchanged we were forced into the pool, a weight pulling us down with only the strength of our combined efforts at treading water keeping us from drowning. But, as usual, it had very little to do with us - Moriarty called Sherlock, offering him a choice: one of us he would shoot, and the other would drown with the dead weight. And Sherlock had to choose which one would receive which death.

Irene and I both tried to work out where we were, and I tried to tell Sherlock via Moriarty's phone call, but the penalty for my efforts was harsh: Irene was shot through the shoulder by Moriarty's sniper. It was a warning, Moriarty could just as easily take the decision from Sherlock, he was only playing a game and if we changed the rules - well, so could he. I stayed quiet from that point, hoping Sherlock managed to delay Moriarty long enough to work out where we were and get help. Hoping it would be in time to stop Irene from bleeding out in the fetid water.

My hope was not in vain. Sherlock appeared, although without Lestrade or any form of backup it seemed. There followed a short and reckless confrontation, which ended with Sherlock's right arm winged by a bullet but Moriarty withdrawn. Lestrade arrived shortly thereafter with his usual retinue of flashing lights, and Irene was rushed to hospital. I eventually managed to persuade Sherlock to also have his arm seen to at the hospital, and although the worst I had was a slight dizziness and some water inhalation I accompanied them both.

I remain unsure as to Moriarty's purpose in all this. Is he really so jealous of Sherlock's attention as he implied, or did he just want to prove that he could? Regardless I shall have to be more on guard now. And look after Sherlock...bloody hell. He's going to be a most difficult patient. I might even have to tie him down to get him to rest his arm properly.

As bored as he might get, I hope there are no cases for the next while. Sherlock needs the rest, so I shall have to make sure he gets it. Perhaps I can even recruit Mrs Hudson...