< Where there's smoke... >

[precisionfocus]

Sebastian Moran waited.

The faint glow emanating from under one door of the penthouse meant James was at work. Only with express permission or under special circumstances did he enter that room. Even so, he had it memorised.

Three computer monitors-- one at either end and one in the center above another-- showed every move of every room of the penthouse. The monitors one inside ran the news constantly-- one UK, one international. The next inside monitor on the right displayed information on at least forty bank accounts, all of which belonged to the mastermind. On the other side, a constantly updated contact, status, and date tracker ran. The low center screen was used for communicating with clients and arranging immediate plans.

He knew his presence would draw the attention of James Moriarty. Usually, the other man paid him little mind until he got hungry. This time, though, Sebastian had papers spread out over the dining table.
His entire military and psychiatric history. It had been left in his car-- a new car with a keyless entry code-- on the driver's side. Someone was looking into him and telling him about it.

A threat.

Comments

[precisionfocus]

Sebastian looked over when James emerged. He debated between being annoyed and relieved. While it was frustrating to see James take pleasure in someone dragging up all his files, it eased some of his worry to see him animated about something. Besides, he'd rather have James gleefully looking into it than ignore it, as he had feared he might.

When James disappeared again, Sebastian rose. He followed. His eyes scanned the computer screens briefly, but only a cursory glance was needed. This was James's world; he became involved only when James asked for him to take part.

"Genuinely sloppy?" he asked. "Or is someone making it look sloppy?"

James had played that game before. He'd left a trail to the specific answer he wanted someone to find. And only Sherlock Holmes had ever seemed able to see past the smoke and mirrors to the sleight of hand the trick required. While Sebastian knew James would watch for anything like that, he also knew how bored James was since the suicide-under-duress of the consulting detective. Boredom could make James careless, or so he worried.

Better to ask a stupid question and be mocked than risk the thought not occurring to James.

[sooochangeable]

"Well that's the problem isn't it?" He giggled, still on that high and reveling in his choice of words.

"The records that day, the day of this log -" He pointed at the computer screen that held the code. "- have been tampered with. The whole morning that day is a complete blank. Nobody signed on, or off, including our friend." A tap on the screen. "Unfortunately for them, they used a government issued computer to gain access to a government issued computer. So. The records that don't exist on the battlefield are at home base. The original hard-drive that issued the search. Now they either can't or purposefully didn't - which is honestly more likely - delete their end of the search. But every computer in Dear Queen Mother's service has the wipe as an option. Erase everything in the memory, even down to the hard-drive evidence. You can do that with specific things to, very specific. But you'd have to be computer keen to do that and have top notch access to override all those pesky security blocks.

I couldn't even hack into that. Too many firewalls and passcodes for my system. I would need a computer with the same capabilities as the one I was hacking. Which means - government issued. Very high up."

"You see where I'm getting at, darling?"

[precisionfocus]

Someone with top clearance with access to a government-issued computer. Someone like that who would have any reason to check up on everything about Moran. Not just military files-- he might think it was a C.O. or the like, wanting him back in the service. But everything.

One name came to mind.

"Mycroft Holmes."

[sooochangeable]

"Yes," the but lingered in the air. He was thinking. And thinking hard. His fingers threaded together, steeped like the high roof of a church in front of his thin lips.

His eyes narrowed a bit and as he typed in a few more lines of code into his computer. While his 'hacking' with Sherlock had largely been that of people and what they were willing to do, James was far more competent with a computer than simple hacking. He wasn't kidding about being able to blow up N.A.T.O in alphabetical order. But that was for a rainy day.

"Either him or one of his stooges. Either way the trace goes directly toward his computer, so he looked at the information himself."

James leaned forward, completely enraptured by what he was reading. Very slowly....he smiled. It was coy and quick, and was taken over by a blank expression as he quietly whispered, "Will you be just as fun?"

As if he suddenly remembered Sebastian's exsistance, he looks to the man and smiles. His teeth are blue from the light of the computer screens and the grin is horrible, twisted. As he speaks it vaporizes, "He knows we're watching him watch you. Us," he corrects himself. "I suspect in few moments time we'll be given a time, a place or some sort of pathetic ultimatum."

[precisionfocus]

Indeed, it took only a few moments before James's cellphone lit up. Not hard to believe Mycroft Holmes would have the number, no. Though, it was a text, rather than a call. Still not terribly surprising, nor was the signature at the end of the text. After all, Mycroft had never responded to any of James's texts.

Rook to Queen.
H

Sebastian picked up the phone, looked at it, and then offered it to James.

[sooochangeable]

'What is it?' dies on his lips, a sneer accompanying it falls short as well and his eyes widen dramatically at the text.

"Oh..."

And he curls into himself, wriggling with giddy laughter like some overly-excitable teenage girl over her crush of the week. Completely unstable. Happy.

"Oh this is delicious!" He straightens from his little ball of glee. Still tittering on under his breath with wide, lit-up eyes. He snatches back the phone and chuckles once more before typing something up.

[precisionfocus]

"Chess."

He knows that much, knows how to play. He can even understand the sort of metaphor. Because James is a master tactician, a chess grandmaster. And Holmes... Either of the Holmes men would understand the game, excel at it.

And somehow he's been drawn into the game. The analogy has something to do with the papers he received. But what's the rook and what's the queen? And what does that mean for him?

[sooochangeable]

Queen to Bishop. xx

- JM

"Chess, Chinese checkers, poker, Russian roulette - Whatever you call it, Sebastian, it's a game."

He snaps it out as he types, sounding as traditionally irritable as he would with any common lackey. Sometimes he got like this with Sebastian when he was in a particularly bad mood, but now - now he was absolutely beside himself with joy. Or at least he was before he spoke again. Whatever it meant, this text message changed things. Rearranged the pieces on the board. Established a new game.

"One I am very eager for," his voice softens again; as if he remembered suddenly who he was speaking to. Briskly, he handed Sebastian's phone back to the sniper. The whole thing warmed by the palm of his hand.

"I have to go. Take some precautions; burn the papers. I'll be back shortly."

He started dressing himself quickly enough, but then decided he didn't quite like his tie.

Off to the closet to pick another. Might have to change the pocket square to match too.