"How would you like a job?"
A dark figure loomed above me, hidden from clear view by the darkness of the alleyway.
"What," I mumbled, still half asleep and half frozen.
"A job. I have one for you. Do you want it?"
I thought of the last few times and felt repulsion run through my veins once more. I needed the money though so I stood on shaky legs and tried to gain a better assessment of his features. He looked clean at least, pretty vicious though. After all, no normal person would look for sex down a darkened alley way with a stranger. A sure sign I was in for a lot of pain. I could take it though.
"Here, or do you want to go some place else," I asked, hoping I would at least have somewhere warm to stay for a little while.
"Keep your pants on Moran, not that kind of job," he chuckled darkly, his eyes roaming over my figure. "At least, not right now."
"How do you know my name?"
It was done. It was over. Moriarty was gone, taking my Jim with him. I stared down at the broken carcass at my feet and felt nothing. I had nothing left within me. The moment he had breathed his last, so had I. I thought about the minute I had first met him. It made me laugh darkly.
"I guess this is what we get and what we deserve," I spoke aloud, knowing I would receive no reply. I set about the tasks I had been given, feeling like a vulture as I searched his pocket for his phone. I badly wanted to close his eyes but I knew I had to be careful not to leave too much of a trace. I put the phone in my pocket and knelt beside him, knowing I had to leave but not wanting to.
I lay down on the ground beside him and rested my head on his chest, greeted by the silence where there had once been a heartbeat. He was still a little warm. I breathed in the smell of him, his expensive cologne and shampoo. The smell of his dry cleaned suit. Below me there was a commotion about Sherlock's body. I hated to think about what would happen to Jim's. I wanted to stay and protect him but I left, swiftly disappearing down staircases and into a waiting car. Now was not the time to give up on the plan.
No doubt Holmes had put his brother on my tail and suddenly the tiger had become the mouse, being chased around London by an overfed house cat. Jim would have laughed at that. There were things to be done.
I spent the lengthy car journey torturing myself by reading through messages from Jim.
Come home.
Bring food.
Sebby, I'm tired.
I told you so.
I'm waiting.
Moriarty was a man of many words, but Jim was a child of few. I allowed myself to remember the high pitched sounds he used to make when I tickled him or snuggled him close to me. I think I would have lived quiet happily with that man forever. We would have quietly continued a secret existence until one day deciding that we were done and ending it all. Sherlock Holmes had ruined that.
We ruined him Sebby.
I smiled. I know Jim.