Again, and as always, thanks for the reviews!
Writing this fanfiction is really all I have lol and so these reviews and compliments make me the happiest I can possibily be (bordering on eurphoria, sometimes lol) so thank you all so much!
Well here's my usual 'this chapter starts off a little weird don't be scared and stop reading' thingy...lol
...and also, because people were complaining sorry for too much Sherlock and John and what could be considered Sherlock and John slash lol.
That was for mirror's sake, I swear!
I was trying to make a sort of parallel situation going on here between Jim and Sherlock's lives...perhaps I went too far? lol
Sorry.
...
...
And as for this chapter, it's back to Jim.
Not any Molly though (it's gonna be her POV next chapter)...
...but there the beginings of Jim and James' WAR!
Hope you like.
Given,
Irene=Sherlock but not as much as Jim=Sherlock
Jim=Sherlock=Irene=(reflections)
Jim=Sherlock=Irene=(gods)
Sherlock + Irene= (Nova)
Sherlock + Jim= (Super Nova)
Jim= 'greater than' Sherlock
Or
Sherlock is 'greater than' Jim
Or
Sherlock=Jim
(All three are correct)
And
Sherlock = 'greater than' John
But
Sherlock + John= 'greater than' Sherlock
Sherlock-John= ?
Jim + (0)John= Jim
So
Sherlock-John= Jim
John=John
Kate=(1)John
Sally Donovan + Anderson + (sometimes)Dimmock= (1)John
Anthea= (2)John and yet (1)John= 'greater than' (1)Anthea
(And what about)
Moran=(1)John
(That was true too)
So
James+ Moran = Mycroft + Anthea
James= Mycroft
And
Mycroft = 'greater than' Sherlock
Mycroft+ Anthea= 'greater than' Mycroft
But
Sherlock + John = still 'greater than' Mycroft + Anthea
Mycroft=James
James= 'greater than' Jim
But
Jim + (1)John= 'greater than' James
Jim + (0)John= Jim= (reality)
Molly=(1)John
And so
Jim + Molly= Jim + (1)John= 'greater than' James
James=Mycroft
Sherlock + John= 'greater than' Mycroft
Jim + Molly = 'greater than' Mycroft
But
Mycroft= 'greater than' Sherlock
Still
Sherlock-John= Sherlock
Therefore
Jim + Molly = 'greater than' Sherlock
(Jim wins)
The math was all there.
It all added up.
It all made sense.
Jim needed a John.
(All the other kids in class had one.)
Jim needed Molly.
Although he was more than fifteen years older than the majority of them, Jim managed to blend in perfectly with the university students. He was babyfaced, anyway...
It was the day after his 'date' with Molly had been abruptly 'cancelled'.
Like a chameleon, he had absorbed the surrounding, official colors, donning a sweatshirt and baseball cap with the school crest.
Jim followed his fellow 'classmates' as they filed into the auditoriumesque lecture hall. At least a hundred students filled the long, curving desks, rising upwards like stairs in rows.
Ever the 'class clown', Jim popped a piece of bubble-gum into his mouth and sat down at the back corner of the classroom.
The chatter in the room subsided as the professor entered from the door at the bottom of the hall, next to the huge transparent board.
It was already filled entirely with numbers, equations, letters and other symbols, written in black marker.
….So very complicated, math was…
Jim pulled out a notebook from his new backpack (also purchased at the school store) and began to take notes.
And the professor lectured.
(A boring hum that Jim tuned out.)
After a few minutes (that felt, to Jim, like hours) Jim looked up and saw a boy and girl (both in their late teens) chatting in the row below him.
The boy had his laptop open and was showing the girl a video that looked like it had much more to do with the last night's party than today's lesson.
Jim tore a blank sheet from his notebook, crumpled it up and threw the ball downwards.
It bounced against the laptop screen and rolled across the keyboard.
The boy and girl instantly turned around to see who had thrown it but the student sitting behind them was diligently taking notes.
They returned to their video viewing, continuing to whisper and snickering.
The girl even let out a laughing gasp that she had to cover with a hand.
Jim threw another paper ball.
It hit her in the back of the head.
She turned around, glared but saw no primary culprit and so bent down and picked up the notebook sheet off the floor, un-crumpling it.
It read:
Nice ass.
Now shut up.
The girl pulled her jeans up, shimmying in her chair and then showed the boy the note.
He snatched it out of her hand, re-crumpled it and turned around.
"Who threw this?" he demanded in a harsh whisper.
The row behind him looked up at the ceiling or actually at the professor or down at their notes or computers or phones or Ipods or just at their twiddling thumbs.
Everyone looked like the guilty feigning innocence.
So Jim decided to briefly glance at the boy, then hurriedly look away and start to whistle.
"You threw this paper?" the boy 'deduced', pointing a finger at Jim accusingly.
"…Yeah… problem?" Jim stopped whistling and replied, raising an eyebrow.
"You can't talk about my girlfriend like that!" the boy hissed.
"I was talking about you, mate." Jim shrugged, "I've got bad aim, I guess."
He blew a pink bubble with his gum (also purchased at the school store) up until it popped and he pulled it back into his mouth.
The boy glared and growled but before he was able to speak the professor coughed very audibly causing all eyes in the room to leave the 'scene' unfolding between Jim, the boy and the girl and return to the front of the room.
A few minutes passed, again, and when the boy decided it was safe to continue his confrontation with Jim, he turned back around.
"Who are you?" he asked, "What's your name? I've never seen you around here before!"
"That can change." Jim winked, leaning his chin on his knuckle and his elbow on the desk.
"That's it!" the boy snapped, "You and me have a problem now! Just wait till we get out of class, then we'll see who's got a 'nice ass'!"
"Oooh, I can't wait!" Jim squealed.
The boy, already red-faced in rage, blushed even more heavily when he realized that what he said had not 'come out' in the way he had meant it to.
"…Good, cause I'm gonna kick your ass!" he clarified.
"You don't even go to this school…" Another student a couple seats down from Jim piped up, looking up from his phone.
"Yeah, you don't even go here." The girl agreed.
The three glared at Jim, in anger, suspicion and confusion.
"…So?" Jim replied.
"Excuse me, do you four in the back have something to share with the class?"
The professor had suddenly joined the conversation, addressing those interrupting his class with a shout from below.
The boy and girl returned to forward position, looking down at their desk sheepishly, unsure of whether to 'share with the class' their argument with the 'new kid' behind them.
The third student swiftly stashed his phone in the pocket of his khakis and looked up at the professor, shaking his head 'no'.
Jim, however, smiled and stood up, raising his hand.
"Actually, I do." He declared.
Professor James Moriarty narrowed his eyes, glaring at his brother.
"Go on…" he allowed, through gritted teeth.
"Well what I'd like to share," Jim stated, "isn't really meant for the whole class. It's just meant for you, professor…so if you'd like to speak more privately in your office—"
"No. You'll say it here." James responded curtly, trying to call what he hoped was a bluff.
"Alright, then." Jim shrugged, "I always did like an audience…"
He stretched out his arms, turning left and right and then back towards James, making sure all in the room were watching him.
"Quickly, please." James added, rolling his eyes, "You're wasting valuable class time."
Seconds (that felt, to James and the class, like minutes (that felt, to James and the class, like hours)) past.
Finally, Jim sucked in a deep breath (everyone else held theirs) as if he were preparing to give a long monologue as if the silent, anticipating lecture hall was a theater.
"Fuck you." He said.
There were several jaw-droppings and gasps as the students looked at Jim, then around the room at each other shocked and confused, and finally to their professor.
"I believe, sir, that it's time for you to leave now." James told, "Security is already on its way to escort you out."
And as if the lecture hall was a theater and as if this 'scene' unfolding was a play…
… as if on cue Sebastian Moran entered the room from the lower door, marched past James up the stairs all the way to Jim.
Jim tossed his notebook into his backpack and his backpack over his shoulder before Moran grabbed both his shoulders and began to push him out of the room.
"This way, sir." Moran muttered.
His face was lacking facial expression as usual, but Jim could see his brow already furrowing in frustration.
(And the 'sir' was the bit of sarcasm Moran did allow himself to use when dealing with Jim.)
"Of course." Jim smirked, "But just one more thing…"
With two fingers, Jim removed the gum from his mouth and placed it under the desk.
Moran (and everybody) watched him but did not stop him.
"…there…" Jim twisted his fingers under the table, securing the gum and breathed.
"Ready to go, now?" Moran inquired, deliberately not raising an eyebrow, "Sir."
"Mmm-hmm." Jim nodded, grinning.
He let Moran lead him out of the classroom.
Moran closed the two lecture hall doors behind him with thud.
It was louder than he had hoped it would be (and he hoped it didn't further disrupt his employer's teaching) but at least it had a finalizing effect.
Jim seemed to be the type into symbols and the like and so if slamming doors 'symbolized' to Jim that he was not supposed to be interacting like this with Professor James Moriarty (especially in person) and sent him the 'message' that it (whatever 'it' was—the (not very) brotherly relationship?) was over, then things would go smoothly.
"Fascinating lecture, huh?" Jim commented and then dissolved into snickers.
He didn't get the 'message'.
Things could continue to go not smoothly.
…unless Moran made things more clear.
(Simple, straight-forward, easy-to-understand-Not that overly complicated bullshit that James and Jim Moriarty both seemed to fertilize their lives with.)
He drew his fist back and then punched Jim in the face.
Jim was knocked to the floor (as Moran knew he would be, seeing as it had happened before when his employer had paid a failing student to attack Jim at a bar on Valentine's Day).
Too easy.
That guy's punch had, being instructed by the professor to do so, avoided Jim's nose and teeth…but Moran was not so loving.
Jim stood up from the floor, stroking his bloody nose.
"Whatwas that for?!" he exclaimed.
"You know the rules." Moran stated.
He was careful not to allow his burning, boiling rage bubble to the surface of his face (although he had allowed one eruption in the form that punch—only to deliver a message, though, definitely just to deliver a message…).
But the constant trouble that Jim was causing for his employer was really beginning to bother him.
(…And wasn't that the point..?)
James Moriarty was always so proper, so professional (so perfect)…
…he had worked so hard to build himself up from nothing; always diligent, always careful.
(…always so proper, always so professional, (always so perfect…))
He deserved better than a mosquito (constantly biting at him, sucking his blood and leaving him itching) for a little brother.
"Rules?" Jim repeated, "Thought he said this isn't a game."
"It isn't." Moran affirmed, almost snarling but remaining calm.
"Then why woul—"
"I'm not going to speak to you in symbols, I'm going to tell you what to do straight out and you're going to do it. Stay away from your brother. Don't do anything that might damage the name he's unlucky enough to have to share with you and don't commit anymore crimes and then expect him to come and cover them up for you. Just do what your told and stay away from my employer, Jim...or I'll do more than punch you next time."
('Jim' because Jim didn't deserve to be called 'sir' despite who his brother was.)
Moran looked at Jim, his expressionless face trying to find expression that symbolized meaning in Jim's.
Moran hoped Jim finally understood…
(…but also, part of him hoped that Jim didn't… so that he'd be allowed to punch him again…)
"You know…" Jim started, smiling and sighing, "…that's what I've been doing. All this time …I've been staying away from my brother, James Moriarty…in fact, today has been the first time I've seen him in, hmm, how long was it again?...oh yeah! Twenty years….Twenty years, almost exactly, that I haven't seen my brother in person…although I've never been that great at remembering dates and numbers…"
Even James had a John.
Sebastian Moran.
And yet, he still wanted to prevent Jim from having one of his own.
Molly Hooper.
Not to mention he also wanted to prevent Jim from having his equal.
Sherlock Holmes.
But James should have known better, being a math teacher and all…
As long as Sherlock Holmes had John Watson then Jim Moriarty would need Molly Hooper.
After all, the math was all there.
And mathematical equations need to be balanced.
So that was your ultimate revenge?
Disrupting my class?
Congratulations, you've succeeded!
I could not get my students to focus for the remaining 45 minutes after that scene you caused.
Thank you for that.
####
Oh you're so very welcome, brother.
####
You know the rules.
And you know that anybody could be monitoring these conversations.
The message you just sent has already been permanently and completely deleted.
####
Are you ashamed to be my brother, James?
####
That one too.
####
I'm going to kill you, Abel.
-Cain
####
How's your nose?
####
Hurts.
Kiss it and make me feel all better?
####
Moran told me he probably broke it.
####
Don't worry.
I'm on my way to the hospital.
####
You know the rules.
####
I'm injured, am I not allowed to go to the hospital?
####
There is a more than sufficient private medical facility at one of my contact's headquarters.
I'm sending Moran to give you a ride.
####
Don't brother.
I know a mob doctor and a plastic surgeon that can patch me up good as new.
I can take care of myself, you know.
####
That one too.
####
It was a typo.
I meant 'don't BOTHER'! not 'don't brother'
I swear!
Damn that autocorrect!
####
And that one, as well.
You need to stop playing games now.
####
...oh brother.
####
…
####
What?
'oh brother' ?
It's just an expression!
####
This conversation is over.
####
You're the one who texted me.
####
And you're the one who illegally attended my class without enrolling.
I hope you learned your lesson today.
####
As a matter of fact, I really enjoyed your lesson today…
…and I think I have some contacts of my own that would really enjoy it as well…
####
…
No.
Don't do it.
You know the rules.
…
(several minutes and a missed call later)
...
Answer my call immediately.
…
Where are you?
…
No more games. I will find you.
If you do this, there will be consequences.
…
…
I'm warning you…
####
No, brother.
...I warned you.
Jim was never good with remembering numbers…
…that's why he had to write them down.
Sitting in the back of the cab he typed the long sequence of digits (that he had copied into his notebook from the transparent board) into his smartphone.
Once he was finished, he saved the data and then opened the text messaging application.
He texted:
What do you call a door that can be unlocked by any key?
A whore.
But what do you call a key that can unlock any door…?
Give up?
I'll tell you.
…It's access to all the money, information and anything else you could ever want for in this shitty little world.
Infinite power, omnipotence.
Godhood.
Now who wants the key to the city?
And sent it to every single contact in his phone, including the unnamed number of James Moriarty.
And when the message was sent, Jim chuckled as he slipped his phone into the front pocket of his new university sweatshirt.
Jim then ripped the page with the copied down numbers out of his notebook, crumpled it into a ball, pressed the button to open the window beside him, and threw the paper outside.
He watched it bounce on the street, rolling between tired before falling into the sewer.
The light then turned and the cab sped away, towards St. Bartholomew's hospital.
Professor James Moriarty read the text message.
Although class was long over and he was now alone, James was in his lecture hall, standing in front of the clear board decorated with little black numbers.
Only moments before, he had had been going over these numbers, again and again, carefully making sure they were right.
And they were.
The equation was perfect.
It was just a slight variation on the second perfect equation that James had already 'composed'.
The first solution.
The 'second perfect equation' was the solution to the first problem.
The 'first problem' was the PICA equation.
The 'PICA equation' was the first perfect equation that James had patented.
This 'first perfect equation' created the code that all the PICA security systems, cameras, and connected computers used.
This was what had made James his first million when he was just twenty-one and computers were only just taking off.
He then had invested that money strategically in the greater security and technology industries, and managed his small, but wealthy and powerful PICA company which contracted privately to other corporations and often even for the British government.
(James spent his 'spare time' consulting as an economist for banking firms on the side.)
The 'first solution' was the reflection to the 'first problem'.
The 'first solution' was the solution to the 'first problem'.
This 'second perfect equation' created the code that James used to hack all PICA security systems, cameras and connected computers from anywhere at any time.
This is what had allowed James to spy on whoever he wanted (Jim) and collected and/or delete any data he chose.
(And it helped that through his connections he was able to market his PICA products all over the UK, making most technology in the country accessible to him.)
And now, after almost exactly twenty years work, James had finally finished the third perfect equation.
The 'third perfect equation' was just a slight variation on the 'second perfect equation'.
The only thing it did differently was that instead of just being able to access PICA connected tech, now James was able to hack any kind of computerized device anywhere.
Now that was power.
And now it was worthless.
James re-read the mass text he had received from his brother by no accident.
'Godhood', indeed.
And everyone would want to claim it.
And when everyone had something… that something became nothing.
Jim had been in his classroom that afternoon, Jim had seen the board, seen the numbers…
And there was no doubt in James's mind that Jim had copied them all down.
The perfect equation.
And now Jim had it.
And now it was worthless.
Twenty years of labor, twenty years of life…now worthless.
There was no way to undo what had been done….
…but James could restore balance.
He would have his 'ultimate revenge' on Jim Moriarty.
If his brother wanted a war…then there would be a war.
WELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL...
I hope that wasn't too convoluted and confusing...lol.
If you have any questions, just ask lol and I'll explain... :)
Sorry lol.
And about James...
Somebody had guessed I was gonna use Colonel James Moriarty and I had said they were right but then I decided that Professor just worked better. lol.
My fault, I still consider you right (because you were and are).
And as for the university he works for...
Well, Wikipedia told me Leeds but I decided that was too far away from London and so I went with the university of 'having no name other than university'.
lol.
Again, if you need any explainations ask and I shall explain!