Saving Moriarty

There's a line between being someone's wife and being Jim Moriarty's wife. It's been 14 years and I haven't thought about how much I missed my freedom. I gave up everything to become his. I'm Melanie Moriarty. Here's my story.

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9. Chapter 9

                The visit to the doctor’s office only confirmed the test that I’d take at the apartment. Normal couples would have been ecstatic about the news. Jim seemed mildly pleased. He wanted an heir, really. A boy to teach what he does. When we had first gotten married, I had protested the idea, so much that Jim just let it be until I was older. Now, I just let it happen. I think I’d be happier with a child to raise.

                The nurse wanted to do an ultrasound. There would be no real pictures. That wouldn’t be for a while. This was simply for them to check since I’d had a miscarriage. Jim insisted.

                He stepped out to take a phone call. It lasted about five minutes, long enough for the nurse to squirt the cold gel on my stomach and showed me the empty image on the screen. She printed it out to attempt to make me feel better. The second Jim came back into the room; I knew he was needed elsewhere.

                “You don’t have to stay, Jim,” I said.

                There was no argument. “I’ll leave the car to take you home.” Jim kissed my forehead, mostly in show for the nurse, and then he was gone.

                I took a few minutes to myself in the hallway. Clutching the paper to my chest, another couple came out of the next room. The woman was probably in her mid-twenties and 7 months pregnant. Her husband tickled her sides and they both laughed. They passed me, giving me polite congrats, which I returned.

                I’m pregnant.

                Once my mind caught up with that realization, there would be a million things to do. As exciting as that was, I knew I’d be on my own. Jim wouldn’t want to do any nursery planning or baby proofing. Sighing, I stood up straighter and shook my head. I wasn’t going to let that bother me. I wanted to make the most of having a baby. He or she was mine.

                “Melanie,” Mary’s voice came from behind me. Her forehead creased in worry. “Are you alright?”

                Before I could even answer, she had started to ask if I was hurt and wanted John to look me over. She stopped mid-sentence when her eyes fell to the thing in my hand. “You’re pregnant.”

                “Yes, I am.” I bit out.

                “Is it…” She paused. No one was around. “Is it his? Moriarty’s?”

                I narrowed my eyes at her. I never truly liked or trusted Mary. “Of course, it is.”

                As soon as Jim released the “did you miss me” tape, I knew things would be different. The media had a field day with it, even hounding me, wanting to know about Jim. As far as they know, I hadn’t had any contact with him. Still, on certain days, I would watch a reporter waiting on the corner of the street hoping to catch a glimpse or snap a picture of Jim. They never would.

                Mary sighed, partially looking disgusted but she covered it up quickly when the door to the stairwell swung open. John came speed walking in, talking about her disappearing. All of that stopped when he saw me.

                “I left you messages. Asking if you were alright,” John said.

                “I know. I received them. Things have been quite busy lately,” I replied, offering him a small smile. It faded when Mary scoffed.

                “Busy? She’s pregnant.”

                John’s eyes grew wide. The realization of who’s it was spread over him slowly. There was no opportunity to argue much before I found myself down in one of the labs in the basement of the building. Molly… the girl Jim pretended to date… she droned on about something to Sherlock, who blatantly ignored her.

                “Melanie is pregnant, Sherlock.” John interrupted.

                “Yes,” Sherlock replied.

                John paused, licking his lips and tilting his head in frustration. “Yes? What do you mean yes?”

                “I noticed two days ago. Yes, I’ve been checking up on her. Yes, I didn’t tell you. Are we all caught up?” Sherlock asked. He had yet to look up from the microscope.

                “Um… no… well, who’s she?” Molly asked. She seemed to recognize me from our first encounter at the suit shop.

                “Melanie Moriarty, wife to James Moriarty, mother to his unborn son,” Sherlock clarified.

                “Wife?” Molly’s mouth dropped open.

                “Of fourteen years. And you can’t know it’s a boy,” I said. Fourteen long years… years that were stolen from me.

                “That’s what he wants,” Sherlock said.

                “Why does Moriarty want a child?” John asked, making the room go quiet. Finally, Sherlock looked up from his microscope.

                “Obvious—”

                “No! Not you, Sherlock! I want her to tell me,” John snapped at Sherlock.

                To my surprise, he didn’t have a smart-ass remark. All of them stared at me. I had no doubts that Sherlock could have already deduced why Jim wanted a baby. What I wasn’t sure about was I am prepared to tell them? My instincts went with the safest route.

                “To pacify me, mostly. If I have a child, it will keep me occupied and happy while he’s gone.” I gauged their initial reaction.

                Mary seemed on the fence about the explanation.

                Molly couldn’t stop gaping at me.

                John slowly nodded, seemingly convinced.

                Sherlock, on the other hand, rolled his eyes. He must know why. “Tell me about Carl Powers.”

                “Seriously, Sherlock?” John asked, exasperated.

                This was the deal. A secret for a secret. I could tell him all about Carl Powers and the cruel things he did to me, in exchange for Sherlock not telling them that Jim wanted a son to train to take his place one day.

                “One story. That’s all I have time for,” I replied.

                Sherlock couldn’t sit still. I took his stool and placed my hands in my lap. I hated remembering Carl. He was the worst of bullies and back then, I believed he deserved to die. Jim saw that. He saw all my anger and hurt and used it to justify killing him.

                “Carl and my brother, Evan, never got along, but Evan was always much bigger than Carl. So instead of picking a fight with him, Carl turned to tormenting me. Jim was the first person to be kind to me, and to stand up for me…”

               

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