The day slipped by as slow as ever, leaving you almost extatic to go to bed. Considering you weren't really a person for sleeping in the day - finding it slightly pointless (seeing that you probably wouldn't sleep during the night if you took a nap during the day.) When the night drew in, you were still lying in your bed looking up at the ceiling and still contemplating almost impossible ideas in your head. Within a few minutes of realising that the darkness had rolled itself in, your eyes were closed and you were ready to head off into a better place - your dream land. You knew that things would be interesting there. You just knew it.
As you'd predicted to yourself, when you find yourself in your dream place, things were very interesting indeed. You 'woke' in the same room you found the last note from the breadcrumb trail in. Except this time, you look down at yourself and find that you weren't in fact still wearing your pyjamas, but a very pretty looking white and black dress. The length is very appealing, a quite fashionable cut: just above the knee and very ruffled at the bottom. It has no straps, the part of the dress that covers up your chest has a beautifully elegant black vintage pattern and has a large, black flower attatched to it with a long piece of see through black fabric flowing from the flower to the bottom of the dress. On your feet are a pretty little pair of heeled ankle boots in white and black with little black bows on the toe part. You smile to yourself and chuckle slightly, feeling like a princess in what looks like 'his' Majesty's bedroom - you wonder if you're going to be addressed by your Prince 'Not-So' Charming or whatever he called himself in the note.
You go over to the other side of the room and sit down on one of the very comfy looking chairs that faces the door to 'her' Majesty's bedroom. You wonder why you're in the man's bedroom instead of the woman's. The sun reveals itself from behind the clouds and illuminates the room and everything begins glowing. It's beautiful.
"Wow..." Is the only word that escapes your lips. From the corner of your eye you see a small piece of paper that wasn't there before, it's lying on the bed with a rose next to it. You raise an eyebrow and walk over to it then pick it up to read what it says.
"Face the mantlepiece and look down at the fireplace." It reads. You do as the note says and face the mantlepiece behind you and then look down at the fireplace. Not long after, you hear footsteps behind you and fight the urge to look behind no matter how much you really want to.
A hand touches your left shoulder lightly and the feel of the person's fingers against your skin sends a light shiver down your spine. Their hand is noteably cold. The fingers stroke your shoulder gently back and forth a few times - it's a funny feeling you get from it, slightly ticklish yet a feeling you want to feel again. The fingers stop stroking and hold onto your shoulder firmly leaving you feeling the warmth between the hand and your shoulder. You remain looking down at the fireplace the whole time - obeying the paper yet slightly scared to see who was there.
"Aren't you going to look at me?" A voice accompanies the hand on your shoulder from behind. You notice a slight Irish accent and a very softly spoken voice. Your eyes swing to the left and look down at the hand before you turn your whole self to find the face that matches the captivating voice behind you.
As you turn to face the man, you notice his beautifully fitting all black suit and tight white dress shirt underneath - his tie is white and has the same vintage pattern as your dress. His shoes are jet black and well polished to match his suit. You assume the outfits have been planned in your head. From when you'd turned around, his hand had retracted from your shoulder to behind his back - as had his other hand. This puzzles you and leads you to ask about it.
"What are you hiding behind your back?" He smiles lightly and then looks to the side before replying,
"Your hair's not done..." You scoff at his comment as he turns you to face the large mirror that has appeared atop the mantlepiece. Your hair is flowing down and is curled slightly - though it really doesn't look so bad, if this is his idea of not done then you were eager to see it done properly.
"Close your eyes." He orders. You obey.
You open your eyes when he says it's okay to and look into the mirror. You gasp at yourself when you see your hair is in a tight, neat updo. It's curled perfectly and held up with some simple clips. To top it all off, you notice a pretty little silver tiara placed gently atop your head. You're beaming a smile as you turn back to face the man behind you once again. He gives a small side smile and you can tell you look a thousand times more like a Princess.
"There you go, Princess." Your jaw drops. This is JM. The man standing before you that is only a tiny bit taller than you are. He's in perfect shape, sporting his tightly fitted suit like he knows he's perfection. Neatly trimmed, well kept hair is not a bit out of place, all styled for a special occasion like the both of you are dressed. Light stubble lining his jaw and just above his lip but even so, his face remains perfect. It's free of blemishes, cuts, bruises, anything. He's flawless. Even such things as his nicely shaped eyebrows and the shape of his nose seem perfect to you. You're drawn in by him so much that you stand there gawking at him with a slightly open mouth for much longer than you probably should have.
"What's your name?" You finally manage to get out your words and even when they come out, you sound so innocent and quiet.
"James Moriarty." You begin to open your mouth to tell him your name in return but he pushes a finger to your mouth before you can start. "I already know who you are, Princess."
Before anything else can be said, he pulls out an envelope from his blazer pocket and pushes it into your hand without a word and then begins to walk away and out of the room.
"M-Moriarty... Wait!" He doesn't even look back. You stand in the room, completely lost for words from your sudden encounter as you look down at the envelope that has your name written neatly onto it. Just before your mind sets on even opening the thing, it all seems to fade to black and you're back in your bedroom once again.