Moriarty X Sherlock Novels & Stories

Knowing before it would ever be confirmed that the stone Morgan saw in her vision was indeed the exact same one I was describing. “Maybe our suspect has a few answers. After all, it was her scent you discovered in the inner vault.” Rhett supplies and suggests. “Then let’s go ask my murdering bitch of a mate some questions.” I cracked my knuckles, ready to interrogate her. Focused on answers, I didn’t notice the room had stilled and Hunji and Morgan’s eyes were on me. “What?” I ask wondering what the fuck else they could hit me with. “The suspect is your mate?” Morgan gasps. Shit, I had forgotten Rhett was the only one that knew.

Marco started to say something, but seeing Dante's state, he shut his mouth. In the Chicago underworld, Dante Moretti was a legend. Cold, ruthless, always in control. No one had ever seen him look weak. No one had ever seen him shed a tear. But now, the legend was on his knees beside a filthy puddle, as helpless as a child who had lost his mother. Finally, they found it. Alessia’s SIM card. Dante clutched it like a holy relic, thinking maybe, just maybe, it held a final message she wanted him to see.

With days passing Hanes became more and more desperate to either kill Scarlet or extract the code from her. Since the second option became almost impossible, he felt the first option was the only way left for him. What he cannot have, nobody should have in this world. Sherlock was a sadist. He would in no way allow the Russian mafia to become the unbeatable. If Italians cannot achieve the code and become undefeatable, the Russians shouldn't either. "Sir these are the details of the ballistic expert whom we are going to hire." Sherlock narrowed his eyes, unable to understand why a ballistic expert came into picture.

He picked up the picture of the young girl and looked again. After a minute, he understood everything. A younger Margaret was staring back at him. The same seductive facial features, the same deep dark eyes. You didn’t have to be Sherlock Holmes to realise that the two women were related. Daughter? A sister? In fact, Darren didn’t care very much. He clearly understood that it was really important to Margaret and he also understood that he was not indifferent to this woman and would do everything in his power to help her.

Luana's fingers dug into Cline's collar, her knuckles whitening from the strain. After a moment of hesitation, memories of walking on eggshells around him flooded back. She abruptly released him, her tone ice-cold and mechanical, "Mr. Moriarty, we were once business partners. Now that we've parted ways, why speak of love?" Outside the door, Dorian's anxious shouts cut through the heavy air, "Dorothy!" Pushes and muffled struggles accompanied his voice.

In the end, Damien stood over him with a calm breath, unshaken. Sherlock could not rise again. Damien’s sword had struck him to the ground from his neck, deep into his chest. His existence was wiped completely. Damien turned to see Orion and others dealing with his army. “Look at the doom you built with your hand crumbling fast. May your soul never find rest.” Damien cursed him before slicing his sword through his open chest and drawing it violently. Sherlock howled loudly in pain, the ground vibrating violently. Then, a great silence followed. ********

In my pack, I barely have an inner council. I just have people I listen to, and Mor has been one of those people. She’s also been right more times than I can count. But if Mort is on my side here, “Why do you think she isn’t?” Mort sits, even though I didn't ask him to. He sniffs the air for a split second, and I know he picks up her scent. Mor can pick up Morwenna’s scent anywhere. He turns to me and launches right into it, “Anyone spying on us either has to be working for either the Night pack or the Redstone pack.

Helma bit her lip, thinking about the other leads she had—not just the body. Morgan was on the case too, trying to pin down who that knockout lady pulling the strings was. The dead guy in grey was no amateur; he knew his way around a crossbow, which meant he was not just some low-level goon in their gang. If that stunning lady was calling the shots for him, she had to be pretty high up the ladder. Morgan had a snapshot, and with that, cracking this case should be a breeze.

She said and looked me in the eye and stared at the photo. “The one in the right was stabbed to death and the one on the left was shot in the head,” She said. That makes me amazed because we never told her about that. She can sense energy and finally there is someone who can help me more about my situation. “They are killed because of hatred and the one who made it… is someone who relates to the guy who has a headshot… and that is the girl,” She added. That makes me take a deep breath and look at Devon and I look at Luna again. While Devon is seriously listening to her.