This past month I've been obsessed with reading I've read about twenty 100,000 word fanfics (or more words) on Criminal Minds- I've read 'Pet Sematary', 'Carrie', 'The Shining', 'Deliver Us From Evil', and 'Dexter's Final Cut'. I've read A LOT basically- and when I got bored of reading, I began to continue this chapter, which I had already written about 1,300 words of- so my writing might be a bit different at some point in the chapter because I've been influenced by all these different authors (don't be surprised if I suddenly start sounding like Stephen King).

Anyways ,now that my rant is done, go on and read. Sorry again, for the wait. It's getting hard to keep myself writing, but it will pick up.

The two men who picked me up are standing by my side silently, "Are you going to bring me anywhere else? What am I supposed to do now?" They start to turn away from me. And then they begin to go back to the door that I entered the room from "Hey!" I turn around to face their backs, "Where are you going?" They don't listen to me and instead open the door and leave. I turn back towards the foyer and staircase "...What am I supposed to do now..." I assume that Moriarty would be coming soon, but this place looks really empty. They didn't tell me to say in this spot either. I look up and around me to see if there are any sort of cameras to spot, I see little black dots in certain places. They seem unassuming enough but I do think they're cameras.

"Are you watching me?" I ask out loud. There's no response. I turn to my right and start walking. I start going down the long hallway and my shoes sound off against the dark wood floors. There's no decoration, and I find it kind of surprising, in a place like this I would have expected some. There are certain door in certain places, but I don't dare to open them. I make it to a living room there are leather couches surrounding a tile fireplace, and I realize that although the house has an old feel to it, it's also surprisingly modern. My hand rushes over the leather couch and I sit down.

"Where are you?" I absently pull at my hair and tap my foot. The feeling of being watched cripples up behind my back and I'm unsettled. I turn over my backpack, that I realize is still there and grip it tight.

Then a voice startles me, "Jim Moriarty... Hi." It comes from behind me and I turn around to find Moriarty, Westwood and all, staring at me.

"I bet you use that line on all the girls." I comment. Finding humor in a terrifying situation is my shield. "So what do we do now?" I stand up and face him.

"Hmmm... Well it's rather late. And I'm staaarrvviinggg." I don't like how casual he's acting. He's making voices and smiling like a maniac, but he's still acting oddly normal. I'm about to speak before, as if on cue, my stomach growls. I realize I haven't actually eaten anything all day. Moriarty laughs, "OH! I suppose you're hungry too!" He makes a manic hand gesture and ambles toward me, I step back, "There's a WONDERFUL Italian restaurant near here."

I take a deep breath. "Fine. I eat, and I sleep. And then I'm helping you."

He raises his eyebrows, "No no no no noooo, we eat, we sleep. And then we help each other." He puts his hand on my shoulder and my back arches.

I push his hand off and step back again, "No. No don't touch me. In all of this- do not touch me. We can have dinner, we can even sleep in the same room and have a little sleepover like you think this is. Fuckin popcorn and movies- I don't care. But you do NOT touch me." I look up at him and give a firm stare.

He puts his hands back in faux submission, "Oh yes. Of course, of course." He then twists around with his back towards me and gestures back to the hallway, "I have a car waiting in front... Let's go." He begins to walk back down the hallway and I follow.

"What's the point of the blindfold if you'll drive me somewhere else anyway."

"Oh they blindfolded you?" Jim puts both his hands on the sides of the hallway walls and drags them across the wallpaper. I suddenly realize how narrow this hallway is. "Those pets of mine, they just love intimidating people. Were you intimidated?"

No I wasn't. Not of them anyway. "No."

A high pitched laugh escapes Moriarty and I startle. "You really are interesting, aren't you? I'll have lots of fun with you."

We finally make it to the front door and a black car, that looks nearly exactly like the same one I was riding before. I get in the back seat and Moriarty does the same. This vile creature is sitting right beside me and I have to hold back a cringe. I look to the front part of the car and notice a dark sheet covering the front so I can't see the driver. The care begins to move and Moriarty is sitting with his leg crossed one over the other. He looks at me.

"Let's talk." He says, "How much do you know?"

"A lot. I know your plan, I know ways to improve it."

"Improve? I was under the impression it was already perfect."

I shake my head, "You're changeable remember." I say it as if it's obvious and I expect Moriarty to make a face, but he's not phased. "You can alter some things."

"Really." He turns away from me and picks at his nails.

"Yes. So if I'm correct, this little game section you're doing for Sherlock. Janus Cars, right?"

Moriarty raises his eyebrows, "I would really like to know your sources Dr. Holmes."

"I'm not a Holmes." Why not tell him. I'm sure he knows already, and the way he says the name is so mocking.

"Oh, really? I never would have guessed." What a sarcastic motherfucker, "What is your name Doctor? Or are you even a Doctor?"

I pick at my nails, and think whether I should give him my real name. Then I realize, I have no family in this world. There's no one he can hurt. "My name is Dr. Elise Juliana Camargo. Yes, I really am a doctor. I passed medical school, and I have my degree."

He nods. And then the car comes to a stop. I suppose it's time for a date with Jim Moriarty. The night passes by quickly, I eat and ignore him. He eats and ignores me. I find myself back to the home late and I go to sleep. And I'm very surprised to find, that even though I've been terrified the whole night... it's actually a very deep sleep and very comfortable. It only took a few minutes.

"We need to find her." Sherlock says while pacing, "There's no relevant leads, after she left the shopping centre the car goes off the grid. No video footage, nothing. There's no record of the men being in the system, there's no record of Elise being in the system. None of it fits! And how could she have contacted them anyway? Previous knowledge of the situation? Did she work for them? Related to the bomber? We have absolutely no information."

"That's exactly my point." Lestrade comments from his desk, "We have no information, we just need to wait. You need to sleep, I need to sleep, John needs to sleep. Everyone needs to take a break so they can focus tomorrow."

John is in the corner of the room, he's sitting silently, his leg rapidly bouncing. "Lestrade's right." He comments suddenly. "As much as I hate to say it, the best thing we can do right now is recharge ourselves. We get sleep and wait for the bomber's next puzzle." He spits the last word out with malice on the tip of his tongue.

Sherlock grips his hair and lets out a growl, "I can't accept that!" He yells, "I can't ACCEPT doing absolutely nothing for her. She was my responsibility." He points to his chest, "I was supposed to be watching her. I was supposed to be keeping an eye on her and she left." He looks desperate and John sighs. He's never seen his friend in this state before.

He grips the bridge of his nose and leans forward in the chair, "It was our responsibility. Not just yours." He says lightly, "Though she's very smart, and I think even if we did all we could this would have happened anyway." He takes his hand off his nose and rests it on his bouncing leg, "We need to sleep." The bouncing stops.

Silence.

Waking up was a fight. Falling asleep was often easy, entering the pool was easier then emerging. Even without bad dreams, while I woke up I gasped for breath and it felt like I had been submerged in a murky fluid. A thick feeling settles in the back of my throat and I realize where I am.

Moriarty.

"God, what the fuck did I do?" I mutter to myself silently. "You're so fucking dumb, Elise." I let my hands come up to my face and sit up in the bed I was given. Moriarty had been oddly kind when he led me to my 'room' last night. It was all thickly laced with a sense of danger, but he had been subtle. He asked whether I needed anything, and offered me water, and said to call whenever I felt uncomfortable. Thinking about it makes my stomach turn. Had I actually began to like Moriarty? He was just trying to get into my head, he was trying to give me a false sense of security. Getting a goodnight sleep here, was like getting a goodnight sleep with a snake ready to slash at your neck.

I take a deep breath and glance down at my clothing. I didn't much care for changing, I was still in the same clothes from yesterday. I stand up and I don't bother to look at any mirrors- or make myself seem 'presentable'. Why does it matter? I might die soon, and I don't need to look good. My feet pad silently on the wood, and I put on my sneakers and throw on my backpack.

Making my way to the bedroom door, I open it and take a deep breath. What time is it? I wonder. I should have gotten a watch...I have a phone. Does the phone tell time? I reach to the front pocket of my bag and pull out the little disposable phone I bought. It's a good time. Around nine. I head off and take a simple route, left, right, left, and suddenly I'm back to a tile fireplace.

"Did you have a good night sleep?" I hear the voice perk up from behind me. It seemed like Moriarty had a habit of doing that.

I turn around, "Yes." It wasn't a lie. "Who have you chosen for the next victim? Have you made the call yet?" I don't bother to sit down on the couch, why let myself relax like that?

"A young man, he's all strapped and ready at a very public place."

"You didn't answer my second question."

"No, I haven't. The Greenwich pips are scheduled to go off very soon though, a picture shows, and then I'm off to have the man call Scotland Yard." His voice is calm, "Would you like to join me? I'll be typing out my replies to Sherlock and listening in on the conversation." I nod. He smirks and doesn't say anything. Instead he begins to walk down another hallway, separate from the one we went down before. He walks slowly, and I follow. He makes his way to a dark wooden door, and opens it.

Screens adorn the room.

Each screen is playing something, they all look like they are from CCTV. There's one of the man currently standing with a bomb, one of Sherlock talking to Lestrade and John at Scotland Yard. There are many of the house itself, my theory about the black dots being cameras was correct. It seems like there's one everywhere... Even in the room I slept in. I hold back a cringe and see Moriarty sit down at a computer. I drag a lone chair and sit down. He readies himself from the computer, clicks a few keys, and suddenly all the screens are on Scotland Yard. And I see Lestrade and John rush to where Sherlock is holding the pink phone.

"So the pips have gone off." I comment silently.

Moriarty doesn't say anything, instead he taps a button and suddenly audio begins to crackle to life. It's just white noise. I see Moriarty begin to type something out it's instructions to call a number, the Scotland Yard one probably. Then says to ask for Sherlock Holmes.

"H-Hello. Can I speak to Sherlock Holmes, please?"

The atmosphere on the screen changes, I see Donovan rush into the room with a phone and say something.

"Hello?" It's Sherlock voice and it's odd to see it in time with the screen. It's slightly off, and only a few seconds after I hear the hello I see Sherlock mouth the word on the screen.

"Connectivity problems." Moriarty comments as he types something out the screen. I nod lightly.

The conversation goes on as I remembered. All of the information Moriarty wanted to relay was said- when Moriarty types about Carl Powers it's aggressive and angry. I nearly feel bad for him, bullied?, I think fleetingly, but I ignore it. Moriarty tell him his time limit and I thought that he would hang up until Sherlock suddenly asked a question.

"How's Elise?"

His voice is calm and level, but looking at the CCTV camera I notice his eyes just slightly looking around. There's definitely a bit of nervousness.

Moriarty pauses at the computer, his fingers hovering over the keypad. He looks at me, "Would you like to answer?"

I don't know what kind of game he's playing, but I nod quickly and go over to the keyboard. Moriarty moves out of the way and I quickly type out my reply. It doesn't take long before the other man on the line says it. I feel awfully bad for making this man my voice, but it's not as if I have any other choice.

"She's fine. Don't worry about her, she'll be okay. Just focus on the case."

It looks like Sherlock is about to answer before Moriarty leans over and types something. The line ends. I look at the CCTV screen and Sherlock is looking at the phone with a furrowed brow. Lestrade says something and rushes over to him.

"There was nothing important, I keep telling you that." Sherlock was getting irritated, John had been plaguing him with question after question.

"Come on, Sherlock. Are you telling me you didn't ask about Elise?" They were in a cab heading off to the location of the picture they received.

"I asked. I was given a very general answer saying not to worry and she'll be okay. It was very strange." Sherlock steeples his fingers under his chin and hums.

"Strange?" John asks.

"Yes. It's strange because it's out of character for the bomber. Everything was centered primarily around him, him, him, and the only reason he would talk about Elise would be to try and intimidate me. The words on the phone sounded comforting, however." He closes his eyes and takes a long breath, "I think that he let Elise make the answer on her own accord."

"So she really is okay?" John's eyes widen and he seems hopeful, his shoulders relax.

"Not necessarily." Sherlock comments passingly, "We can't exactly trust Elise when it comes to her well being. She has stitches that need removing, we don't know where she is, she's put herself in danger more then once." He voice was slowly getting faster, "This girl has no self-preservation!" He groans and his fingers tense. "She's not dead, at least."

John tenses again, any kind of comfort was stripped from his physical appearance. "Yeah." He says, "Though she's also smart. You've mentioned before, even if she doesn't have preservation for herself she'll do anything to keep the general public safe. How can she do that if she's injured?"

Sherlock nods, "We should be monitoring medical personnel. Hospitals, clinics. They should be on the lookout for Elise."

"I need to get these removed soon." I feel my stitches on the back of my back and rub, "These stitches are definitely ready to be taken out."

"I'll get someone to do it soon." Moriarty waves his hand in the air and sighs. "God. Teenagers are such a drag. Such complainers."

"Says the whiniest person in the world." I furrow my brows. "You're always one to complain."

"Because you know all about me of course."

"Well I know you're plan, and I know what you want to do so that's a start." I didn't mind talking to Moriarty like this. He scared me sure, but I felt like standing up to him. I take a breath and sigh, "Just bring me to a real doctor."

"But real doctors are boring."

"I CAN'T REMOVE THE STITCHES MYSELF."

The alert of medical personnel on Moriarty and Elise was set off an hour later.

Sorry for such the long wait and the abrupt ending. God this story is hard to write. I just really wanted to get this chapter out there. It will be more interesting next chappy.

I'm not super interested in Sherlock fan fiction anymore, so I'll have to get to reading some and watching the episodes over again so I get in the mood.

Review. Tell me what you think. Also give me some suggestions as to how to go on with this- because I kind of know but I have a bit of writers block.

Thanks.

~Moriarty-Mastermind