Jim Moriarty didn't have friends. He didn't know how to make them. No one knew much about him, but he knew everything about everyone else. Except one person. The girl in the window.
Jim's parents lived in one of those town houses, with two houses on the one property. The second house had always been empty, as long as Jim could remember. Until one day.
"Mummy, who lives there?" A small chestnut haired girl pointed to the first house.
"Oh, that's the Moriarty family, Irene. Your father is friends' with their father, which is why we are living here. Got a deal on the rent."
"How long are we staying here?" She asked, looking up at her mother as they walked up the driveway. "I don't want to move again." Irene sulked. But suddenly, she stopped and looked up. A small dark haired boy was staring at her through one of the bedroom windows. The two children stared at each other until Irene was inside her new home. Jim frowned with interest; he wasn't familiar with the company of another person, let alone a girl. He decided to stay away from her. It was for the best.
Jim stepped down from his ladder, which helped him see out the window, as his ten-year-old legs did not allow him so. His room was tidy, too tidy for a boy his age. Jim liked cleanliness and order, which was why he found the company of other young boys uncomfortable. He suddenly walked over to his second window, which instead of facing the neighbour's house like his first one, faced the small second bedroom of the second house. The girl from before was sitting on the stripped bed with a sulky look on her face. Jim frowned again. He hoped that their parents did not attempt to befriend him, as he hated whiny girls. He titled his head.
Irene snapped her head up and looked out the window. She instantly saw the boy from before.
Jim's eyes widened as he realised the girl saw him. He froze, not really knowing what to do. But the girl disappeared as quickly as she saw him. Jim relaxed.
Irene returned to the window with a black marker and whiteboard. She saw the boy looking a little annoyed. She smiled and wrote something on the board.
Jim peered with interest at the girl. She held up the board, which said in neat writing, "Hello." Jim didn't do anything in reply. The girl frowned and wrote again. "My name is Irene Elizabeth Adler. What is yours?" Still he did not reply. The girl named Irene scratched her head in thought and rubbed the board.
"Are you funny? Can you write?" Irene smiled as she showed the boy her writing.
Jim pouted as he realised the girl was asking if he was stupid. He was anything but! He decided to react and fished around for a pen and paper. He scribbled on the A3 paper and showed the girl. "I am not. I am brilliant."
Irene smiled happily and wrote again. "Does your brilliance have a name?" She cheekily wrote and grinned.
Jim frowned but smiled inside at the girl's humour. "Jim." was all he wrote. The girl smiled in reply but also wrote something.
"That's a nice name, Jim. Do you want to talk?" She wrote, hopeful.
Jim was taken aback. When he didn't reply Irene wrote again.
"You must be running out of paper. Judging by the amount you picked up, you should have one left." She smirked.
Jim was surprised and clenched the single sheet of A3 paper left. How did she know? She mustn't be stupid like everyone else. She must be like me, he thought. Jim wrote on his last sheet. "Judging by the amount of makeup your mother is wearing, she will be having dinner at a fancy restaurant tonight which will result in you leaving. I will await your message tomorrow." Even Jim was surprised he'd fit it all on the paper.
Irene opened her mouth in amazement and at the same moment her mother walked in, make up all over her face telling her that they were eating out. Irene took one last look at the boy and waved.
Jim swallowed and gave a brisk and awkward wave at the girl in the window.