InsaneJournal

WHO: James Moriarty & an npc!local
WHAT: Taking care of business. What? You seriously thought the most brilliant criminal mastermind ever had actually turned over a new leaf?
WHEN: Around 9PM
WHERE: Warehouse district.
RATING: PGish? (vague mentions of npc death)
STATUS: Complete; narrative

Just because Jim had been quiet as of late didn't mean he hadn't been busy. Yes, it was true he had received some sort of epiphany during the enforced honesty that had befallen the city. He even liked to think that, because of it, he and Sherlock had a far greater understanding of one another. However the fact remained that Jim Moriarty was a criminal mastermind and he would always be a criminal mastermind. A few weeks of bonding with his arch nemesis wasn't going to change that. He wasn't certain anything would change that; he was, however, very certain he didn't particularly want to change. He was good at what he did and he was providing a much needed service for the community. Most wouldn't agree with him on that last one, of course, but Jim knew that most people were idiots. They didn't understand the complexities that went into custom-tailoring crimes for others. They didn't realize that, without his involvement, a great many of his customers would simply go on bloody killing sprees that would wind up costing many more lives. Of course, Jim personally didn't give a damn about the body count. People died. It's what they did. However it was an interesting angle to play things at, particularly when dealing with some bleeding heart that was on the fence and just needed a manipulative push in the right direction to come around to his way of thinking. It didn't happen often but it had, in the past, and more than paid off when it did.

At the moment, though, he didn't have any bleeding hearts to worry about. In fact, Jim didn't have any worries at all. A strange statement to make considering he was currently standing in an abandoned factory, the smell of dust and filth stinging his nose and all but clinging to his immaculate, perfectly pressed suit, while he was staring down the business end of a gun being waved in his face by a man who truly had nothing to lose. And as if the statement of having no worries in this situation was odd enough, next Jim had to go and do something to step it up a notch or two.

He smiled.

It was a lazy sort of smile, just dangerous enough on the edges that you had to be sharp to catch it. Which, the man currently threatening his life was certainly not smart. In fact, he was rather an imbecile and Jim was, quite frankly, growing tired of his ramblings.

"Mr. Clark, kindly do shut up," he all but snapped. Catching the man by surprise, Jim's smile grew ever so slightly. "There," he continued smoothly, "much better. Now. If you'll kindly pay attention, you will see that I did not, in fact, come alone as you seem to believe I have." He tipped his head toward the man's chest, chuckling lightly at the sharp intake of breath indicative of his latest target finally noticing the red laser points splayed across the front of his shirt.

"You can't-" The man stopped, knowing full well he could, and instead gave a tremble before trying again. "I wasn't going to shoot you, Mr. Moriarty, honest I wasn't! I just got scared. You said to-"

"I know what I said," Jim cut him off with a shake of his head and slight 'tsking' sound. "Unfortunately, you didn't want to listen, Mr. Clark. One week, I told you. Simply answer whatever questions the police ask you for one week. Stick with the story I provided you with for one week." There was a brief pause, a moment of silence, before Jim erupted with a shrieked, "YOU DIDN'T EVEN LAST ONE DAY!"

Mr. Clark gasped loudly, the gun he was holding falling to the ground with suddenly nerveless fingers. "I tried!" he objected, lower lip quivering pitifully. "Bless me, I tried! They kept saying they had witnesses, though, and I thought-"

"And that," Jim interjected smoothly, dark eyes shining dangerously as he slid his hands calmly back into his pockets, "was your gravest error. You thought, Mr. Clark. You came to me with a problem, I provided you with a very simple solution, and rather than listen you decided to think." He stopped, tilted his head a bit as he peered up at the man, then sighed and shrugged.

"And now you're dead," he said lightly, spinning abruptly on his heel and stalking away. The muffled sounds of gunshots filled the air and there was the tell-tale thud of a body hitting the ground. Jim, however, never bothered to look back. He simply continued his stroll, out of the building, to the car that was waiting for him. He had a few more stops to make before returning to his flat for the evening. With any luck they wouldn't all end up quite as eventful as this one. Then again, when dealing with idiots such as the locals of Colligo, the odds weren't precisely in his favour. But still, he decided as the driver pulled away from the building without a word, there were a few good picks out there. Ones being primed who, just as soon as they were ready, would be quite interesting pawns in the latest game he was planning he could all but guarantee was going to get the attention of one Sherlock Holmes.