I. [location: the mansion] No one can doubt what we know you can do. You're more evil than even you.
As the gun turned towards the vest, Moriarty stared at Sherlock in an attempt to assess his intentions. If Moriarty had to put money on it, he would say that Sherlock didn't have it in him to pull that trigger, to have a death on his own hands rather than just on his conscience, but as he tipped his eyes up to meet Sherlock's, there was a question in his mind over whether he was assessing him wrong. Was he willing to risk his own life on his ability to understand Sherlock's thought processes? After all, money was nothing to him, but this was definitely far more than he'd bargained for.
A half smirk, half sneer twisted his features, and just as Moriarty was about to signal to his gunman (Singular. Laser pointers were so handy when it came to making people think you had more than one.), the scenery changed almost instantly around him. The pool faded, and the two offending individuals disappeared with it, leaving him alone in an immaculately decorated lobby. The internal rage building in him at being removed from the situation conflicted with the relief at not having to admit defeat and the intrigue he felt at being some place new by some means unknown.
"Come now, my dear. This is hardly playing fair," Jim called as he pivoted on one leg, turning himself around the room as he voice dipped into a sing-song. "Olly olly oxen free! You're nowhere that I can see!"
This was more than Sherlock could have ever managed on his own, Jim was sure of that as he turned again, scowling briefly at his surroundings before reaching down to adjust the lay of his suit, brushing off the tales before he turned to head towards the door.
"Excuse me. Mr. Moriarty," A voice called behind him, feminine and likely belong to the figure that sitting behind the desk that he'd dismissed at scenery dressing. "You might want to collect your room key before exploring."
Room key? He had absolutely no intention of staying, but as he turned back to face the woman, a niggling in the back of his mind told him that it would be simpler to just get the damn thing rather than arguing. Stalking back across the floor, Jim snatched the key from her outstretched hand, barely maintaining a thin veneer of civility, before pocketing the item and setting back to what he'd intended to do in the first place: locate a way out, or better yet, locate Sherlock Holmes.
A half smirk, half sneer twisted his features, and just as Moriarty was about to signal to his gunman (Singular. Laser pointers were so handy when it came to making people think you had more than one.), the scenery changed almost instantly around him. The pool faded, and the two offending individuals disappeared with it, leaving him alone in an immaculately decorated lobby. The internal rage building in him at being removed from the situation conflicted with the relief at not having to admit defeat and the intrigue he felt at being some place new by some means unknown.
"Come now, my dear. This is hardly playing fair," Jim called as he pivoted on one leg, turning himself around the room as he voice dipped into a sing-song. "Olly olly oxen free! You're nowhere that I can see!"
This was more than Sherlock could have ever managed on his own, Jim was sure of that as he turned again, scowling briefly at his surroundings before reaching down to adjust the lay of his suit, brushing off the tales before he turned to head towards the door.
"Excuse me. Mr. Moriarty," A voice called behind him, feminine and likely belong to the figure that sitting behind the desk that he'd dismissed at scenery dressing. "You might want to collect your room key before exploring."
Room key? He had absolutely no intention of staying, but as he turned back to face the woman, a niggling in the back of his mind told him that it would be simpler to just get the damn thing rather than arguing. Stalking back across the floor, Jim snatched the key from her outstretched hand, barely maintaining a thin veneer of civility, before pocketing the item and setting back to what he'd intended to do in the first place: locate a way out, or better yet, locate Sherlock Holmes.