AN: Again I apologise for the recent drought in posts so I thought I'd make it up to you by posting twice in less than twenty-four hours. This is a short one but I hope the plot-progression makes up for it. Also if you don't know who Keyser Söze is please DO NOT GOOGLE HIM! Instead watch "The Usual Suspects", just Googling him will ruin the plot twist in what is probably the greatest thriller movie of all time and if you choose to do so anyway, I kindly ask that you never reveal the secret to anyone. It's the spoiler to end all spoilers. It's bigger than the ending of "Fight Club" (again; watch, don't Google) so don't ruin it for others. Thank you.
As usual all reviews are loved and cherished and replied to.
Artemis.
"How can you not have heard of him? He's like Keyser Söze or something! Everybody's heard of him!"
Jim shot her a withering glance across her kitchen counter,
"Don't be stupid Charlotte, if anyone was Keyser Söze it would be me."
"What I mean is, he's a story. This mythical man, who rules the world, can track down anyone, can manipulate anything. I'm sorry Jim but Finney was having you on, there is no such person as Mycroft Holmes. Come on even the name's stupid!"
Jim only smiled as he dropped a brown envelope onto the counter; in between the two fresh cups of coffee Moran had just set out,
"I beg to differ."
Inside the envelope were several black and white photographs of a tall man in a three piece suit, a smartly dressed woman with glossy hair close at his heels as he stepped out of a black jaguar.
"This is him?" Moran demanded, not quite believing that Jim could have found the man within three weeks of hearing his name.
"That's him?"
"So, what then? Am I killing him?"
Moran resisted the urge to slap him when he rolled his eyes,
"No, don't be obvious! He's far too well protected for that. Anyway it's not him I'm interested in."
"Who then, the woman? I doubt she'll be easy to manipulate if she works for this guy."
"No," Jim got up from his seat, taking his rapidly cooling coffee with him as he walked to the window, "keep looking."
Moran flicked further through the pictures until the subject changed, now she was staring at a younger man with dark curls and shockingly sharp cheekbones.
"What about him?"
"Sherlock Holmes, Mycroft's little brother. Drug addict, possible sociopath, 'Consulting Detective', genius." Taking a sip of his drink he stared out of the window, lost in thought as Moran flicked through the pictures again.
"Oh!" she said, finally.
"Oh?"
"I get it now."
Jim glanced back at her with an amused smile,
"And what exactly do you get?"
"This isn't about Mycroft Holmes is it? It's about Sherlock Holmes. He's a challenge, and there's nothing you love more than a challenge is there?"
Jim turned towards the window again,
"He's like me," he told her in a far-away voice, "Brilliant," he took another sip of coffee, "and misunderstood."
