Author's Note: There will probably be a few flashback chapters throughout the story. This one never made it into To Catch a Ghost so I thought I'd share it here and help answer a couple of questions some may have had. But it's mostly fluff. In time for Valentine's Day too ;) Feedback appreciated as always.
London, Great Britain,
1 year ago
Moriarty considered himself a sensible man for the most part. He rarely acted on impulse unless no other options were available to him. He put logic before feeling, and thought before intuition. And yet here he was again, lying naked beside her while she slept in the crook of his arm. He knew the second he grabbed her and kissed her that he was making a mistake but these thoughts quickly dispelled once she began to kiss him back with equal passion. Whatever it was between them was neither logical nor sensible. She just had this hold over him and no amount of criminal consultation grandeur could shake her out of his head. No matter how much he hated her he still kept ending up here.
He didn't understand it, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to. Having her writhing beneath him and endeavoring to not gain the attention of the other Baker Street residents was all too thrilling for him. Why would he want to over-complicate something that was just good ole fun? But it was already complicated. They both had conflicting directions in life. He knew he would have to kill her sooner or later. He grimaced at the thought. Killing her would be a damn shame. He brushed a finger down her bare shoulder and imagined not being able to touch her again… or kiss her… or be inside of her. He rolled on his back and groaned, running a hand down his face. What was wrong with him?
The faint light through the curtain caught his eye. Morning was approaching. He couldn't be here. He knew that when she'd wake up that he'd want to stay for longer. That would inconvenience all his plans.
He slowly, carefully removed his arm from under her and quietly dressed. He slipped out into the bedroom and gently shut the door behind him. That was when he noticed a familiar manila folder on the coffee table. The corner of his mouth quirked upward.
Oh Sherlock, you petty fool.
He climbed up on an armchair and peered into the corner of the ceiling where the tiny camera was installed. He bared his teeth in a mirthless grin and tilted his head to the left and to the right.
"Hope you got my good side, Mycroft," he whispered. He puckered his lips and made an air-kiss.
He then made his way across the room, out of the camera's line of sight. He entered the spare room and shut the door behind him. Of all the renovations Mrs. Hudson made to the place, she egregiously overlooked one. The basement-style windows were too small for anyone to fit through when opened. However, the one in the spare room was not fitted properly and could be pushed out by its entire frame. It was easy for anyone to slip in and out of the alleyway behind Baker Street. Fortunately for Moriarty, no burglars had figured this out yet or the window would have to be repaired and he would no longer have his easy access to 221C. He slipped out quietly, replacing the frame behind him so that it looked as though it had never been touched. A pair of headlights veering past the top of the lane-way caught his attention.
Ah. That would be all the king's horses then. Sorry boys, no time for you today.
He strolled down the lane, watching the stars fade with the dawn.
