The next few months went like that. Setting up accounts at the bank, meeting Sebastian for coffee- sometimes lunch, interviewing clients for things I wasn't always terribly aware of. About two months in I started picking up dry cleaning and other more common things. I wouldn't take them to any house or apartment but different hotel rooms all over the city. I tried to ask Sebastian just who exactly I was delivering all this stuff too but he dodged my question. I knew it must have been Mr. Moriarty, but why hotels? Didn't he live somewhere more... I dunno permanent?

Then the day came in January that I had to put my foot down. It was January 28th to be precise. I woke up to my cold apartment and a knock on my door. I, not being exactly a morning person, shouted something like "Hold your fucking horses!" and made my way over to the door in about five minutes.

Whoever had been there was already gone, but I was left with an envelope with a very familiar seal. It was from Moriarty. It wasn't the first time my day's routine was left at my door. I always wondered who exactly dropped it off. If I was Moriarty's personal assistant then who was his delivery man?

I suppose it didn't matter. I went back inside and flipped on the news as I opened my packet. It was the usual pickups and deliveries. But one thing stood out.

It was a deposit for the first client I had met. Mr. Davis. It was a large amount of money but I had come to accept that Mr. Moriarty was a very wealthy man, all this bank transactions exceeded any amounts of money I had ever had.

But the thing was it coincided with another one of those suicide murders. I flashed back to the man I had met. His game with the pills... it was weird. Or at least I thought it was, but was I just being paranoid? Since started working for Moriarty I had felt like I was being watched frequently. But no... no this was weird. I was officially months into my work and I had still yet to meet my employer.

I opened my phone and started a tex.

We need to talk.

-AA

Not even a minute later my phone vibrated in my hands.

Why does this sound like a break up?

-JM

That was another thing I had come to expect from my employer and his vague texs. It didn't seem like he took the things I said seriously. Or sometimes he over used exclamation marks and made things seem genuineness. At first I secretly adored his praises. But lately they seemed fake.

I decided not to encourage his teasing.

We need to talk.

-AA

Almost immediately after I had sent my tex I received another one from him.

Walk to your first appointment at the bank.

-JM

What the fuck. The bank was far away. But it seemed like he wasn't joking around. I got dressed and wrapped myself up thoroughly for the cold weather and ventured outside with my satchel bag in hand.

The wind was freezing. There were very few people out on the sidewalks. I saw several taxis pass me by and while I was very tempted to just hail one down I followed my instructions anyway.

About five blocks into the walk I noticed someone was keeping pace with me.

I shot him a couple of looks that I hope conveyed my annoyance with him walking beside me but he just smiled and kept up. I'd have enough.

"I'm sorry can I help you with something?"

"Haha, I was wondering when you were going to ask!-" the man laughed and I gave him a blank look, silently asking him to continue.

"Jim Moriarty- hiii." He grabbed my arm and made me keep walking. So... this was my employer. He wasn't incredibly tall though taller than me, but he was fairly good looking. Wearing a designer coat which he foolishly had open despite the wind. The thing that stood out most about him was his smile. It didn't seem to falter. Like he was just happy to be out and alive. He wasn't anything I had expected. Most paranoids were fidgety and unwelcoming.

"When I said, 'We need to talk.' I meant at, you know, a place. A cafe, restaurant, hell even my apartment. It's freezing out here."

"Hmmm. It is on the nippy side..." he trailed off then appeared to have become distracted with my satchel that was hanging off the arm facing him. He took it off my shoulder and began looking about the pockets. His expression was almost child-like, he seemed so innocent so I didn't stop him.

"..And?" I prompted hoping he would finish his line of talking.

"I don't like proper places." He said quite shortly. I didn't exactly know what to say to that...

"Is that why you live in hotel rooms?"

"Umm.. no. I get bored. Quite easily so. I couldn't live in one house for a long period of time so hotels make more sense. There not a proper place to live but people live there for days on time. I like that idea."

"So like this sidewalk? It exists but it's not a real place?" I asked trying to understand him.

"Yeah... Like sidewalks and elevators- airplanes the most. I've never really been on a boat before but I'd bet I'd like that too."

"You're pretty weird."

He smiled larger. "You're just getting that now? From moths of working for me?"

I decided to ignore his question. I don't think he really wanted me to answer it either. He had found my granola bar I had in my satchel and started eating it, handing the rest of the bag back to me.

"The money I've been giving Mr. Davis. It has something to do with the suicides doesn't it?" There I had said it. Now I guess the cards were going to land whereever they'd fall. If someone was accusing me of paying a man to kill people I"d be outraged. I'd deny it immediately- maybe yell a little.

But he didn't. We just kept walking- him chewing the snack and me staring at him. After about five minutes of silences I couldn't take it anymore. I stopped and turned to face him fully. There was no one behind us or in front. As I looked around I realized there was no one anywhere.

I reached forward and for the first time since meeting him he didn't look carefree. He looked dangerous- lethal like a snake tell you to back off. But I reached forward anyway. To his jacket. I started buttoning up his buttons.

"It is freezing out here. Do you want to get sick?" I asked not looking in his eyes. They were too frightening.

Once I was done though, I had no choice to look at him. But the death glare was gone, and he was staring at me again like a carefree guy. The cook making his nose and cheek red. I was sure my cheeks were red too, but I'd deny the blush till the day I died.

"You know, you're not as stupid as I thought you were going to be."

Well, that wasn't exactly what I was expecting.

"The fuck do you mean?" I really had to start a swear jar or something.

"Never would someone have asked me, would I guess that /you/ would put it all together with the Jeffy-boy and his pill game with the suicides. Even though you had more information than anyone actually trying to solve the case. Well done."

And that was the only confession I was going to get. We continued walking.