Disclaimer: I don't own a thing. A.N. Today's prompt comes from Book girl fan: what does Moriarty do for Christmas? Thanks! Kind of a sequel to one of my past years' snippets.
"Moran, you'll have to miss your Christmas reunion," Moriarty announced one week before the holiday.
"My father won't appreciate it, sir," the sniper replied with a shrug.
"And my brothers won't appreciate me not being present to their traditional celebration, but I'd rather die than being subjected once again to being everyone's favourite uncle Jamie," the professor all but growled.
Moran couldn't help it. He chuckled. "I don't like the old man's criticism either, sir. I just mentioned it because your orders were to keep him from snapping and disowning me, but if you can concoct me a good excuse, I'll be more than happy to join you instead. Maybe I can tell him the same thing you told your family?"
"I don't think so. Do you have students hidden somewhere and do you need do prepare the exams for them?" Moriarty sneered.
"Can't say I have, no. well, I hope you'll help me out with a good reason then. And what's the plan? Are we actually working on Christmas?" his companion inquired, with a disarming smile.
"Gosh, Moran, no! I want to have a good one for once. Paris! Good food, maybe the opera afterward, or whatever we'll be in the mood for at the moment. No children, no relatives, no annoyances," Moriarty explained in earnest.
"Sounds like heaven…" the sniper sighed. "I have to ask, though: why me?"
"You're my insurance, Moran, obviously. Nothing is supposed to happen. But in case anything does, I'll count on you to right things for me," the professor said.
"Oh, of course. Obviously. It's still kind of you, sir. Thanks for thinking of me," Moran replied, repressing another smile. The man's mood seemed volatile tonight.
"Don't be stupid now. Who else is there?"