It was Christmas night when Jim Moriarty walked down the familiar Soho streets to the dimly lit shop front. In one hand he had a bottle of wine. He gripped the door handle it was sticky. He gave it a twist and there was jingle. As he stepped inside the bookshop he noted that it smelled like mildew and oddly badgers.
There was a shout from the back: "GO AWAY! WE'RE CLOSED IT'S CHRISTMAS FOR GOD'S SAKE!"
"Bernard," Jim called out in a singsong voice. "It's me your brother. I come here every christmas."
"Oh! Yes! Jim!" Bernard came out of the back room.
They stood for minute staring at each other. Then awkwardly hugged.
"Let me look at you!" Bernard demanded. "New suit. flash bastard."
"You look the same," said Jim. "I brought wine."
"Fantastic!" Bernard said and ran off into the back room to get glasses and the chair.
The chair was wooden, with gray cushions it was also covered in plastic. Apparently Bernard never let anyone sit in his 'brother's' chair.
Jim uncorked the wine and poured out two glasses. Bernard drank eagerly.
"This is brilliant wine," Said Bernard. "You always bring the best."
"Only the best for Mam's boys." Jim said. "How is she?"
And took a sip.
"Oh," Bernard made a flailing gesture. "You know, she's... she's..."
"a manipulative bitch who's never pleased?" Offered Jim.
Bernard and Jim smiled.
"She's that. But she's well Mam." Said Bernard. "She asked about you."
"She always does." Jim sighed and rolled his eyes.
"Wonders why you don't call," said Bernard.
"Because I'm busy, I have business," said Jim.
As far Jim's family knew he was a business man, soon they'd know otherwise. He wonder how Bernard would take it. He felt bad about lying to his older brother. But he had to protect Bernard, as Bernard had done for him growing up. Being a smart, small, mouthy kid he was bully bait. It was good to have an older brother to take of him. More then just bullies really, Mam's boys against the world. Then he learned to take care of himself.
"You work to hard," Bernard said.
"You don't work at all," said Jim.
And they drank more, hours passed.
"Did you ever finish that novel?" Jim said, staring at the bottom of his now empty third glass. "It was brill,"
"Naw, it was crap." said Bernard. "I burnt it. Mam always said my work was to... complex...that nobody would get it."
"If you ever finish one, and don't burn it. I know a guy who'll publish it." said Jim.
"No, it's all crap," said Bernard with a sigh.
"It's not, it's just what Mam told you," said Jim.
"And she's a genius," said Bernard.
Jim rolled his eyes. "So am I, so are you."
Bernard fiddled with his hair and waved his hand, he lit a cigarette. "This is depressing, let's have more wine."
So they drank more and more and talked. Bernard did most of it, telling his younger half-brother about Manny and Fran (both of whom were with their families). Jim couldn't say much of anything. Soon they got back to talking of old times.
"...It was your idea!" Bernard exclaimed.
"No! It was your idea!" Jim insisted waving half a glass of wine.
"We'll we shouldn't have done it." said Bernard. "As if Mam and your Da wouldn't notice that we'd snuck in the kitchen and eaten all the christmas puddings!"
"I remember you trying to say that rats ate them," Jim said.
"Mam didn't buy it." Bernard sighed. "Remember what she did?"
There was a pause.
"Yeah," said Jim. "She took all our presents and burnt them in the back garden."
"In front of us," said Bernard. "You think we deserved it?
"Maybe, Mam always has a way of making you think it's always your fault." Jim said.
Which is part of the reason I can't put a hit on her. Jim thought.
They drank more, at one point they were arm in arm singing an old Irish drinking song. Then they collapsed laughing. In the back of his head, Jim knew that the hangover would be a bitch.
"I love you brother," He said to Bernard. "You always took care of me, even when other people dint"
"No no, I love you," said Bernard. "Look at you, you're a success. You're so rich you bought me a bloody shop! But you know... you need to relax more... you never do anything for fun."
"Oh I have my fun." said Jim and smiled slyly.
"No, you don't," Bernard said. "You just work, work, work, work. I never see you!"
"Well we have christmas don't we?" said Jim.
"Yeah," Bernard admitted.
They were both laying drapped over the desk, utterly drunk and silly.
"I never knew my real Da," Bernard said. "Mam told me he was a tosser, but she thought that about everyone. What happened to your Da? Mam said he had a heart attack."
"Naw," said Jim. "He off'd himself. In the car with gas."
And they began laughing uproariously, a sort of cackling howl that bounced off the walls.
"Good riddens, he was a bloody wanker." said Bernard.
"..and a pedo!" said Jim. "You know he did that because he got one his students pregnant? She was only 13."
And they laughed again.
"I never liked him," said Bernard. "He kicked me out of the house."
"He was dumb and sooooo weak," said Jim.
Bernard began to snore gently. Jim got up, he stumbled to the door. The bell dinged and Bernard raised his head.
"See you next year," He called.
"Maybe," said Jim with a smirk. "I'm awfully busy this year."
"Wanker," said Bernard.
And that was the last time Bernard Black saw his half brother Jim Moriarty alive. In the coming year the papers would reveal the truth and everyone even him would find out. In the coming year Jim Moriarty would blow his brains out on top of St. Bart's.