AUTHOR NOTE: Hello! New chapter, yay! This story will be a bit different. I've written this story in the first person, how Becky experienced this strange happening. The story is based on some things that happened in 'The Office Job' of the tv-show Leverage. Believe it or not, I wrote more than a thousand words about a sandwich! *proud* There will be an epilogue up soon! Also, review review review!


7:00

Beep, beep, beep.

"... not yet... Five more minutes."

Snooze.

7:29
Beep, beep, beep

"Shit!"


It was an early morning, and when I found out I slept in (again), I almost praised the gods for I had made some sandwiches the day before. It had taken some effort, but I'd do anything for a good lunch.

After grabbing the clothes I had laid out and packed my bag, Iran downstairs and towards the fridge. There was no sign of Jim, but he was probably still asleep.

I opened the fridge, and got a bottle of water out first. But when I wanted to grab the sandwich, I found out it wasn't there.

Where did it go? In my opinion there was only one logical explanation. Jim had taken the sandwich.

"Jim! You idiot, wake up and get over here!"

Nothing.

What time was it again?

7:47

Darn it.

I decided this wasn't worth it, and left without my sandwich, figuring I'd just take some time to buy food.


Beep, beep.

Mobile phone, 1 new message. Timestamp 10:22
You woke me up with your yelling, but I couldn't be bothered to go downstairs. What was it? -JM

That idiot.

New message - Jim the fish
Don't you know? Someone stole my sandwich, and the only person who had means, motive an opportunity is you!

Send.

Beep, beep.

Another message.

Come on, Becky. Do you honestly think I'd steal something as simple as a sandwich? You probably ate it yourself and forgot about it. -JM

So, that sandwich was forgettable? I made my own tuna salad from fresh ingredients, including some home-made mayonnaise, seasoned it with salt and pepper. I put that on a freshly baked bread roll with a bit of lettuce. That's forgettable? I don't think so.


When I returned home, Jim was sitting... No wait, laying on the couch. He seemed to be asleep, so I silently walked over to the kitchen and opened the box of Jim's chocolate cookies, the cookies that I should at all times stay away from. Silently, I grabbed a cookie and closed the box. With the cookie already in my mouth (no wonder Jim never let me touch these, this is delicious!) I turned around, only to get a minor heart attack. Jim was already in front of me, a scary look on his face.

"What. Were. You. Doing?" he asks, his voice dangerously low. I wanted to run away, the man was unpredictable, but I needed to win this battle. I was going to make him confess. I picked myself up, and faked a look of confusion.

"Oh... So these are the cookies you told me about? Sorry, I thought you weren't going to eat these."

This was a dangerous game to play, and I knew that damn well. But I couldn't quite forgive him for stealing that sandwich yet. Moriarty was his usual calm self, not showing any emotion. And it scared me to death.

After another minute of something which had turned into a staring contest I retreated. I didn't have time for this. I'd confront him again when he least expects it. I mumbled a quick 'sorry' so that he wouldn't keep bothering me about it and retreated to my room. Time to plan.


Later that evening I called Lotte and asked her to come over. Since we graduated high school we kept in contact, but not as often as both of us really want. So we made our 'weekly' appointment for tomorrow, and Lotte insisted on coming over to my place, because apparently she was interested in meeting Jim. I spent the next day worrying about the outcome.

When the next day I told Jim that Lotte was coming over, he smiled, let out an enthusiastic 'brilliant!' and went upstairs immediately. I didn't see him again until Lotte had been here for a while already. We had been chatting, talking about some shows we watch, some music and what had happened to us the past week. The topic 'Jim Moriarty' came up too, because Lotte was a very curious person.

"So… Who is this Jim you keep talking about? Where is he anyway, you told me he'd be here." She asked, and I noticed her looking around. Apparently, she really wanted to meet the consulting criminal. But Jim hadn't showed his face yet.

"I don't know, maybe he's talking to Moran again." My reply came out a bit too relieved, and Lotte raised an eyebrow.

"You guys had a little domestic?"

"He's just my flatmate! But I suppose I am pretty mad at him."

At this I heard Moriarty close a door upstairs, and decided to yell at him.

"You still owe me a sandwich!"

Lotte was confused by my random outburst and she started laughing.

"What is the sandwich a metaphor for? A snog?"

"Just flatmates, Lotte! Just flatmates! He has Moran as a boyfriend anyway!"

"Aw, how cute! Moriarty and Moran, huh? MorMor!"

"LOTTE!"

At this point we were both laughing pretty loudly, and I started to think Jim might not be showing up at all. However, the odds weren't really in my favor, and by the time we had calmed down a bit Moriarty came walking downstairs.

Jim was awfully polite towards Lotte, and even got us some tea (which he never does, I usually have to make tea for him) and sat down on the chair opposite to us, and drank his tea while listening to our conversation. It was hard for me to keep talking because the presence of Moriarty made me a bit nervous… After a little while of more small talk, and some staring at Jim, Lotte went back on the 'sandwich' subject.

"But really, Beck. What does the sandwich stand for? You never really answered me…"

"The sandwich is an actual sandwich! The idiot stole it from me this morning and refuses to admit it!"

At this I saw Lotte looking over to Jim and frown. Jim was still in his polite mask, now reading a newspaper.

"But he's so nice! I can't imagine he'd do something like that…"

"Oh… he would."


After another day, I gave up. There was no way I was going to get anything out of Jim, and to be really honest, I started to believe him. He might be a criminal, but stealing a sandwich was nothing like the man. He probably thought it was below him to steal a sandwich when he'd 'stolen' the crown jewels.

And with that, I never mentioned the sandwich again.