Not beta'd yet. All mistakes mine. No copyright infringements intended.
James Moriarty silently picked the lock on the door of a place he swore to himself he would never visit again. Soundlessly he made his way to the bedroom he was searching for, not surprised to find the door open. His face was stoic as he took in the clean smells of the room. His eyes took in every detail as he strode across the floor coming to a stop by the bed. New wood gleamed in the soft light filling the room.
He wasn't prepared for the peaceful look on the porcelain face. The inky black hair brought about a feeling in his chest it took him only a split second to place. Moriarty stood still as the quiet; watching, cataloging, ingraining every detail to his brain. Time seem to come to a stand still and his world was quiet as he stared at the face he could only describe as beautiful.
Moriarty wasn't keeping track of how much time passed. Now that he was at this point nothing else mattered, nothing else could tear his attention away. The consulting criminal's world would wait. Years of planning, his whole life outlined and set in stone. Organized chaos on a level hardly anyone else could understand to keep his over active brain from exploding. For every thing he ever wanted, not a single thought or idea or act had prepared him for this.
A soft murmur broke the silence and a pale hand came up to rub at closed eyes. A body slowly wiggled. A face scrunched up as if sensing the man standing over him. Moriarty peered over his shoulder to see another body not quiet awakened by the sounds beginning to fill the room.
Moriarty wasn't ready for his peaceful moment to end, so he did something he had never done before. He reached down into the crib and pulled the baby up, cradling him gently against his chest. Words filled his mind he hadn't heard in years and fell off his tongue in a silken brogue.
"Óho óho óho mo leana, Óho mo leana ina chodladh gan brón." The baby's brows furrowed at the foreign tongue. "Ar mhullach an tí tá síógí geala, Faoi chaoin-ré an earraigh ag imirt 's ag ól, Is seo hiad aniar iad a' glaoch ar mo leana, Le súil is a mhealladh isteach sa lios mór. A leana mo chléibh go n-éirí do chodlaigh leat,
Séan agus sonas gach oíche i do chómhair.. Tá mise le do thaobh a' gui ort na mbeannacht,
Seoithín mo leana is ní imeoidh tú leo." The infant calmed and found his thumb to suckle. Moriarty stared down a such a tiny, delicate body and continued with the lullaby from his own boyhood days. "Óho óho óho mo leana, Óho mo leana agus codail go fóill. Óho óho óho mo leana, Óho mo leana ina chodladh gan brón."
Once he stopped singing the baby began to fidget again so he fell into the song again hoping not to wake the baby's mother. As long as his crooned the gentle words into the dark, the baby rested snuggled against him. He didn't have to even glance around to know that this baby was breast fed. His little thumb would only do for a few minutes.
"I suppose we have to wake your mam grah mo chree." Moriarty sighed turning around to face the bed. "Shall I serenade her, too?"
The infant gurgled and tugged at his suit jacket.
"In Dublin's fair city, where the girls are so pretty
I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone
As she wheeled her wheelbarrow through streets broad and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels alive a-live O!" Moriarty raised his voice a bit louder.
"A-live a-live O! A-live a-live O!
Crying cockles and mussels alive a-live O! " He whispered against a soft forehead while gently swaying the baby.
"She was a fishmonger and sure it was no wonder
For so were her father and mother before
And they both wheeled their barrows through streets broad and narrow
Crying cockles and mussels alive a-live O! " He continued as covers rustled.
"A-live a-live O! A-live a-live O!
Crying cockles and mussels alive a-live O! " Toby leaped off the bed as his mistress' legs stretched out and she attempting to kick the duvet down.
She sat up slowly and rubbed her hands down her face, not quiet in the awake realm yet.
"Mummy's coming, love." She murmured, stretching and yawning. Bringing her arms back down she opened her chocolate brown eyes which were growing wider as her brain comprehended the stunning Irish man in Westwood holding her son. Their son.
"J-jim?" She wasn't even sure if she was awake. The baby wasn't crying, which is what normally woke her.
"Hello, Molly." He gave her a wolf grin.
"How... You're alive? How?" She stumbled off the bed wanting to hold her baby.
"That's a fairy tale for another day, love. Right now you have more pressing manners to attend to. Such as feeding my son." He spoke softly and handed the baby to her keeping his arms under him in case Molly gave out in shock.
Molly still looked at him as if he wasn't real and he coaxed her down onto the bed. She slid down one side of her camisole and offered the baby her breast. Moriarty watched in wild fascination as his son latched on and drank greedily. He would have to teach him patience.
"Motherhood looks good on you Mollykins." Moriarty ran a finger down the side of her face. "It's not something I would have ever thought I would contribute to. It's rather nice to be surprised."
"Are you here to kill me?" She brought her eyes up and gulped.
"Never."
"Then what are you here for?" She settled a little back into a pillow and watched the psychopath resting next to her.
"I only came to see you, to watch you for a little while." He admitted honestly. "Imagine my surprise upon arriving to find you weren't alone." He raised his eyebrows and smiled widely at her.
"I didn't plan for this to happen-" she started before he cut her off.
"Neither did I."
"I can't believe you're alive." She spoke while she switched sides with the baby.
"I don't see how that's such a surprise since Sherly is alive and in thanks to you."
Molly tensed and shrank back.
"Don't be nervous, love. I'd never hurt you." And he meant what he said. Moriarty had never even entertained the idea of fathering a child. He'd been so careful in every action he took for every moment of his life. Clearly, he has slipped up once.
"What's his name?"
"Michael James Hooper." She said slowly watching for his reaction. She couldn't put Moriarty on his birth certificate, but she could still give him a namesake for his father.
"Michael was your father's name. I like it. James is of course the best name. However, his surname will need to be changed immediately." Moriarty tapped his fingers along the boy's feet as he spoke.
"Don't! You'll give him a stutter." Molly pushed his hand away.
"Poppycock!" He said but sat back.
"Why do you want to change his name? No one knows he's yours. He has a quiet life and you have more enemies than I can imagine."
"I have few enemies. They don't live long. He has a quiet, boring life with his mum in a this little crap hole. He is my heir, and you as his mother are my queen. Pack up Molly, I'm taking you to the palace."
"What?" Molly began to panic. She loved her job and her tiny flat and her life.
"My son will have nothing but the best. You as well. I will be in his life and there will be no more kiddy care or leaving him with old Mrs. Hudson hopped up on herbal soothers." Moriarty didn't even look at her as he tapped away on his phone. "I'm transferring money to your account. You never have to work another day in your life, love."
"I love my job, Jim." Molly pulled her top back up and snuggled her sleeping infant.
"Then I'll have Michael," he rolled his eyes. "You should cut back to part time. As a consulting criminal I have a very busy workday."
"You're insane." Molly whispered not wanting to wake the baby.
"You're just getting that now?" He grinned wickedly. He laughed softly and popped a kiss on the corner of her mouth before dropping a softer one on his son's crown. He stood up adjusting his jacket and winked before disappearing out the door.
Molly didn't get up. She knew he was gone and she hadn't even heard the door. Only two people in the world could move so silently in and out of her place. She chewed her lip and let the soft snores of Michael lull her nerves. After a few minutes she knew the baby was in a deep enough sleep to put him in his crib. She whispered sweet words and smoothed his hair back before falling into her bed and letting sleep claim her.
Molly woke a few hours later to her sons cries. She sat up pushing her hair back wondering if she had only dreamed up her late night visitor, but the thick envelope on the nightstand told her otherwise.
She picked up Michael and situated him on her breast before cooing to him and opening the envelope one handed. Thick stacks of cash fell out along with a black credit card, a passport, and a driver's license. She thumbed them over smiling at the name. Molly Malone.
She pushed the items aside and picked up the note in the middle. She opened it and read the beautiful script softly to her son.
Swell job grah mo chree, he's beautiful.
Molly didn't know the Irish, but made note to ask him if she saw him again.
Her phone beeped. She switched sides with Michael and picked it up checking her texts.
I'll be back soon, Mollykins. You can contact me at any time on this number.
It was quickly followed buy two more messages.
I prefer to surprise everyone my own way so let's not speak of the villain just yet, love.
Give my son my love.
* grah mo chree is "sweetheart".
Translation for the lullaby, Seoithin Seo;
Oh, my child,
oh my child asleep without any care
On the roof of the house there are bright fairies,
playing and drinking under the gentle rays of the spring moon;
here they come, to call my child out,
wishing to draw him into the the fairy mound.
My child, my heart, sleep soundly and well;
may good luck and happiness forever be yours;
I'm here at your side praying blessings upon you;
Hushaby, hush, you're not going with them.
Oh, my child,
oh my child still asleep
Oh, my child,
oh my child asleep without any care