It was a relief to leave that house and move into a modern penthouse in central London. Moriarty had decided to indulge my Bond villain fantasy and spoil us to a mod-con filled bachelor pad overlooking the Thames. With its glass roof and many windows it didn't have the claustrophobic feel that the terrace house did. Another advantage has that the open plan layout made it easier for me to keep an eye on Jim during his more manic episodes. Not that this seemed necessary, with the move much of Moriarty's neuroses had disappeared and he had in fact become rather companionable. Well, it was either the move that had changed his mood or the fact that he'd just gained control over the Black Lotus gang, China's largest smuggling group, in exchange for getting them into the UK.
Even this didn't satisfy him for long though and he was soon stalking around the newly purchased apartment sulking impatiently. I sat absent-mindedly shuffling a pack of cards; I'd finished cleaning my gun collection and, like Moriarty, preferred to be occupied rather than idle.
Jim soon landed with a thud in the chair opposite mine watching me shuffle the cards.
"Let's play," He said.
"Oh I'm not doing that again," I said, laughing quietly.
"I did not cheat! Look I'll prove it to you."
"What and make me sell the guns in order to pay my debt to you? I don't think so."
"We don't have to play for money, who really cares about money?"
I laughed again, looking round the expensive apartment pointedly.
"Look," I said, "There's no point in playing if we don't play for something."
"Well then, think of something more interesting!"
I paused, considering what Jim did really care about.
"Strip poker," The words were out of my mouth as soon as they crossed my mind.
"Are you hitting on me Moran?" He asked derisively.
"No, I just know that all you care about is your vulnerability or lack thereof."
We ended up playing several rounds of cards, I would change the game we were playing each time and Jim would have to work out the rules whilst playing. He figured it out every time and managed to win in an instant. By the end of the seventh game I was dressed only in my boxer shorts whilst Jim hadn't even removed his tie.
I was getting desperate. I didn't care too much about the nakedness; Jim had barely seemed to notice. I just hated losing.
Then I had an idea.
I dealt the cards and we began the new game but partway through I changed a couple of rules so as to throw Jim off. I saw him frown slightly as things stopped making sense. His confusion gave me time to collect my cards and finish. He growled in frustration at losing, removing his jacket and throwing it across the sofa. His state of irritation increased upon losing a second game and a third. By this point he was throwing cards down with such annoyance that they were skidding across the table. His tie had gone and so had his shirt and I was starting to see another incentive to carry on this game. For a housemate Moriarty had been relatively private. He didn't care much for the importance of personal space, but I was yet to see him unclothed until now. He was very skinny, with prominent hipbones and hollow collarbones to match but his arms were surprisingly defined. Now to get his trousers off…
Jim literally howled in anger at losing again and I couldn't resist laughing slightly. This aroused suspicion immediately and his brows furrowed further as he stared intently at me.
"If I find out you're cheating…"
"Someone's a bit slow," I smirked.
He pounced on me, grabbing the rifle that sat next to me and pressing it across my windpipe. I was yet to see him fire a gun, but he certainly found other inventive ways to use them as weapons.
Choked laughter now escaped my lips and I knew this would send him to boiling point. It was as though he was going to evaporate entirely when I dragged my eyes across his body which was perched on my legs, blatantly eye-fucking him and licking my lips. He stood up looking mortified and then without warning hit my shins violently with the barrel of the gun. I doubled over in agony, sliding off the sofa and collapsing on the floor with a cry of pain. I lay there; face down in the thick luxurious carpet listening for the next sound of movement. It came in the form of clothes being hurriedly put back on, footsteps away from the room and the front door being opened and closed with a short decisive snap. He had left me alone, the worst punishment of all.