Moriarty read the text, a smile creeping across his face. The queen had been captured. The game had begun. After he saw to her accommodations he'd make his next move. Informing the king of the stakes.
"If I had to guess I'd say she's on her way," the man said.
"She should be arriving any minute," Moriarty replied.
"I'll take that as my cue," the man said, turning to head for the door.
"You don't want to see her?"
After everything the man told him, their past together, Moriarty expected him to want a front row seat. Why the hell was he leaving? It didn't make sense.
"Rose and I will have our time together. I assure you, but not just yet."
If he wasn't going to stick around Moriarty needed something to connect them. A name would be good. Something she'd recognize.
"You still haven't given me your name."
"My name?" the man asked, turning back.
"What's in a name? I've had dozens."
Moriarty resisted the urge to yell at him. They had to get along…for now. At least until Sherlock was out of the picture, not that he couldn't handle the detective on his own, but two psychopaths were better than one.
"I can understand the draw of not having one, but it's a bit tedious. Don't you think?"
He seemed to consider Moriarty's words.
"Foreman. Gatri Foreman."
"Gatri? That's rather odd."
"It's from a name given to me."
"An old friend," he replied before stepping out the door.
Moriarty sat down in one of the only two chairs in the room. He picked up his tea and took a drink. Ms. Tyler would be arriving soon. It wouldn't be long now. Sherlock would be the first to go and this time there wouldn't be any mistakes. No rising from the dead.
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