[That's about as far as that first little exchange can be taken. John's becoming more nervous about the rest of it. Should he just hang up? That might look worse.]
The addicts aren't interested in the low-level stuff, Mr. Pierce. That's not what gets you high.
Kills, not tying someone up, sir. I must have misspoken when we talked about it. I was a bit distracted.
[He is curious how far Watson is going to take this. He is perfectly fine playing this game after all. He was more or less in his element and it's not like he's planning on moving out of the house he's residing in today.]
What does get you high in a place like this, Doctor Watson?
You do seem to not have your ducks in a row on this matter. What does that say about your potential doctoring skills if you can't even keep details like what you ask someone to do for you? Do you suffer from PTSD?
[He can almost feel the trap closing and the shift in the texting. And here he was just minding his own business.]
And what am I looking for, Doctor? You've clearly come here for a purpose, and I don't yet feel like we've reached the conclusion that you're aiming for.
I don't suppose that it is, unless the lives of your patients could be put at risk because of it.
I just wanted to check-in on you, Mr. Pierce. That maze was a bit of trouble for everyone. I don't know what you're looking for at the moment, but it seems to be something, as well. But maybe you'll find it on the network.
You're free to speak with any of my patients if you believe I've been compromised in some way. I'm certain they can reassure you about my prescriptions and my surgical capabilities.
Was that all? I think the next time you check in on me, you should stick to being frank and honest about your purpose. I respect a man who can approach me with honesty rather than skulking around with warnings not to speak and to send me to a place he has clearly designed to bring me harm.
Then I would like a list of your patient's names in order to investigate this matter.
You know exactly what it means. I know you're gonna use anything I say against me out of context, so figure out the specifics on your own damn time if you haven't got it.
This isn't about you being a politician, Mr. Pierce, but I'm sure you're a very good one. And that's your game, isn't it? You don't lie. You just omit and you insinuate and you never actually incriminate because you're too clever for that.
[Now that was better. Why couldn't they be at this point all along?]
Is that what you were told? You do realize there are two sides to every story. I suppose because you're emotionally invested, you'll only hurl words and accusations at me because it's easier than investigating other avenues of truth.
[He knows it's true. He knows it's true. And so does Pierce.]
I'm going to tell you a story, Mr. Pierce. It's about a man named Richard Brook. He wasn't a very nice man. In fact, he was very bad man, one of the worst London had ever seen. But no one knew it. Rich Brook was a children's television presenter, you see. Nothing wrong with that. He had a whole portfolio, appearances, awards. There was one problem.
Rich Brook never existed.
Here was a man who could pull on any mask and wear it perfectly. He had the resources at his fingertips and the brain to become anyone he needed to be. One day he was Rich, another day he was just an IT man or a tourist, but most days, on the days when he let his true colors show, he was a spider of a man named James Moriarty.
Rich Brook, James Moriarty, managed to convince the world that he was something that he was very much not, and he used that to bring better men down, to drag them through the mud and put them through hell. Because wouldn't someone, anyone just listen to his side of the story? And he had such a story. People ate it up. It was the story they wanted to hear, a fairy tale complete with a villain and a hero and the unmasking of a king.
You want to know the best way to sell a lie? Wrap it up in truth. You can make someone swallow anything, even yourself, if you make it palatable with the truth.
[There was a long pause before his reply, mostly because he was actually writing down the key points of this story to have it physically on hand so that he could dissect it over the course of the coming days. This Mr. Moriarty seemed like an excellent man to seek a recruitment for in HYDRA after all.]
And what was Mr. Moriarty's motivations? Why did he do all of these things that he did? Why put on a mask? Why drag other men through the mud? To what end was he playing this apparent hand of his?
Well, he had a business to run, didn't he? The world's only consulting criminal. And better men got in his way. He promised to burn the heart out of the best and the most amazing man that I know because he got in the way.
And he stopped him. James Moriarty was stopped. Just like you will be.
But please. Tell me your story, Mr. Pierce. I'm sure it's a good one.
[A consulting criminal? What a dastardly notion to consider, but it was a bit too colourful for his liking. The world needed less criminals, not more.]
Was that all? He was a businessman and had no other personal motivations for what he was doing? I'm apologize if I find that a bit too flat. People are complex. They are layers of motivations, some even conflicting each other.
Who did he try to burn and fail?
I'm sensing sarcasm, which means you don't honestly believe any of that statement. I don't waste time on close-minded men, not even ones that I respect.
I'm not a detective. I'm a doctor and an assistant to a consulting detective. He was also dead the last time I saw him. Makes for a fairly one-sided conversation.
You keep saying that. All I did was ask you to look into something for me. Do you know something I don't, Mr. Pierce?
And you clearly see no concern at seeing the death of him either. Though to be fair, I'm dead, and we're having a conversation. You never know about second chances.
He shot himself in the head with a handgun. We weren't close.
[And if Moriarty were to come here... John's not sure what he'd do. He'd have to deal with him, though. He couldn't let that man get to Sherlock again. Never again.]
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The addicts aren't interested in the low-level stuff, Mr. Pierce. That's not what gets you high.
Kills, not tying someone up, sir. I must have misspoken when we talked about it. I was a bit distracted.
[This is bad. This is really bad.]
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What does get you high in a place like this, Doctor Watson?
You do seem to not have your ducks in a row on this matter. What does that say about your potential doctoring skills if you can't even keep details like what you ask someone to do for you? Do you suffer from PTSD?
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I believe Dr. House uses Vicodin. Narcotics, in general, could probably get you up. But I know you're not looking for that, Mr. Pierce.
I don't believe my medical history is any of your business, either.
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And what am I looking for, Doctor? You've clearly come here for a purpose, and I don't yet feel like we've reached the conclusion that you're aiming for.
I don't suppose that it is, unless the lives of your patients could be put at risk because of it.
text
You're free to speak with any of my patients if you believe I've been compromised in some way. I'm certain they can reassure you about my prescriptions and my surgical capabilities.
text
Then I would like a list of your patient's names in order to investigate this matter.
[No, he just wants a list of names.]
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You're one to talk!
And you can bloody well ask for people on the network to volunteer. I'm not breaking their confidentiality by giving you a list.
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Well at least you have some sense of propriety.
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Let's make a deal, shall we, Doctor Watson?
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[But it wouldn't stop him from destroying you if you get in his way. At least he was being honest?]
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[Well, there's the plan to not be overt out the window. John can't help it. The clandestine sniping is better left to people like Natasha.]
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Is that what you were told? You do realize there are two sides to every story. I suppose because you're emotionally invested, you'll only hurl words and accusations at me because it's easier than investigating other avenues of truth.
text
I'm going to tell you a story, Mr. Pierce. It's about a man named Richard Brook. He wasn't a very nice man. In fact, he was very bad man, one of the worst London had ever seen. But no one knew it. Rich Brook was a children's television presenter, you see. Nothing wrong with that. He had a whole portfolio, appearances, awards. There was one problem.
Rich Brook never existed.
Here was a man who could pull on any mask and wear it perfectly. He had the resources at his fingertips and the brain to become anyone he needed to be. One day he was Rich, another day he was just an IT man or a tourist, but most days, on the days when he let his true colors show, he was a spider of a man named James Moriarty.
Rich Brook, James Moriarty, managed to convince the world that he was something that he was very much not, and he used that to bring better men down, to drag them through the mud and put them through hell. Because wouldn't someone, anyone just listen to his side of the story? And he had such a story. People ate it up. It was the story they wanted to hear, a fairy tale complete with a villain and a hero and the unmasking of a king.
You want to know the best way to sell a lie? Wrap it up in truth. You can make someone swallow anything, even yourself, if you make it palatable with the truth.
text
And what was Mr. Moriarty's motivations? Why did he do all of these things that he did? Why put on a mask? Why drag other men through the mud? To what end was he playing this apparent hand of his?
text
And he stopped him. James Moriarty was stopped. Just like you will be.
But please. Tell me your story, Mr. Pierce. I'm sure it's a good one.
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Was that all? He was a businessman and had no other personal motivations for what he was doing? I'm apologize if I find that a bit too flat. People are complex. They are layers of motivations, some even conflicting each other.
Who did he try to burn and fail?
I'm sensing sarcasm, which means you don't honestly believe any of that statement. I don't waste time on close-minded men, not even ones that I respect.
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Funny enough, I didn't sit down with him to have a chat about it.
If you can't figure that out, I think I was wrong about you being clever.
You're free to tell me any time, Mr. Pierce. My inbox is always open, of course.
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Perhaps you were wrong.
A kind offer, but your bias against me makes it difficult for me to trust you. After all, I'm already aware of your previous set-ups.
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You keep saying that. All I did was ask you to look into something for me. Do you know something I don't, Mr. Pierce?
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Of course I do.
text (cw: reference to suicide)
[And if Moriarty were to come here... John's not sure what he'd do. He'd have to deal with him, though. He couldn't let that man get to Sherlock again. Never again.]
What's that, then?
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