→ hey, brother
The morning after Jim and Violet had decided that the best option for them would be to drop off the radar before Mycroft discovered them is hectic. Jim has business to attend to - loose ends to tie up; Violet, as ever, doesn't ask him about his work and returns to Cambridge to strip down her flat. She's grateful that she had already started to pack in preparation for her move to Moriarty's Soho loft as it makes hurriedly packing up the remainder of her things vastly easier. Everything that she doesn't need for the trip is going to be sent ahead to the loft and what she has decided to take with her fits, neatly, into her luggage set.
By the time Mycroft knows what has transpired, she and Moriarty will be well on their way to New York. Their flightplan has already been drafted, and now it's only a matter of biding time until Jim has settled things in London and they drop off the radar to await the passing of the storm. Violet is both terribly excited and nervous. This is not some quiet act of defiance, like sneaking cigarettes as a teenager or climbing out of her window past her curfew.
Leaving with Moriarty is a bold and booming statement.
A part of her wants to simply leave without a word and contact her brothers from a burner phone once she has landed to let them know that she is alive before she disappears from the radar almost entirely, only able to be tracked by those who know what to look for in a crime designed by Jim Moriarty. A pang of guilt keeps her from doing so, though.
Sherlock, at the very least, deserves a proper goodbye.
The cab idles in front of the Baker Street flat and Violet considers ringing the bell before she remembers that Sherlock has probably not remembered to reconnect it. She lets herself in.
By the time Mycroft knows what has transpired, she and Moriarty will be well on their way to New York. Their flightplan has already been drafted, and now it's only a matter of biding time until Jim has settled things in London and they drop off the radar to await the passing of the storm. Violet is both terribly excited and nervous. This is not some quiet act of defiance, like sneaking cigarettes as a teenager or climbing out of her window past her curfew.
Leaving with Moriarty is a bold and booming statement.
A part of her wants to simply leave without a word and contact her brothers from a burner phone once she has landed to let them know that she is alive before she disappears from the radar almost entirely, only able to be tracked by those who know what to look for in a crime designed by Jim Moriarty. A pang of guilt keeps her from doing so, though.
Sherlock, at the very least, deserves a proper goodbye.
The cab idles in front of the Baker Street flat and Violet considers ringing the bell before she remembers that Sherlock has probably not remembered to reconnect it. She lets herself in.