AN: Prompt at end of chapter.
There is Always a Beginning
"Worked just like you said it would, Jimmy!" Randal laughed and punched his companion lightly on the shoulder then popped one of the sweets into his mouth, rolling the colored lump of candy around so that it clicked on his teeth.
James grimaced in distaste, more for being called Jimmy than the unwelcome contact. He tolerated both out of necessity.
"I told you it would work," he said, regarding the other boy, a scruffier, slightly taller and generally rougher lad than James was himself.
"How'd you figure it out?" Randal asked, still savoring the lump of candy.
"Yeah, Jimmy," Anthony, Randal's friend, said. He was also savoring one of the sweets. "Tell us."
Anthony was as tall and rough as Randal. Both were excellent specimens of working-class lads, poorly educated but streetwise.
"I simply watched," James said. His statement was met by uncertain expressions. He elaborated, "I spent a week observing the shop. I learned when deliveries were made. I learned when the constable passed and how long it took him to turn the corner. I even went inside a few times to learn the layout of the shelves and counters. Once I factored these elements into the equation, the plan revealed itself."
"Huh!" Randal said and popped another sweet into his mouth. His gaze was fixed on the middle distance, his expression thoughtful. Finally, he said, "That's smart."
"Yeah," agreed Anthony. "Smart. Only I don't get what you got out of it, Jimmy. You was in the shop across the street when we busted the window."
"Never mind what I got," James said. "You have your candies and biscuits. Not to mention the silver bowls. I imagine you can pawn those for more than a few pennies."
"Aye, we can," Anthony confirmed. "Only, I'm thinking we can get even more with whatever you got. Hand it over, Jimmy."
James noted that Randal was looking sidelong at his friend, his face frozen in an expression of uncertain speculation.
"No," James said with what might have been undue confidence in one so clearly outmatched by either of these two tough lads.
"Hand it over, Jimmy, or we'll take it from you," Anthony said. There was a contemptuous smirk on his lips and an eager gleam in his eyes. "You'll have to explain to your posh mumsy and dadsy what happened to your posh clothes and why you got bruises all over."
Randal, his expression still uncertain, looked back and forth between his friend and James, but he made no move to either support Anthony or defend James.
James smiled up at the tough boys and said, "Do that and you won't be in on the next plan I'm working on. This was a test, Anthony. I have more interesting and more lucrative ideas."
"What's that mean?" Anthony asked Randal out of the corner of his mouth.
"Means he's got more than a sweet shop in mind," Randal said, his expression changing to one of interest.
"So?" Anthony asked, not too brightly.
"So shut up and let him be," Randal said. "I like him. Head on his shoulders, right? Useful that. And, he's got a set on him, eh? Didn't even blink when you threatened him, never mind that you could tear him apart."
Anthony slipped another sweet into his mouth, rolling it on his tongue while he looked thoughtfully down at James. After a moment when James did not react, he nodded.
"All right, Jimmy," he said. "All right. What you planning next?"
"In a week, I shall tell you," said James. "I need to gather more information. Until then, stay out of trouble. I need both of you."
"Fine. A week," Anthony said and turned away. He began whistling as he strolled.
"What did you get, Jimmy?" Randal asked, but in a low tone Anthony would not hear.
From his pocket, James produced a handful of brightly painted lead soldiers. Some wore scarlet. Some wore blue.
"That's it?" Randal asked, puzzled.
"I got what I wanted," James said. "You got something you wanted. Stick with me, Randal, and we shall both prosper."
A slow smile spread across Randal's lips, and he gave James a wink then turned and trotted after Anthony. James watched them go before turning in the opposite direction and going through the park gate. He passed through the shade of a tree and stopped, reaching into his other pocket. From it, he took a paper wrapped object. Peeling the paper aside exposed his real prize. Though clad in blue jacket and white breeches, the figure was no mere toy soldier. This figure sat astride a rearing white stallion and wore a black cocked hat upon his head. James smiled. The figure represented one of the very few men of genius in history and he had lived not so very long ago. Even after his death, he loomed large in the collective memory of Britons, and all of Europe for that matter. It had taken the combined force of Europe and England to defeat him, and even then, he had refused to stay defeated. One day, James wanted to do the same. One day, the world would remember James Moriarty alongside greats such as Napoleon Bonaparte. And no one would ever guess it all began with a dual theft from a sweet shop and a toymaker's.
Prompt from Domina Temporis: the Napoleon of Crime
AN: I had no idea this prompt was coming when I wrote the previous stories. Don't worry. I am not planning to turn this into a Moriarty Christmas.