Ash is an actual Sourwolf (ash_cdj) wrote in ficcin_a, @ 2021-01-31 19:40:00 |
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"Bastian! Where did you put my phone?" The reply that came was a sigh and footsteps echoing through the apartment. Sebastian was standing in the doorway of the room, one hand in his pocket while the other held the phone in question. "It's right here. Right where you left it last night. With me." Jim Moriarty grumbled. "I don't pay you to sigh and get smart with me, Bas." "You don't pay me enough, you mean?" That remark had Jim cracking a smirk and holding back a laugh. He went back to looking at his laptop screen, only sparing another glance up to his employee to debate him silently. The other male had been looking for work and a place to live cheap. Thankfully, Jim need a little help and a roommate. And he wasn't going to be like one of these actual businesses that turns away a guy just because of his veteran status. So what if he had PTSD and a drinking problem. The man was still efficient. And the biggest perk of all - Sebastian was great at distracting Molly with his blond hair and muscular body when he needed some peace in the hospital morgue. Oh, and he liked to tell Anderson to fuck off. That was always a laugh. "What do you need it for?" Sebastian asked, approaching and placing the device down. "According to this news article, I'm expecting a call." And almost as if on cue, Jim's cellphone started going off. The Bee Gees' song started playing, his pleasantly upbeat ringtone playing for a moment while he swayed to it. "Letting them think I wasn't waiting," he noted to Sebastian who immediately nodded and moved to sit in one of the three arm chairs in the room. Jim finally answered the phone. "Need something?" "You knew I was going to call," the male voice on the other end stated in a bored tone. "Why didn't you just--" "Call you? No thanks Lestrade. I like to be wanted," he said in a sing song tone. He heard the man sigh on the other end of the phone before saying, "Just come down. We need your opinion." "You mean, on the crime scene with my name on it?" "Yes." "Do you think little ol' me did it?" "That's it. I'm having a unit--" "We'll be there, calm down. Leave the cuffs for the bedroom." Lestrade made a disgusted sound before the line went dead. Sebastian, on the other hand, was chuckling in the armchair. "You're cruel." A mock shocked face and Jim sat the cellphone down, closing his lap top. "Me? No. Never!" --- The crime scene was fun. It was a new mystery to solve and the stakes were as high as ever since some of the crew protecting the crime scene thought it was his doing. But Jim Moriarty had no idea. For once, the world's only consulting detective had little to no idea of the clues. He was actually losing sleep over it. At Sebastian's suggestion to get a change of scenery in attempt to aid his mind, he was in the morgue. He was hunched over a microscope, checking out dirt from the scene that was getting him absolutely nowhere. Molly was talking about...something from where she sat beside him. He glanced up from the microscope, huffing and scrubbing his hands over his eyes. "What what what are you saying, Mol?" She clammed up, frowning silently a few beats before speaking. "You haven't been listening to me..." "No, of course not," he sighed. "It didn't sound important." "Well it is." She pouted briefly, only to stand up and drop a business card in front of him. "I set you up with this guy I met and your date is tomorrow. If you listened, you'd know everything about him. He's sweet." "It's just going to go like the last four. It's good I didn't listen because I don't need to know about another boring human male that's going to waste my--" The door slammed and he looked up from the microscope properly. She didn't even bother to listen to his complaining like she normally did. Jim frowned, figuring she was in a mood, and picked up the business card. It was for a cafe he knew about but had never bothered to visit. On the back of it, was two scribbled lines in pen. Sherr. Monday. 7 o'clock. --- Molly's fascination with trying to set him up was fruitless and Jim didn't expect anything different to come of it. He didn't even bother to dress nice. He half wanted to see what the other man's reaction would be if he showed up looking a mess. His second blind date had done that and it sure made Jim turn his nose up. Really, Jim just planned to poke and nudge little things that his past four dates had done to him. See how other people liked it. It wasn't like he needed to be in any sort of relationship anyways; he was too busy. He showed up to the cafe four minutes after seven, wondering if that was going to irk the date. He fixed his coat and shivered once he got inside. The warmth of the cafe alone was nice but the smell of fresh pastries was even nicer. At least one good thing would come of his blind date, he figured. Scanning around the few patrons, Jim quickly narrowed down who could be his date in question. Sherr. He smirked thinking of the name, not sure what sort of name it even was. An older woman at a front table by herself, reading a gardening magazine. Definitely not her. Three young college aged males sitting around a table towards the back, each with a laptop and scribbling notes. Clearly students, but also he didn't think a date would bring friends. A white haired male and his wife who looked like she was sleeping in the far corner. Definite no. A curly haired male writing something in a small notebook. Alone. It didn't take a high IQ level to know that he must be the one meant for Jim's date. "Sorry, I'm running behind. Work," Jim said as he approached the table. The male glanced up, smiled faintly, and shook his head. "It's fine. I was just going over some notes. Please." He gestured to the seat across from him, shifting in his own seat. "Molly wrote your name is Sherr?" "Sherrinford. Friends call me Sherr." "Sherrinford," Jim repeated, humming thoughtfully. "I like that." "Shall we order?" "Ugh, yes. I'm starved." --- The door shut behind him and Jim leaned against it. "Back from your date, Jimmy?" The only one who was allowed to call him that was Mrs. Hudson. She was peeking out from her kitchen, a hopeful expression on her face. "How'd you know I had a date?" "Oh, Sebastian came and joined me for dinner and tea. He mentioned it." "Uh huh..." Jim pushed off from the door and said, "C'mon up. I'd rather not tell a story twice." He heard her following him up the stairs to second floor where he and Sebastian shared space and worked out of. They found Sebastian in the middle of reading the newspaper, lowering it at the sound of them entering. "I didn't expect you home tonight." Jim stuck his tongue out at Sebastian, making a face at him. "This isn't a one time thing." "You've decided so soon?" Sebastian folded the paper and sat it on the table, a shocked look on his face. "This I have to hear..." "Tell us what he was like, Jimmy." He pulled his coat off, draping it over the desk covered in scrap papers from his studies. The faintest smile grew on his lips as he spoke. "Tall. So tall. I love a tall man. Blue eyes. Curly dark hair. He was quite...soft? Or, compared to the last date he was certainly less loud and aggressive." "What's he do? You haven't said he's boring yet." Sebastian, chin innhand, leaned on the arm of the chair. "He's a writer. I'm seeing him again next week." "And you didn't shag him outright?" "Sebastian!" Mrs. Hudson gasped, appalled by the comment. "It's his habit. He never does a second date." Jim pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket, smirking. "Phone number, too." Shaking his head, Sebastian muttered, "Hell is freezing over." Mrs. Hudson clapped. "Oh Jimmy. He sounds lovely. I do hope we get to meet him." "Shall we bet on it?" "Bas, no," Jim said. "Now no more talking about Sherrinford or my habits. Find me a case or I go back to my experiment with the fingernails." "You have a case, boss." Mrs. Hudson was taking her leave and Jim frowned. "Oh. Right." "Now I know you're in love. You're forgetting your work." Jim narrowed his eyes, grabbed an apple he had on the desk, and chucked it at Sebastian. "It's not love, you twit. I just think he's worth getting to know better." He grumbled, not liking being teased or watching his friend laugh at him. "I'm going to bed. Wake me before ten." |