but all you hear are lies | Moriarty (Fast)

[DETECTIVE OLIVIA ATHOS]

You spend your days alone still hoping for the truth oh
But all you hear are lies
But no one else is gonna tell you what to do now
No one else is gonna to help you hold the line.

The amount of respect Detective Olivia had for Sherlock Holmes was so profuse that when he entrusted her with the case file for Moriarty she nearly fainted. Although she’d never admit it, and she did her best to keep professional, she had felt the urge to hug and perhaps even kiss him right then and there. However, her consideration of professionalism Sherlock’s rather… eccentric personality prevented her from a momentary loss of self control. Within hours of being handed that manila folder Olivia had it committed to memory. She poured herself over it from the moment it touched her fingers, sitting hunched over in her office, eyes transfixed on every piece of evidence, every handwritten report, every minute detail; and when Sherlock Holmes was on the case there were plenty of them.

If there was one thing Olivia noticed about his reports, besides the attention to detail, it would be the constant reference to a Professor James Edwards. The name had to have been scrawled on the corner of every page or highlighted or circled or occasionally stared six times just for emphasis. Having hit several dead ends in the Ripper case Olivia decided to take Sherlock up on his offer and poke around the cold case for a few days. Sometimes if she distracted herself from one case with another details just sort of shifted into place.

The drive to NYU was like a blast from the past. Olivia hadn’t visited her alma mater in quite some time and it was strange to step back onto campus, especially to interrogate one of its professors. Although she’d never had Professor Edwards during her stint at NYU she’d certainly heard of him. He was revered and considered one of the most brilliant minds of the century. Apparently, according to Sherlock mind you, he was also a master criminal, the Napoleon of Crime. Not that Olivia was one to doubt the sharp mind and keen investigative prowess of Detective Holmes but, she was going to take everything written in that report with a grain of salt until she met the man herself.

Strolling up to the front entrance after parking her unmarked car in the student lot, Olivia suddenly felt like she was eighteen years old. It was exactly how she remembered it. Only this time she was a detective not a naïve girl with dreams of grandeur. Her black stilettos were hidden beneath a pair of dark wash jeans but, still made a soft click as she paced down the hallway. She tried to look relaxed, care-free, the way she felt when she first stepped foot in this building eight years before. Her white t-shirt was form-fitting but, appropriate. Her black leather jacket was unzipped and gave her that devil-may-care sort of look that she was quite fond of these days. Clutching to her over the shoulder bag, a last minute addition to her “collegiate outfit”, Olivia pushed open the door to Professor James Edwards early afternoon class ten minutes early.

Taking a seat in the back row Olivia leaned back in her chair resting one arm on the back of the chair and the other on the desk her chin leaning on her hand. Students shuffled in, not taking notice to the strange new visitor occupying the third to last seat in the back row. Dazed and probably hung-over they were more preoccupied with pulling out their notebooks and chatting about last nights killer techno rave at the Alpha Sigma Tau house. Olivia kept to herself, trying to remain as invisible as possible. It wasn’t until Professor Edwards sauntered into the room that her eyes snapped to attention and she pulled out her own notebook. Several words were written on the page already, all key clips and phrases from Sherlock’s report; things to look for while James Edwards conducted his class. She was interested to see his teaching method, having never experienced it and more so to look for any glaring oversights in Detective Holmes’ report, although she was certain there would be none. The game was afoot…

[JAMES MORIARTY EDWARDS]

Having just finished a unit on the Fourth Amendment, James took two minutes before class to read over the exam once again. It wouldn't be easy, after all. he had to live up to his on-campus hype. Professor Edwards is a great teacher, a brilliant mind, and the writer of the most difficult tests on campus. The first question, write the Fourth Amendment as it is found in the Constitution. Miss a word, misspell a word and the question is marked wrong. After that, there were 74 multiple choice questions about how the amendment is applied in criminal law. It was harsh, James knew it, but he didn't want to go easy on his students. If they knew their material, there would be no problem. If they didn't...then they deserve to fail.

Tapping the exams against his desk, straightening them into a neat pile. There were over 120 students who were going to take the exam and James didn't want to waste time. He had the lecture block pre-scheduled as a grading period, two hours to get his work done before he had to leave for home. James hated bringing work home with him, he'd rather spend the time either fucking Sebastian or enjoying a nice glass of Scotch and a cigar.

Right on time, James walked into the classroom, his eyes scanning over his students, taking roll instantly. Everyone was there, exactly on time (like they had been trained) and there was even a new addition. James took in her appearance quickly, targeting the woman to be in her mid to late twenties, probably 26 or 27. She was most definitely not a student. His eyes only stayed on her for a split second before he went about his business. Setting the tests down on his desk lightly, James pulled his keys out and walked up the lecture hall stairs. Doors were locked on time, always.

"As you all know, you have an exam today. 75 questions. The first question is worth a quarter of the overall score so don't screw it up. Either you answer correctly," James spoke, projecting his voice over his students. They all straightened, almost at attention, taking in what he said seriously. "Or you don't. There is no partial credit," Back at the front of the room, James picked up the stack of exams. Dividing it in half, James passed one chunk off to Tucker, his aid, and instructed him to pass them out to the bottom rows. James moved himself towards the top of the stairs once more, starting to hand off tests for the entire row as he went. At the top row, James stepped into the row, handing the tests off to his real pupil, not the woman trying to so hard to blend in. Her outfit, probably carefull chosen, looked contrived and ridiculous, not to mention her obviously older age made her stand out.

"In my office," He told the woman lowly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Through the door to the left of the chalk board," Turning swiftly on his heel, James walked back down the steps where Tucker stood expectantly. Facing the class once more, his voice rose to its educatiorial volume. "You will have the entirety of the class period. My aid, Tucker, will be supervising. He will take the exam of anyone who talks, looks at another student, or appears to be cheating. You may begin," Giving Tucker a nod, James went to his office, opening the door and walking inside.

[DETECTIVE OLIVIA ATHOS]

Olivia was constantly amazed by Detective Holmes’ keen attention to detail. As anticipated Professor Edwards entered the classroom, sternly captivated his students with his dark, haunting tone, and singled Olivia out as the cog in the works. Damn. She couldn’t help but smirk. It was a work of art. She didn’t mind the one-hundred and twenty stares that came her way the moment he called attention to her presence. Hell, she was just so amused by it all she didn’t care. It was pretty damn obvious that she didn’t belong there. While there were plenty of older students, some in the fifties even, there was no way Olivia was one of them. Thankful that she had never taken a course with the infamous Professor Edwards, she grabbed her bag, slung it over her shoulder and headed toward the door.

A seventy-five question test with the first question worth one-fourth of the grade. Hah, she didn’t envy those students. Although, she was fairly certain after reading the first line of the page that she’d probably pass. She wasn’t haughty about it, knowing that she would have been up all night studying if she had had a hard ass like James. Olivia liked to be prepared, it was in her nature. Plus, she knew the law like the back of her hand, so rewriting the fourth amendment verbatim would have been a cinch.

The right of the people to be secure in their persons, houses, papers, and effects, against unreasonable searches and seizures, shall not be violated, and no Warrants shall issue, but upon probable cause, supported by Oath or affirmation, and particularly describing the place to be searched, and the persons or things to be seized. she smiled at Tucker as she reached to front of the room. He was going to be the lucky son of a bitch to grade most of these to be sure.

Olivia could barely contain her excitement, she loved the hunt. That eager, nervous tension in the pit of her stomach that told her a suspect was going to be a challenge. Challenges were her favorite. Olivia was the detective that was called in to deal with those hard to handle suspects. She didn’t back down, didn’t shy away, and didn’t take their shit, even when they had her shoved up against a wall (both figuratively and literally). Professor James Edwards, the potential M, was going to be a challenging case indeed. Olivia didn’t expect much from their encounter. She knew he wasn’t going to crack for her, not now anyway. He was a tight-lipped, clever man who had proved he wasn’t going to fall for rookie tricks. She was certain she could have been coyer about her appearance but, Sherlock had insisted she try and stick out just a little bit. He seemed convinced that by appearing green and inexperienced Professor Edwards would think she wasn’t a threat. Olivia liked the way he thought.

His guard was going to be up, that was for sure. He was going to try and get her to leave; try and intimidate her. Olivia wiped the smirk off her face as soon as her hand touched the door handle. She took a deep breath, gathering her composure and lowering her shoulders back. She could feel the weight of her badge on her hip and the piece that was strapped in beside it. This was it. This was the moment she’d been waiting for all week. She pushed the door open and stepped into the professor’s office. Detective Olivia Athos was stepping into the middle of a dangerous game. One that Sherlock had started and she was determined to finish.

That little voice in her head resounded “What the hell am I getting myself into?”

[JAMES MORIARTY EDWARDS]

James closed the door to his office quietly and leaned against it, crossing his arms. His critical eye turned to the woman and looked over her. The way her bag leaned against her hip was peculiar, indicating there was something against her hip that wasn't usual. A quick calculation told him exactly how large that obstruction was and James figured it out. Two and two made four, a painfully obvious collegiate outfit paired with standard issue police weapon made a detective. A detective hand fed suggestions by Holmes surely. It was a clever rouse, dressing as an inexperienced police officer; to snare James no doubt, to get him to lose his head in his superiority and let something lose. Sherlock Holmes had devised it, no doubt. Having sparred with the man repeatedly, James knew his tricks. They had similar minds: disarm the opponent by lulling them into a false sense of security and authority. Sending in a 'green' detective was aimed to do just that and it would have had James not known better from first hand.

"What can I do for you Detective...?" James pushed off from the door, walking across the room to his mini-fridge. Opening it and bending down, James picked up two bottles of water. Shutting the refridgerator door, James walked back over to the woman and, instead of handing her a bottle of water, sat it on his desk. "Forgive my manners. Please, have a seat," James motioned to one of the plush and comfortable chairs he kept in front of his desk. Taking the other bottle of water with him, James went to his chair. Unbuttoning his jacket, James sat down and leaned back, crossing his legs.

He couldn't wait to see what this young woman thought she could do. What questions would she ask him, he wondered. Before entering she had a notebook open. James had stolen a glance from the notebook, seeing terms and phrases that described him to a 't'. All from Holmes. James had once, for amusement, broken into the station and peeked at his own file. It took moments to read to whole thing, commiting Holmes's notes to memory instantly. Those phrases on the girl's notebook had been in the file.

"Has Detective Holmes put you up to this?" James asked, resting his elbow on the arm of his chair then leaning his chin on his hand. "The man has been relentless in his harassment of me,"

[DETECTIVE OLIVIA ATHOS]

There was something predatory about the way James leaned against his office door, arms crossed, his cold, calculating gaze fixated on Olivia. She could see it in those eyes; he was piecing it all together. She knew she should have followed her instincts and done things her own way. Holmes was too close to this. Too eager. Too… Holmes. Detective Athos, in all her infinite wisdom, had sensed this would happen and attempted to devise a plan of action. Only, as Professor Edwards crossed the room, calling her out as a detective, she suddenly felt defeated. He retrieved two water bottles from the mini fridge and instead of handing one to her he placed it over on his desk. He was luring her in and she had no choice but to take the bait. She’d already triggered the trap when she stepped into this classroom now it was time to deal.

Olivia sauntered across the room, her usual, strong walk returned; shoulders back, eyes forward, alert. He was smooth, slinking into his chair with elegance and poise, her presence not fazing him in the least. Was it possible to have happened upon two suspects on two separate cases that both seemed so collected and prepared? What happened to the stupid criminals? Olivia accepted his offer and slowly sat in the chair across from his desk. She left the water right where he had placed it despite craving the cold drink. The damn heat wave still hadn’t broken. Athos was about to answer his query about her intentions for being here when he said the one thing she’d been dreading.

"Has Detective Holmes put you up to this?"

She hid her disappointment well, tilting her head to the side and smiling. He’d skipped the pleasantries and nipped everything in the bud. Olivia had rather hoped he wouldn’t have led on that he knew why she was there, it ruined the fun. But, they would have arrived at this moment sooner or later, and she supposed sooner would be better than later. "The man has been relentless in his harassment of me."

He crossed one leg over the other and leaned forward. “Honestly, yes.” she answered. “And the captain is down right sick of it.” which was true. Hell, it was the only reason he let Athos come down here today. He wanted this whole damn thing to come to an end. “Seems to have quite a list of accusations concerning you, Professor. Not to mention a few assertions as to your character.”

Olivia pulled open her notebook, her green eyes never leaving James Edwards’ face. He was a rock; stoic, cold, blank. “I’m here to set the record straight.” She leaned back, resting the end of her pen on her lips. He couldn’t call her a liar, everything she said was true. Although, she was pretty sure he’d think she was just trying to get on his side. So many detectives tried that “technique” on suspects. The I-don’t-agree-with-his-methods-help-me-help-you sort of thing. For Olivia this was uncharted territory and she was ready for the challenge. Her confidence wouldn’t be shaken by a few well-crafted sentences and a stern glare.

"So if you don't mind answering a few questions, I can be on my way and you can be on yours."

This was a game of cat and mouse and Olivia was pretty sure she was the mouse.

[JAMES MORIARTY EDWARDS]

James had to stifle a laugh. It was an old routine used to gyp information out of persons of interest. The second she had entered the room James knew that she had lost any control she may have had. He had further stolen that control by skipping the small talk. James opened his water bottle, taking a measured sip, his eyes not leaving the detective's. Now, James had to decide how he wanted to play this. He could comply with her request or make it difficult for her. To ask her to reschedule would put her at his mercy but James didn't feel like spending more time than he had to on the detective. Flicking his tongue over his lower lip, catching the last bit of water there, James twisted the cap back onto the bottle and leaned back.

"So if you don't mind answering a few questions, I can be on my way and you can be on yours."

Ignoring the woman's request, James asked brusquely for her name. "You've been remiss not telling me. After all, it would only be polite, you do know who I am," James knew she was a detective but he wasn't up to date on the most recent list of up and coming minds in the force. He had spent his time tangoing with Holmes, not being able to educated himself on the other detectives that would look into him. Not that they'd find anything.

He was far too good for them to find anything. Holmes had only figured out as much as he had because of his brilliant, unorthodox mind. The good detective thought in unusual patterns and strange shapes much like James did. He seriously doubted that this girl had the same ability. In fact, he knew that she didn't. She was already on the defensive, spinning a pointless facade. She didn't want to help him, she wanted answers to impress Holmes. No doubt she idolized him as many nubile detectives of the female persuasion did. Was she trying to get James to talk to her as a way to get on Holmes's good side? There was the chance that she was taking him on as simply a way to keep herself amused.

There was a reason why the Moriarty case was labeled as cold.

[DETECTIVE OLIVIA ATHOS]

Olivia gazed around his office for a moment. Four years of her life spent in between the walls of this school and she’d never stepped foot in here before. Winter had. He couldn’t stop talking about Professor Edwards; Olivia was beginning to understand why. A keen, penetrating mind, a stoic persona, and criminal tendencies; she was still kicking herself for having not seen it sooner. There was a moment where she wanted to ask if he remembered the dark haired boy, but there was time for that later. In truth, Olivia had taken this case on for two reasons. One, it was Sherlock Freaking Holmes. And Two, this might bring her one step closer to finding out a little more about her ex-husband. He had recently been released from prison and Olivia was less than enthused. If she could have her way he’d be out of her life forever. There were already reports circulating about a string of bank robberies and she had a sneaky suspicion Winter was involved. A few years back he pulled off a couple heists, this was before she arrested him, and Olivia had an inkling that Professor Edwards might have had a hand in the pot.

Olivia smiled, her eyes coming back to James. He wanted to know her name. She half-expected him to address her by it, but as Holmes had suspected he was unaware. This was her advantage. He didn’t know her, didn’t know her strategies, didn’t know her record, and didn’t know her reputation. She could be a new addition to the staff, a homicide detective greener than the grass in your neighbor’s lawn. But, wasn’t. She was old hat at this shit and had the file to prove it. “Detective Athos.” She responded; her lips pursed. She ignored his snide tone, peeling her leather jacket off and folding it into a neat bundle beside her bag. Her badge remained at her hip, the clip tucked into her belt loop. The gold metal glinted in the florescent light of the office. Having that badge always made her feel strange; a mix of power and hindrance. It allowed her to work outside the law on occasion but, also restricted her from doing things she would have liked to. There was a law and she was there to uphold it, which often meant playing by the rules.

She lifted her head, her dark brown hair cascading over her shoulders. Brushing back several loose pieces behind her ear, she placed her pad on her lap and spun her pen around her finger. “How would you describe your relationship with Detective Holmes?”

“He’s brilliant, Olive. Simply brilliant.” The words flashed in her head. “Best professor in this dump. Mind like a jack knife. Heart like a stone. He’s immovable. Impenetrable. Incredible.”

“Your financial information indicates a sharp increase in funds during the summer of 1991. What might you equate this to?”

“Sharp. Determined. Do you know what he said to Johnny Dumaco? I don’t think he’ll be in class next Monday. He tore him to bits. Tough as nails, he is.” His arm was around her shoulder, his eyes bright and his lips in a wide smile. “The man’s a master. Could do anything he wanted to that Professor Edwards. I’m sure he does.”

Olivia tried to keep focused on the task at hand. She kept her eyes on James the entire time, her pen jotting down several notes as she saw fit. But, in the back of her mind there was Winter. His deep voice whispering in her ear; reminding her of her mistakes, telling her she’d never catch M, laughing at her. If there was ever a time for a drink, this was it.

[JAMES MORIARTY EDWARDS]

James watched Detective Athos remove her jacket and saw her badge, her number printed there clearly. With it forever imprinted in his memory, James continued to study the woman. There was something else on her mind, it was distracting her. James wondered if she knew just how expressive her body language was. Probably not, detectives always liked to think that they were unreadable. This girl's eyes though, were perfect windows into her soul. Something sparked familiarity in her and James had a feeling he knew what. Some time ago there was a newspaper article about a female detective arresting her own husband who was involved in a crime spree. Having the fortune of never forgetting anything he has ever read, James summoned the name of the detective in question. Olivia. What a fine name. It suited her. Now without the jacket, James let his eyes run over her body in another cursory glance. Smirking openly now, James redirected his eyes to her face as she began asking her questions.

"Well, Olivia, putting this the nicest way I know how, Holmes is an obsessive idiot, the thrill of the chase is a drug for him and, like a pitbull, he will not stop until he drags down the person he thinks is guilty," James said swiftly, his tone clipped and to the point. "Unfortunately for me, he's set his sight on me, determining my guilt before the court has even seen me. He doesn't have any solid evidence, just a...well, a hunch I suppose and he is hell bent on twisting the facts to suit him. I am not guilty, I am just hounded by an eccentric detective," Holmes had been a thorn in James's side for a while now so his irritation in speaking about him was completely accurate and well founded. Holmes had wasted so much of James's time trying to get him to admit to being M that James had to reorganize his life just to accomodate.

Even though his speaking tone had been marked with inflection found in actively participating conversationalists, James was solely focused on Athos's person. He wanted to know what was distracting her, just for the sake of knowing, but that would have to wait for later. If she took any tips from Holmes she would be back with more questions and more guided questions rather than these little blunt tools she was trying to scratch the surface with.

"My parents are embarassingly wealthy. They gave me a surprise allowance," His parents were also mildly paranoid so they kept their accounts in an off-shore Swiss bank account that couldn't be tracked, very similar to the one that James used to route the money he made off of his heists. The bank account codes and numbers were encrypted and there was no way that Detective Athos could gain grounds to decode them. She would simply find that his parents owned a Swiss bank account and that the money came from a Swiss bank account: information that James was sure that Holmes had already gathered.

"I'm rather perturbed by the fact that you didn't call before hand. I had plans already made," James gestured to the three large piles of papers stacked by the window. "Grading, you see,"

[DETECTIVE OLIVIA ATHOS]

Olivia. He called her Olivia. This was a bad, bad sign. She kept a strong face, an unfazed, totally relaxed exterior while her insides ripped, twisted and pulled. At the moment she couldn’t tell if she was angrier at Holmes, Edwards, or Winter. This is why she hated men; pompous assholes the lot of them. Holmes with his haughty attitude and constant vigilance, Edwards with his snide tone and arrogance, and Winter with his lies and pride. Was there anyone of the male persuasion that was a gentleman? Holmes had led her to the dogs seemingly for his own amusement; was there anything else he wasn’t telling her? Probably.

“I prefer Detective.” Olivia’s green eyes narrowed as she glared back at Professor Edwards, feeling more like a petulant child than an authoritative figure but, her tone was strong and even. The next time she saw Sherlock Holmes he was going to have a black eye and more than a piece of her mind. Did he always lead his fellow detectives into situations where he deliberately withheld his plans from them? Detective Athos was pretty sure he did. No wonder nobody wanted to be partnered up with him; it was infuriating. She jotted down several of the phrases that James used to describe Sherlock, circling several of them and connecting lines from Edwards’ comments to Holmes’ predictions.

“It’s remarkable.” Olivia glanced up from her notepad, “He really has you figured out, doesn’t he?” There was no smirk on her face, just honest, raw emotion as the pieces fell into place. Sherlock knew Edwards’ every move, knew his every thought, she was just a pawn to keep him on his toes. Holmes didn’t need Athos. He had this whole thing planned out in his head. It was incredible how worked up James was getting about Sherlock. How annoyed he became at the very sound of his name and the way in which he defended himself without Olivia even needing to prod. She merely asked about the relationship, it was James who felt compelled to plead his innocence. Olivia suppressed a chuckle. Holmes was a fucking genius; a crazy fucking genius.

Olivia watched James watching her and couldn’t help but grin, a small, curling grin. This was the chase. The back and forth, cat and mouse game she fell in love with at the Academy. This is why she became a detective. They were sparring, not in action, not in words, but in wits. James Edwards was a well-trained professor and a mastermind, Olivia didn’t stand a chance against him but, she didn’t need to hold up for very long. The trick was not letting his eloquent words distract or anger her. Keep cool. Keep calm. Keep alert.

“Yes, all of you accounts are in order.” Olivia glanced down at the pad for a second as if she were looking at the records of his finances. She liked the way he referred to the excess money as an “allowance”. It made him sound like a child. If there was one thing Olivia was beginning to uncover it was the James Edwards was just a little bit paranoid. He was trying to cover his tracks; tracks that Olivia would be hard pressed to find. But, it was becoming clear that they were there. Somewhere.

She’d been expecting James to mention her unexpected arrival. All of the more audacious suspects always did. “My apologies, Professor. Holmes was under the impression that would prefer a personal visit rather than a summons to the precinct. The Captain’s secretary was supposed to have called; I only assumed that presence would have been expected. Although, Holmes explicated stated in his reports that you, what was the phrasing he used? Oh, yes. ‘relished a challenge and were stunningly adept at observation’ it was only procedure that I test his report’s accuracy.”

Olivia lifted an eyebrow almost defiantly. Holmes had Edwards number, Athos was sure of it. The only problem was the Edwards had his. “If now is an inconvenient time, we can reschedule.”

[JAMES MORIARTY EDWARDS]

James saw that his using her first name had unsettled Athos. Of course, she hid it very well but there were some movements that she couldn't control. The minute twitch of her eyebrows and the tightening of her mouth were instant signs of distress. Never letting up his smirk as she seemed to figure it all out. Oh, she was three steps behind everything. Holmes did have him figured out, James was willing to admit, but James also had Holmes figured out. Athos was sent to him as a way to, perhaps, knock him off guard. Holmes was too close and too focused, the detective knew that James would be able to anticipate his every breath, every thought, every convuluted plan. By sending in a new face, Holmes was hoping to glean some new information from James but James simply could not allow that. Chuckling a little, James opened his desk drawer and removed his ash tray. Nonchalantly, James pulled out his tin of cigarettes and lit one, holding the first breath and then exhaling slowly.

Holmes may have had him figured out but this slip of girl had no idea. Without Sherlock's clever little cheat sheet, Olivia Athos would be clueless. She was picking on some things, but only the things that James had let slip purposefully. His animosity towards Holmes didn't need hiding, nor did his flippant regard for authority. His claim to innocence seemed to have stemmed from Holmes's assumptions, the over-stimulation from constant interrogation seemingly putting him on guard. She must have assumed also that he was carefully back-tracking to cover something, to hide something. Also done on purpose. The game was no fun if there wasn't any bait.

James stood abruptly and came to lean against his desk, just in front of Detective Athos. He moved her water aside with two fingers and tilted his head to look at her. All the while, the smirk never moved and yet, it never quite reached his eyes. Unlike the detective before him, James knew how to conceal the true emotions playing just below the surface.

"I do enjoy a challenge, that is true. It gets rather boring being a professor day in and day out, and yes, I am good at observation. Call it a hobby," James reached behind him to tap his cigarette before continuing. "I do not mind that you have stopped by, but I do request that you inform me of the next time you'd like to talk,"

Mind racing through recent articles, including ones he pulled just for his class, James realized a rather important fact. Her ex-husband, a former student, had been recently released from his stint in the system. Every week the department of corrections released a list of offenders who were being re-introduced into society and James remembered spotting his name. The man was insufferable, as a student he had practically worshipped the ground James walked on. James couldn't stand the boy then and was sure that he wasn't much better now.

"Your ex-husband has been released from prison recently, correct?" James asked and continued without waiting for her to reply. "I remember having him in class some time ago. He was rather fond of talking about his plans, if you will. There were three robberies that he claimed to be part of that he wasn't charged with,"

[DETECTIVE OLIVIA ATHOS]

Olivia felt as if James was holding a cold blade to her throat. Her jaw tightened, her fingers curled into small fists, and her eyes moved from her notepad to his face slowly as her mind raced. She was drowning, she had to be. She just needed to breathe. But, she couldn’t, every breath got stuck in her throat. She’d felt like this before. That night. That blur. She’d kicked down the door, raced into the apartment, and… sheets… stacks of cash… bundled sheets… naked woman… naked man… black.

She was compromised. Emotional. Distressed. Done for. There was literally no way to recover from this moment, not with grace and confidence. Not with the level of professionalism that was needed to save face and get the job done. Ignorance, it was bliss right? Ignore his comments, start asking questions. What had Holmes said? Oh fuck Holmes! Without him she wouldn’t even be in this mess. All the goading, all that prodding, all the pretense. He was using her. The captain was using her. James was using her. Winter had used her. This was a nightmare.

“Olivia… this isn’t what it looks like…” It may have been the only truthful thing Winter ever said to her. She couldn’t let Edwards into her head and yet he was already there. How had he known? No one knew; Olivia made sure of it. He didn’t even know her name when she stepped into his office. What was it James had said about challenges? He liked them; a hobby? Her thoughts were so scattered, so jumbled, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, needed a drink. Something strong, a shot of whiskey, a swig of bourbon, something, anything. Anger swelled in her chest followed quickly by dread and disgust.

Her lack of sleep wasn’t helping matters. She needed a clear head and she didn’t have it. God, the captain was right she should have taken that week off. First the Ripper Murders, now this? Was she being punished? Hadn’t she been punished enough?

It felt like an eternity but, it had only been the briefest of moments. Olivia unclicked her pen and pursed her lips, deciding that anger was the appropriate response to all this. She couldn’t take it anymore; wouldn’t take it anymore. Everyone wanted something and everyone lied to get it. Now it was Olivia’s turn.

First thing was first, she was nobody’s call girl. "I do not mind that you have stopped by, but I do request that you inform me of the next time you'd like to talk." This was an official police investigation and it was the responsibility of the headquarters to inform its suspects of the arrival of a detective. After all, Detective Athos had wasted a perfectly good day messing around with this shit when she could have been hot on the Ripper’s tail. The way he spoke to her was like she’d arrived out of the blue for a casual conversation. That’s what this was to him. He was twisting everything. She wasn’t here to talk. She was here to work and she couldn’t work if her personal life was hanging in the way. That’s why she didn’t date. Why she had so few friends outside the precinct. Emotions are too dangerous in this line of work. Yet, here she was baggage and all, trying not to burst out into the biggest meltdown of her career in front of a suspected criminal.

She held it together rather well all things considered. Besides that momentary fleeting look in her eye, she’d remained tight jawed and stern as she stared back at him. “What are you suggesting, exactly?” She retorted, not caring if she sounded rude or rash or unprofessional. She was pissed and at this moment she didn’t care if James Edwards knew it or not.

[JAMES MORIARTY EDWARDS]

There we go, Detective Athos was completely unhinged. James wiped the smirk from him face and sat his cigarette down in the ash tray gently and began moving again. In a few great strides, James made his way to an aclove tucked into one of his many bookcases. A flip of the wrist and a simply bar was produced. James took two of his crystal cut tumblers and poured two fingers of high-end scotch in each. Carrying them back over to where Detective Athos sat, James resumed his postion leaning against the desk and held one out for Olivia. It wasn't against univesity policy for professors to keep alcohol in their room, as long as students didn't have access to it. James had the luxury of being the most feared and respected professor on campus made his private office the most secure and almost sacred. No one has set foot in the office without his express invitation and the one boy who did...James pushed that memory away, telling himself to bask in the glory of pushing the hoodlum until he broke down in tears. It had been too easy to do so, the lad was obviously a bit weak minded if James was able to break him with no more than a dark look and a few choice words.

James sipped his scotch and thought of how to phrase his answer. "I am simply offering to do my civic duty," James wasn't asking for a deal and he certainly wasn't bribing the poor girl. Poor, pretty girl. She was quite alluring when she got flustered and angry. James mused very briefly that all people were more attractive when they had the spark of anger and indignation lighting them up from the inside out. "I wasn't fond of him as a student. He was always far too eager to impress, never to please," James tilted his again, the opposite direction this time. He liked this detective a great deal more than Holmes. For one thing, she wasn't nearly as arrogant. Secondly, she was far more attractive than Holmes could ever hope to be (though he did have moments where he looked particularly svelt). Third, she was filled to the bring with volatile emotions that were sweet to behold.

It would be nice to get to know her better.

Again, James pushed the thought aside and instead focused on the task at hand. Calming Olivia, soothing her and perhaps winning her trust. It would be beneficial to have a 'friend' in the department somewhere. James knew it was a long shot, she was far too riled up for it. Blame it o Holmes, blame it on Winter, but James didn't do anything besides point out the obvious. Well, obvious to him at least.

"Do I need to go to the station in order to give this information or can I just give it to you right this moment?"

[DETECTIVE OLIVIA ATHOS]

As if he had read her mind, James Edwards uncovered his secret stash of alcohol and poured two glasses. As he held the glass out to her, Olivia felt her whole body tremble. She could smell the scotch, hear the ice cubes gently clink against the glass, and immediately wished she was any where but here. Every fiber of her being wanted to reject the glass, to tell him that it was against the NYPD’s policies, to say something witty and snappy and brave. Instead, her hand gravitated toward it, cradling it between her fingers, feeling the warm liquid grow colder. Her mouth felt dry and it craved the amber scotch. Olivia didn’t sip it, although she really wanted to, but rather rested the bottle of the glass on her leg and stared back at James.

“civic duty” Olivia wanted so much to laugh, take a nice swig of the scotch, and purse her lips into one of those knowing smiles she was so fond of. Unfortunately, this wasn’t a social event and drinking was out of the question. Detective Athos, her green eyes ablaze with curiosity, liked the way he had phrased his answer. It was careful, concise, not incriminating. Holmes was right, James was a different breed. He was enigmatic, unyielding, and cunning, most importantly cunning. Olivia was attracted to strong males; men of authority who had a firm grasp on what they wanted and weren’t afraid to go get it. Hell, it was why she loved law enforcement so much. Both cops and criminals alike were head-strong; you had to be. Everyday was a battle; a challenge; an adventure. James was just that. He was incredibly intelligent, incredibly adept, incredibly… incredible.

He was three steps ahead while Olivia was still six behind. There was something in those cold, calculating eyes that told her he knew something he’d never tell. The way he leaned against that desk, sipping from his glass and tapping his cigarette on the corner of the ash tray; he was impenetrable. But, strangely honest. Everything he said was completely true; his feelings on Holmes, his thoughts about Winter, even. He was withholding information, that was to be sure, but you couldn’t call him a liar. Except, perhaps about his innocence. Olivia was certain there was more to James Edwards than he led on, especially concerning his extracurricular activities.

It always amazed Olivia how little she knew about her ex. She knew him as the suave, eco-conscious man who had captivated her young heart. It was disconcerting to have that façade shattered over and over again. He’d played her; lied to her. How many years were they together? Too many. And yet, it appeared that Professor Edwards had a better grasp of Winter than she did.

Her body ached for just one taste of the amber liquid swirling around the glass.

Placing the glass on the table beside the water bottle, Olivia glanced back at James biting the inside of her lip as she sometimes did while she was thinking. She was about to inform Professor James Edwards that he should call the station or stop by to file a report. After all, Olivia wasn’t officially on the Winter case and it would be far more professional to handle it this way. Don’t seem eager, she told herself. Eagerness is weakness. Her phone vibrated in her pocket and her heart sank a little when she noticed the caller ID. “Would you excuse me for just a moment?” she stood up, leaving her jacket and bag in his office. Olivia stepped out into the hall her fingers fumbling to shut the door. Too concerned with the phone call, she failed to close it all the way.

“Athos.” she answered. Pacing along the hallway, Olivia listened to the brisk voice of her captain. “This weekend? Well, I’m driving out to Connecticut tomorrow.” pause. “Why? Because you said you’d suspend me if I didn’t start using up my vacation days.” pause. “Of course I can take a joke Captain.” pause. Exhale. “Everything’s checking out, sir. Eccentric, yes. Although, bastard may be crossing some line. No. Wouldn’t say that about Holmes, sir.” she leaned up against the wall, “What?” her heart stopped. She could feel her knees shaking. “And you’re sure? The same markings on the lock? How about the explosives used?” she pushed off the wall. “Sir, I’ve memorized this case. No, I’m not too close”.

Olivia wanted that scotch more than anything right now. A bank had been robbed not twenty minutes ago, locks jimmied from the back door, explosives set on the front entryway, and a note. A note just for Olivia. Hanging up with the Captain, Detective Athos didn’t much care about precinct politics. She reentered the Professor’s office, her lips pursed, a deep frown burrowing her eyebrows, and a new conviction bursting in her veins.
“Tell me what you know.”