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Fic: The Tangled Web, PG

Title: The Tangled Web
Character: Jim Moriarty
Genre: Gen (with a teeny bit of slash and het)
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Word count: 807
Rating: PG
Prompt: Meme #3 for
a_muse_meme “It was a dark and stormy night” (Howling wind and lightning, Loving it)
Disclaimer: I don’t own Sherlock or any of its characters.
Notes: Hope you enjoy – comments are love! <3

                The glow of the city and the street lamps passed through the large panes of glass that stood squarely behind Moriarty’s desk draped with the finest burgundy-coloured material money could buy.  Dark clouds had rolled in about an hour prior and now the rain they produced was smearing the sharp edges of the buildings in the distance. Moriarty gave no thought to the rain as the glow from his desktop monitor illuminated him in a ghoulish fashion. He was watching as different stocks of the day ticked by, those he carefully chose rising according to his whim and the others in opposition to his interests crashing to smithereens.

                Moriarty switched then to his e-mail, which were the same talking points over and over again from his underlings.

                “Dear Boss – I have a client who needs her boyfriend and his cat to disappear. Looks like a great investment  . . . the cat is Persian.” Boring. “Dear Boss – the stock broker has been dealt with. Globus Inc. now owns several shares of Exxon.” Nothing new. “Dear Boss – The art has been moved to a secure location. It won’t explode this time.” Better not. ”Dear Boss – Mademoiselle Le’Charte wants to meet you to discuss what she calls ‘personal matters’  . . . your advise is needed in the matter. Thanks.” File that away for later.

                Moriarty sighed and began filling orders for different shipments and arms as the wind began to pick up behind him to a howl. So. Tedious. Didn’t he have minions for this kind of thing? No . . . he never trusted them to handle the machinations of his empire. Case in point – the e-mails.

                With a heavy sigh, Moriarty moved from his desk to a sideboard across the room. He poured himself a generous swig of bourbon into his crystal tumbler. Moriarty stood there, one hand in his pocket as he swirled it around with a frown on his face. Thunder as well as his cell phone began to rumble, both of which piqued his interest. With a glance to the slide he moved swiftly like a specter to the small device. Immediately his spirits lifted when he saw the number of the one whom texted him.

                Boss – the Florence job is complete. Mr. Rosina has been disposed of and Miss Hunter seems to be on board. - SM

                Excellent, Moran. – JM

                I did have an interesting encounter in the market this afternoon, however… - SM

                Oh. Moriarty raised an eyebrow and took a swig of his drink. Do tell – you know how I love a good story. – JM

                A few moments passed and then finally Sebastian’s text pinged in.

                I met a man who used the alias of “Sparrow”. He mentioned that he and an associate of his may be in need of quick, under the grid movement. – SM

                And why should I help this little bird? – JM

                The thunder rumbled closer and Moriarty counted the seconds until the eye of the storm would be nearest to him.

                Let me finish. “Sparrow” told me that he and his friend are some of the best in the business. They’ve apparently ran jobs and created forgeries that could fool even the highest authority. – SM

                Touchy, touchy. ;) Sounds promising, Moran, but I shall have to see this work for myself. – JM

                Of course. There is a catch, however. – SM

                There’s always a catch. Have at it then. – JM

                The glow of the cell phone reflected off the tumbler as Moriarty stood archaically against the panes, rooted to the spot for an answer.

                I did a little bit of digging and I believe his partner is a CI for America. FBI. – SM

                Well, that clearly won’t work then. Get rid of them both. I don’t want my information out there, Moran. – JM

                Moriarty took a frustrated gulp of a small amount of his drink.

                Trust me on this, boss. They’re running. They don’t want to be found. I think this guy could be a good addition. – SM

                A long period went by as Moriarty just stared out the window, watching the rain slide by and the thunder starting to be paired with flashes of lightning.

                How’s the weather in Florence, Sebastian? – JM

                Fine. Sunny. – SM

                A bit more time went by as a new text beeped onto Moriarty’s phone.

                Are you going to give me an answer or not, Jim? Are we helping out these guys? – SM

                We’ll see. He paused again as a crack of white light went by. Make sure to bring an umbrella when you get back. Don’t want to see you soaked like a wet dog. – JM

                Silence had fallen between the both of them as another loud crack of lightning illuminated the outline of Moriarty’s frame – tumbler in one hand and cell phone in the other. Moriarty really did like thunderstorms.


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