"Sir, he wants to talk to you."
"Hello… Yes… Hmm… Yes, well unfortunately he's not interested… No, he's not in the market… Ahahaha, I see… Come on, even you've got to admit that's just childish… Oh, of course I do… Till then!"
"What was that about?"
"Please tell me you're going to change into something nicer for when he gets here."
"We'll see."
"Where do you want me to put these, Sir?"
"Somewhere where I'll find them. You know, I really don't appreciate you moving everything around."
"It's called tidying, Sir."
"Well stop, you're being an utter nuisance."
"You can't have an employee thinking you live like this, you have an image to upkeep."
"May I remind you that it was you who decided he should come here, and upon making that decision you knew fully well how I live."
"Well it's your fault his flat got blown up so you should deal with the consequences, Sir. And anyway I assumed you'd straighten this place up a bit."
"How was I supposed to know Hughes would go through with his threat?"
Sebastian yawned, setting his coffee down on the table and pulling a book out of his rucksack. It was one of those post-mission moments when Moriarty hadn't yet contacted him as it was far too early in the morning so he had a little while to himself to just sit and enjoy a cup of coffee like a normal human being before going to sleep for the next three days straight. He'd been up for the most part of the past 57 hours and his body begged him to go home and crawl into bed, however he chose instead to slouch in this wobbly plastic chair and watch the world go by. He liked taking his time whenever he had the chance to do so, taking great pleasure from all the little moments that most people took for granted. He liked watching them bustle about, complaining about the early start to the day, moaning about the weather, and whining about how Friday felt so far away.
Starbucks. Not a very unique choice but at least it was fairly quiet this morning. He'd picked up a book at the train station in Bristol but fallen asleep on the train without even opening it. So now he treated himself to a coffee with a very imaginative name and book that everybody was talking about but didn't live up to the hype. He sipped his coffee, making the most of this rare opportunity to indulge in such a mundane luxury.
Sebastian opened the book at Chapter One and made it all the way to page nine before his phone loudly reminded him that really he couldn't afford to sit around pretending to lead a normal life.
-There was an explosion at your flat while you were away. You'll be staying with me (in the guest room of course, don't get any ideas) until we find you a new place – JM xx
Oh. Sebastian wasn't sure how he was supposed to react to something like that. It was completely out of the blue and he was far too exhausted to care. In all honesty he wasn't that fussed; he didn't own the place, nor was he particularly attached to it. Moriarty arranged accommodation for all his men so he didn't even have to pay the rent. Even so, he wasn't too keen on the idea of staying in Moriarty's house and being put under a magnifying glass. Having his boss know all his bad habits could hardly be a good thing, and he didn't feel comfortable with idea of having to play the role of obedient employee 24/7. He could very easily lose his job as a result of this.
It was moments like this that left Sebastian feeling jealous of everyone who had a family. This was definitely one of the downsides to being an only child; since his parents had disowned him after his dishonourable discharge he had no one to turn to in moments of need. Well, that's pretty much how he wound up with this job in the first place. Sebastian briefly considered calling up an ex-girlfriend and rekindling a relationship with her in order to have a place to stay, but upon remembering her obsession with dieting and healthy eating he decided against it. He did not want to go through the whole cabbage and grapefruit thing again. Why couldn't he just bunk with one of the other men for a bit? Then again if they all lived in studio flats like he had it might get a bit crowded. But why did he have to move in with his boss? Was there really no alternative?
Suddenly his book didn't seem so interesting anymore and he proceeded to check his e-mail. Sure enough he had one unread message from Sophie, a woman who acted as Moriarty's mock secretary when she wasn't busy running the UK's shadiest adoption agency and raising her own two kids.
From: Sophie Ashfordly
To: Sebastian Moran
Subject: Living Arrangements
Date: 23 September 23:42
Dear Sebastian Moran,
I regret to inform you that an unfortunate incident has taken place at your property in White City. I assure you that we are searching for a new apartment for you; however in the mean time you have been offered temporary accommodation at Mr Moriarty's premises where you may reside until further notice. We hope you are satisfied with this arrangement, however if you have any questions or complaints these will be dealt with upon your arrival at your new address. Please contact me when you return to London and I shall send a car to collect you.
With kind regards,
Sophie Ashfordly
On behalf of James Moriarty
Bloody fantastic. He'd half been hoping it was some sort of joke. But no. Sebastian leaned back in his chair, exasperated and too tired to be thinking about these things. He turned back to his phone and began half-heartedly jabbing the touchscreen with his calloused fingers.
From: Sebastian Moran
To: Sophie Ashfordly
Subject: RE: Living Arrangements
Date: 24 September 07:24
Am at Paddington station.
Seb
The reply came before he even had time to sip his fancy coffee. Sophie had always been extremely helpful; ever ready to offer the men advice to guide them through their complicated assignments, even going so far as to arrange medical care whenever someone got themselves badly injured during a mission. He found it rather strange that such a kind woman worked for Moriarty, although she was very efficient.
From: Sophie Ashfordly
To: Sebastian Moran
Subject: RE: RE: Living Arrangements
Date: 24 September 07:25
Stay put, I'll have someone come and pick you up.
Sophie
Fifteen minutes later a smartly dressed man sat down opposite Sebastian greeting him with a subtle nod. Sebastian recognised him; they'd been on a few assignments together and once shared a taxi to Islington when a mission went awry and their target slipped through their fingers resulting in a ridiculously slow chase across the city during rush hour. They walked out of the station and into the car park where a black plain-looking car was waiting for them. Sebastian sat in the back with his colleague and the vehicle smoothly pulled away.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed when his friend nudged him to wake him up as the car slowed to a halt and dropping him off along a relatively quiet road. He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but it definitely wasn't this ordinary street. Everybody knew Moriarty wasn't in it for the money but surely he could've chosen somewhere grander to live. There was nothing all that distinguishable about the place besides the fact that it looked a little grotty and neglected. He glanced down at his phone, checking the address and walked cautiously over to a tall shabby building. He glanced at the list of names by the door not even bothering to check it. Moriarty wouldn't have his name scrawled outside his house.
Suddenly the door buzzed.
He pushed it open, his phone vibrating against his thigh as he did so.
-Fifth floor – JM
The walls of the entrance were a harsh white giving off a very unwelcoming vibe. He still had a hard time imagining Moriarty, the belligerent crime-lord, living here. He'd always imagined his boss living in an extravagant, over-the-top, mansion hidden in plain sight in the heart of London, right under the government's nose; not here in such an ordinary flat, it seemed far too plain and really didn't go along with Moriarty's image. Sebastian found himself wondering whether Moriarty paid taxes.
The lift doors smoothly opened at the fifth floor revealing his Boss. He stood, leaning against the wall in a two thousand pound suit. Sebastian did his best to remain composed, giving a quick nod and mumbling an uncertain "Sir" before stepping out of the lift.
"Sebastian! Glad you could make it. Terribly sorry about your flat." Moriarty exclaimed, as he ushered the sniper towards an open door near the lift.
"Sorry, Sir, there was a lot of traffic." He explained meekly, feeling very awkward as he entered the flat. It looked alright; dimly lit, cold, pale walls, white leather and dark wood furniture. But it seemed too organised to house such a chaotic man. Strange art hung on the walls; the kinds of paintings that make you want to kill a kitten and then drown yourself in melted plastic. The furniture all looked terribly expensive and out of place, standing proud on a carpet that looked far from its original colour whatever that may have been.
"Make yourself at home! Your room is just down that corridor." Moriarty said gesturing towards a white door that stood ajar and scratching the back of his head. "This is the living room, kitchen is through there, bathroom's over there, and that's my room." He concluded. So this wasn't even a very big apartment? Just your average two-bedroom flat? Sebastian stiffly walked over to his designated room, nudging the door further into the bleak looking bedroom. A wrought iron bed was set in the middle of the floor at the foot of which sat a large wooden chest. A heavy-looking wardrobe leant against the wall, and a desk sat below the window which looked over a narrow alleyway. He wondered why Moriarty had a guest room; did he have people round often? His exhaustion was catching up with him once again and the bed looked incredibly inviting.
However, he ignored the calling of the bed and returned to the living room to find Moriarty sprawled across the leather settee flicking through the channels on his flat screen TV. Despite looking so normal, just a guy at home watching telly, it seemed so unnatural for Moriarty to be like that.
"Sir?"
"Yes, pet?" His boss asked. Evidently whatever Sebastian had to say did not require Moriarty's full attention as he continued to switch from channel to channel without looking up,
"Er… what would you like me to do, Sir?" He asked awkwardly, feeling nine years old like a school boy at the headmaster's office.
"Well, what do you usually do after a mission?"
"Usually I sleep for a bit, Sir." He felt like a complete idiot.
"Well then sleep." Moriarty said, dismissing him with a wave of the remote,
"Yes. Thank you, Sir." He said, taking his leave.
"Oh before you go," Sebastian stopped in his tracks and turned to face his boss, "I was thinking of ordering Chinese tonight. Or would you prefer Indian?" Moriarty asked, his eyes now focused on the sniper, a bland expression upon his face.
"Chinese is fine, Sir." He said, a smile tugging at his lips.
