Call me Jim. Jim Moriarty.
How astoundingly boring this world is!
If there is nothing to entertain me, though, it seems as if I must make my own fun.
“You’re just a coward.” Johns lips twitched with a mordant intent; “Hiding behind your bloody snipers, behind everyone your disgusting fingers can wrap themselves around. And here you are, acting like you can actually rule the world. Step right down your high-horse, just take me on yourself— and you can bet your sorry ass I can end you.”
Endless pants of irritation dared to make itself notable, his teeth dug deep into the lower fold of tissue. He knew he didn’t have a choice. He knew he had to cooperate with this bastard whether he liked it or not. Only Moriarty himself, knew exactly how many marksmen were planted around their appointed location.
“What…. do you…. want?” John said slowly, muttered gallingly, breathing revoltingly.
Jim sighed. “I’m a tad disappointed in you, doctor,” he stated derisively, observing him with cat-like eyes. “I would’ve thought that you of all people would know the difference between cowardice and careful planning.”
“You, end me? Oh, sorry, was it not obvious that we could reenact the pool incident without ‘Staying Alive?’” he asked, smiling coyly. He swiftly changed his expression into a mocking caricature of shock as he continued to watch the other man’s expressions.
How human, how absolutely banal! What a lovely, loyal, boring pet Sherlock Holmes had in his possession!
“Oh, I do mean no harm!” he added with a gleeful shine in his eyes, slowly inching closer to the ex-army doctor and clapping a hand on his arm (the bad one, simply because he could, how spectacular!).
“I just want to have some fun,” Jim explained, pouting like a child. He walked a few steps away from the doctor and crossed his arms, huffing indignantly. Really, he thought to himself as he watched the doctor, how absolutely dull. Why did Sherlock like playing with such a boring human when they could play together?
“Tell me, Johnny-boy, do you like explosives?”
Now, what on Earth could this man possibly want.
Another hapless attempt in violent kidnapping. After all, what was he of use to Moriarty besides reeling in the great Sherlock Holmes himself. A detrimental blow to his pride.
Rolling uninterested eyes, Watson advanced in steps, irritatingly mind you, for hearing such a provoking voice urk his very soul. It was obvious, apparent that he intensely disliked the highly dressed gentleman. Or was he even human to begin with—
Look at him now; once badgering his flatmate on the none-realistic term of a mortal enemy. Ironic, perhaps.
The doctor froze in his tracks.
“Another show to get on the— what is that suppose to mean?” asked Watson; demanding a quick answer. That bloody sarcastic smile, oh how he wish he were able to take him down right then and there. Such a sneaky character. “Moriarty, I swear, I will— I will end you if you pull another….”John couldn’t find it in himself— unable to finish what he wanted to say. Many innocent fragile lives— running around, trying to protect them.
“‘End me’?” Jim repeated, a peal of laughter bursting from his mouth. “Oh, Johnny boy, you couldn’t end me if you tried.”
He shrugged nonchalantly and watched the man in front of him. “John, my dear,” he sighed, “you seem to forget who I am.” Jim sighed again as he swept his hands over the soft surface of his coat.
“I can blend in anywhere.”
He rolled his eyes good-naturedly.
“This is the middle of the afternoon, on a busy street in London. What can you possibly do to me at this current moment in time?”
Jim smirked.
“Surprise me.”
“Oh, what a pleasant surprise,” Moriarty said, a grin slowly spreading across his face. “Mr. Watson!”
Jim smoothed out the nonexistent wrinkles in his coat and sighed pleasantly, slowly walking towards the ex-army doctor. “It has been a while, hasn’t it?” He closed his eyes, the grin never leaving his mouth. “It has proved to be a short time for me, though,” he added, shaking his head slightly.
The sun seemed too bright for him. Although the grimaces on the faces of passerby entertained him, it was a fleeting source of fun at most: he needed something to happen with a boom, preferably in the literal sense, after all.
“How have you fared, Mr. Watson? Oh, but I shouldn’t ask you that: I am a constant follower of your blog, after all,” Moriarty stated, a mocking gleam in his eyes.
Each word floating out of that man’s mouth…
Each flickering blinks his dim eyes batted; made his heart race quickly.
The sudden faux feeling of wires tightening against his very body, mimicked his mind— the sheer minutes of terror he withstood during their last meeting.
Such experience reminded him of the war— something he wanted to leave behind; yet the sheer taste of adrenaline the doctor hid, called out for more.
Now this was a different case scenario. Jim Moriarty, walking amongst the bustling street of London. Knowing such a cheeky-agitating character, John couldn’t help but feel there was some sort of danger constituted nearby.
Perhaps paranoia was taking it’s toll— but who could blame the doctor. Really.
“My blog?” repeated Watson. A sarcastic chuckle rolled out of his throat.
“I’m doing peachy— I’m hoping that’s it, I’m busy at the moment.”
“That’s nice to hear,” Moriarty replied, purposely ignoring the chuckle. “Busy, you say?”
Jim shrugged carelessly, fingering the smooth screen of his phone as he watched the man closely. There was a slight tremor in his body, which indicated fear or irritation. Knowing how temperamental the man was the last time he had seen him, it was possibly a combination of both. Not that it mattered, though-even if Mr. Watson (or was it Dr. Watson?) was either one of those emotions, he wouldn’t last long against him in the first place. Especially not in public.
Ha, a voice barked derisively in his mind as he watched Watson with careless interest, there really are no others that can come against me. A pity.
“There’s nothing interesting for me in the least,” Jim said, sighing dramatically as he took his hands out of his coat pockets and crossed his arms. “London’s been so bloody boring lately, don’t you think?”
He smirked sardonically. “I think it’s high time for another show to get on the road.”
obviouslymoriarty started following you.
Such a blurred figure crossed his eyes; unable to fully piece together whom the man standing before him was. Like a ghostly mirage, taunting his mind in such a irritatingly cruel manner.
John Watson grunted angrily as he slowly unveiled the foggy clue—
“Moriarty.”
Never would he imagine such a simple name could possibly hold such an intense power to enrage the ex-army doctor.
“Oh, what a pleasant surprise,” Moriarty said, a grin slowly spreading across his face. “Mr. Watson!”
Jim smoothed out the nonexistent wrinkles in his coat and sighed pleasantly, slowly walking towards the ex-army doctor. “It has been a while, hasn’t it?” He closed his eyes, the grin never leaving his mouth. “It has proved to be a short time for me, though,” he added, shaking his head slightly.
The sun seemed too bright for him. Although the grimaces on the faces of passerby entertained him, it was a fleeting source of fun at most: he needed something to happen with a boom, preferably in the literal sense, after all.
“How have you fared, Mr. Watson? Oh, but I shouldn’t ask you that: I am a constant follower of your blog, after all,” Moriarty stated, a mocking gleam in his eyes.
