John was probably enjoying himself a bit too more than the average person should have when slashing a knife across someone's throat and causing a burst of arterial spray to splash across his face. The bright crimson liquid going right along with the grin that split the assassin's lips as adrenaline coursed through his body. He was rarely messy. His kills clean, precise, and executed with a distant professionalism. The Markstein's had been one such example, but he wasn't being contracted for clean kills. This was supposed to be messy. Brutal and gory. Full of emotion and feeling as it was all for a greater reason. Moriarty had his own 'cases' to work on, and his latest one was helping to frame someone's ex-lover or something along those lines. He hadn't really needed to know the exact details behind the contract, just what the contract itself would involve.
And it had involved lots, and lots of violence. John continued on his way as he moved to the next few people. He blocked a clumsy punch, hooked his arm around the other's outstretched one to trap it to his side, before flipping his already blood soaked knife and ramming it into the man's chest. The assassin yanked the blade out again when the spark of life left the nameless man's eyes, more blood getting on his clothes (newly bought just for the purpose of being able to dispose of them afterwards) only to fling the blade down the hall where it imbedded itself into the spine of the last target attempting to run away. John moved and retrieved the weapon and slipped it into a plastic baggy before walking off. Moving to the door of the flat where he'd just killed all the people inside, before slipping off the shoes that were about a size and a half too big and had been tracking bloody footprints everywhere. The purpose being that they would be a match with those of the man being framed. John then carefully took a path around the bodies and blood adorning the once white carpet to retrieve his bag with his own shoes. He placed the one's he'd been wearing into a lager plastic trash bag and stuffed them away before sliding his shoes on and slipping outside. It was dark, and no one was out so he didn't have to worry about being spotted with blood splattered across his face right away. He wasn't necessarily surprised when a black car was waiting outside for him with a very amused criminal consultant leaning against the side of it.
"Hmm…Having fun are we, Johnny?" Moriarty questioned, purposefully looking the other up and down. He looked every bit the murderer that he was suppose to be framing someone else as, but that was probably because he already was. Whether he was bloodied or not.
"It's better than sitting around watching crap telly, I guess." John drawled, shifting his duffle bag a bit. It was clean. He'd made sure of it because he did need to bring that back to the flat unlike the rest of everything currently on his person.
"I would hope so," Moriarty replied, sounding almost offended. "I'm much more fun than those afternoon sitcoms!" John chuckled a bit despite himself.
"You've got their dramatics down," he quipped. The criminal, rather than be any form of annoyed at the comment, laughed. The sound madly gleeful. The assassin supposed that it was probably because most people didn't speak to Moriarty in quite the same way he did. They were too scared of the repercussions that might come with it, and while John had a healthy dose of professional respect and caution as the man was like a ticking time-bomb, he didn't shy away from coming right back at him with his own quips and sarcastic comebacks.
"Come along then, Johnny-boy." Moriarty said, pushing off the vehicle and opening the door for John with a bit of a mock bow. The assassin slipped into the car, Moriarty soon joining him once slipping into the other side. The driver was then pulling away, and John was left with little idea of where they were going. The ease with which this worked now was a bit odd considering their past, but Moriarty had made it clear in the beginning that this would have nothing to do with past relations. John hadn't known what to expect of Moriarty, Moriarty hadn't known what John was, and since then they'd gotten their fair share of information on each other. Mainly related to their chosen professions, personal stories were left out of the picture for obvious reasons.
"This is you're fifth contract in just as many days," the criminal was eventually saying as the car rode smoothly through the darkened London streets. "Has business been that slow, or are you just that eager to see me?"
"Both," John replied with an ever challenging, predatory smirk. One that almost always had Moriarty laughing shortly and darkly in return. Probably because most people, even James Moriarty, had grown used to the idea that such an expression would never slip onto the face of one 'ordinary' John Watson.
"Good to know," was all Moriarty said in response. John had been busy with these contracts from the criminal. They'd established early on that John was, in no way shape or form, the man's personal assassin. That once Moran was able to pick up again that John would leave the contracts to the mercenary from then on. The rule, as of late, had been that John would contact the criminal and see if there was any work that needed done (which Moriarty had assured him that there was always work that needed done) and John would do what was needed. The last four contracts, and now this one, had been successful on John's part as well as Moriarty's. It might have even been scary that they worked so well together. John liked the challenge, and if he were deeply honest, being able to work closely with the one giving him the contract in the first place gave him a bit of an advantage as he could ask the questions he needed and make necessary arrangements when needed unlike when the contractors remained faceless voices . Only concerned with the task being completed and being done with John once the assassin's payment was transferred.
When the vehicle stopped John was looking out the window of the vehicle with a touch of confusion. Moriarty was out before him and making it in time to open his door for him as John shouldered his duffle bag and looked to the criminal. The raised eyebrow very clearly asking 'What's going on?'
"This, is one of my flats." Moriarty explained, gesturing to the rather nice looking flat they'd stopped before. "Not my primary flat of course, but it's still better than the hole you and Sherlock live in." The criminal shuddered in an over exaggerated display of revulsion before smirking and leading the way up to the door, then into the hall after it was unlocked. What John noticed right away, as he somewhat cautiously entered, was the fact that it was far larger than his and Sherlock's living area. The sitting room itself large and spacious with a nice kitchen set up off to the side with counters and stools. It all looked very modern, yet comfortable. Livable. The criminal threw his arms out and spun a little as if showing off.
"Welcome to my humble abode…Couldn't let you go back to Sherlock covered in gore, now could I? Bathrooms down the hall—" Moriarty pointed to said hall, "—and on the left. Help yourself." With that Moriarty was turning on his heel and walking off. Disappearing into another room off the sitting room and closing the door behind him. The assassin was left to slowly slink off to the bathroom as the man did have a point. He couldn't really go to 221b if he was covered in evidence. He'd planned to figured something out, but this was an offer to alleviate the planning phase.
Five minutes later, having thoroughly washed off all the blood with a knife handy just in case Moriarty decided to try something, he was stepping out to find clothes waiting for him that he hadn't noticed before. Sweats and a tee-shirt that he pulled on despite himself. He picked up the bag which now contained a pair of clothes to change into that he apparently wouldn't need. He walked back out into the main room to see, to his surprise, Moriarty in sleep wear. Nicer looking pajamas than sweats and a shirt, as it were. The criminal looked up when John entered and set the bag down , and he smirked at the assassin.
"Better?" the man questioned with an innocent hum.
"What are you doing?" John replied with his own question.
"Isn't it obvious? You've been telling Sherlock you've been dating the same person for the better part of a week now. This late at night? You'd stay at their flat rather than trying to go home." Moriarty explained with a lazy wave of his hand. "This was the nearest flat and you needed a shower anyway."
"So, what? I'm just going to stay here?" John questioned, making sure he was actually following along. The consulting criminal raised an eyebrow, lips quirking into an amused smirk.
"That's the idea, yes." he hummed. "Afraid there isn't a guest bedroom Johnny-boy, so you'll have to make do with the sofa." With that, the criminal was up and sauntering off again. Leaving John to watch after him in confusion, unsure what he should do.
After spending a few hours in his study working on the last details of the frame-job John had been so kind as to help with, Jim was emerging from the room to check on the assassin. What he found, to the criminal's actual surprise and delight, was John slumped on one of the sofa's. Obviously having failed in his attempts to fight sleep as there was no doubt that the man hadn't actually tried to sleep in the position he was currently in. Half sitting up and half sprawled out, looking fairly uncomfortable and likely in for a stiff back when he woke up. Jim grinned broadly and softly padded towards the sleeping assassin.
A few careful moves and Jim had the assassin laid out on the sofa in a more prone position on his back. A far more comfortable position to sleep in comparison to how he'd actually drifted off. Once that was settled, Jim fetched a blanket off the back of a chair and draped it over John. The end result being a rather comfortable looking and deeply sleeping assassin curled up on his sofa. Jim couldn't help but find the entire situation both amusing and intriguing as he lingered and watched the gentle rise and fall of John's chest as the man breathed. It would be too easy to kill the man. So vulnerable, so unaware. One quick drag of a knife across the throat, through the heart, or even the use of a bullet would have the deed over and done with before John could even wake in time to stop him. How tempting a thought it was too…and Jim couldn't keep the grin from splitting his lips. This power he'd been unwittingly gifted by John due to his inability to keep his body from shutting down on him was near maddeningly addictive. Making him feel giddy as he hummed softly, dark gaze raking over the other's form openly and taking in every detail.
The news that John had been an assassin, a professional in every sense of the word, had been surprising to Jim. He hadn't expected it. Not in the slightest, and that was both somewhat pleasing as it was keeping him on his toes but also annoying. Annoying as he had missed something so crucial and potentially dangerous about a man that he'd been in close contact with on several occasions. Had kidnapped, had thought he'd learned everything about, and more importantly…was involved with Sherlock Holmes. Jim knew that if he of all people had missed John's true profession as an assassin, then Sherlock was just as if not more clueless than the criminal had been. The amount of faith the detective had in one John Watson was borderline foolish – obviously it was considering that John had turned out to be far more interesting a person than first impressions and appearances indicated. Sherlock was near obsessed with the idea that this one man could be so good and morally sound, yet still have time for him and live with him. Jim wouldn't deny that John might actually care about the friendship he had with Sherlock. Whether it was based on an entirely fake personality of not, John was still one of the few people that appreciated the man's genius. When the game was finally up and John's true nature was revealed, however, that was another game altogether. One that Jim wanted very sorely to be a part of, as he could only imagine what the Iceman would do once he realized that a master assassin had been staying right under his nose and with his precious baby brother. Or even how the detective himself would react. As always, the consulting criminal was holding all the cards as far as this went. The knowledge of John now an asset as he could do so much with it…
But for the moment, as Jim watched the sleeping assassin – arguably one of the most deadly men in the world if his past contracts and current evidence was anything to go by – the criminal knew that his greatest asset would be to keep John close. To ensure that he didn't stray too far away from his influence as it would be so much more vital for his ever expanding empire if he could control someone like the man. To have the assassin on call whenever he wanted, rather than the other way around. John Watson was quickly becoming increasingly important. Something that Jim desired to have and use. The ultimate ace in the hole as it were. A wild card that could strike at both Holmes brothers as well as empower himself…but he'd need to be careful with how he played the cards already on the table. It wasn't worth the risk of losing John. Not when he was suddenly very valuable to the consulting criminal. A tool to use.
With this in mind, Jim happily sauntered to his bedroom with a bit of a spring in his step. Humming a soft tune to himself so as not to wake John up. Let sleeping assassins lie and all that. The criminal slipped inside and locked the door behind him. John may have collapsed into sleep from exhaustion, but Jim would not be so careless as to leave himself vulnerable. The assassin's loyalties were still up in the air. A wild card until swayed. Jim was very much intent on being the one who did the swaying.
Hello! I've finally introduced some more dynamic between Jim and John, and I intend to keep that going. If only you all knew what you were getting into because trust me, things are going to be getting pretty interesting as far as John keeping his little secret goes *evil laughter*
Have a good day,
Reaperess ^_^