Work Text:
Jim hums happily, content with his new play things. Irene Adler is a most amusing find. He avails himself of her services once out a curiosity. He finds her rather to be like eating lamb. He can tell when he's eating good lamb, but that doesn't mean he enjoys it. She's not his kind, though he likes her style. She'll be useful. She's smart too. He likes smart people. They're still normal and boring but at least they're a little less dull. She's a little beside normal too. That makes her a little bit more interesting. She'll be fun bait for little virgin Sherlock Holmes too.
Jim turns up the music, leaving it on shuffle. "Ah, Andrew, you are a fine man," he murmurs when the player reaches "Heaven on their Minds." He'll listen to anything so long as it's not boring. That means Jim Moriarty has no definitive taste in music. He stretched back, just enjoying the music as his thoughts go in a hundred different directions at once.
When he thinks about it, he doesn't have a definitive taste in anything. Sometimes all he wants his a rare steak, and sometimes all he wants is Lucky Charms, and sometimes he only wants a rare dish he's never even tasted before and has to murder rare animals to try. It's the same with people. Sherlock Homes is definitely a favorite play thing. He's fun and interesting. Sebastian's good too, though Sebastian is nothing like Jim or Sherlock Holmes. Yet Jim has no interest in John Watson.
Irene Adler seemed like she'd be right but Jim's alley. She's brilliant in her own way, smart enough to not be dull, and came up with most of the plan on her own after she was able to avail herself of his recourses. Yet Jim had no interest in her at all. But Molly Hooper… Yes, that was who he should focus on now.
Molly Hooper was a new variable. She was connected to Sherlock Holmes but not completely boring which was why he'd picked her in the first place. The fact that she'd broken up with him intrigued her. Possibly he should want to kill her for it… but no, he wanted to give her exactly what she asked for. She didn't want Jim from IT, the persona he'd created just for her. She liked it when he slipped into Jim Moriarty. That was what she thought she wanted. He'd happily oblige.
He tuned back into the world when he realized his toes were tapping "Smiley Faces" his brain supplies as the name of the song. He never could forget the name of any song, ever. He could never forget a movie title, a book titles, the name of a show or its episodes. He could detail for anyone exactly what happened in every episode of FRIENDS and what actors showed up and probably give a fair good one-man performance of each episode as well. But what was the point? There was none, it was just booooring.
He tuned back out again as "Smiley Faces" turned into "Attacked by Snakes", focused back on Molly. He liked her gall. He couldn't help the very tiny flicker of affection he felt for the ridiculous woman who dragged him into a passionate and dominating kiss just to prove a point. It was cute, adorable, just like how she pictured Jim from IT. She was what he'd been making her into when she suddenly turned on him. He hadn't planned for it, but that didn't make him angry. It was interesting. There was a wonderful glory in everything in a plan going perfectly well. Yet, if Jim was being honest, he liked it best when the plan screwed up completely and he had to fix it all on the fly. There was more challenge to that than to a perfect plan.
"Seb!" Moriarty crooned, realizing the Glee cover of "Maybe This time" that Molly had uploaded to his ipod just to bother him had come on.
"Yeah, Boss?" Sebastian asked, walking out with a book of Russian poetry (actually in Russian) in his hand. Sebastian could be so cute sometimes, trying to educate himself, especially when it was such a struggle for him.
"I'm sending you away for a week?"
"What should I pack?" Sebastian asked, dog-earing his page and shutting his book.
"Hmmm… not sure, whatever you need for St. Petersburg this time of year," Moriarty said. He could see Sebastian's eyebrow go up, guessing (correctly) that Jim was just pulling this off the top of his head.
"Fine," Sebastian said. "Something specific I need to do?"
"Just make some trouble," Moriarty said, smirking. "I know you can."
"Fine boss, but you make the reservations, and I'm not going to be jammed into the back again," Sebastian said, walking to his room.
"It's safe in the back!" Jim shouted like he actually cared about Sebastian's safety.
It took a tiny bit more work than Jim wanted to do to get Sebastian on a plane. Jim had toyed with the idea of putting Sebastian on a super packed plane, but decided against it. Pissing Sebastian off would be more trouble than it was worth (his grumbling was very annoying) and Sebastian would know not to take the first class seat as anything but what it was.
Jim didn't care, Sebastian could be more moral than he pretended her was, and Jim didn't want Sebastian's annoyed looks around at him going and deciding to play with the good Doctor. The only problem with Sebastian being gone was that no one was around to give Jim an opinion on his outfit. It was a fleeting annoyance, but Jim still didn't like it.
He finally decided on the black suit. It never went bad with anything after all. If Molly Hooper wanted to see who she really was, then she would. It was very, very easy to set up this little play date too. He'd simply sent her a few text messages from the cell phone of a man he knew she was attracted to in the upper levels.
He finds a nice restaurant and a booth at a place where the serve exceptional orange juice and he doesn't have to call it "apelcenovae sok" in order to get it. Besides that, a glass of OJ is less expensive in London than in Moscow, and much more likely to not be in pathetically small portions.
"So," Molly says when she sees him. She sits down at the booth, looking uncomfortable. Smart girl.
"Sorry to interrupt your date," Jim says in his dull voice.
"No you're not," she says. She examines him now, the slicked back hair, the suit, the control he has over himself and everyone in the room (whether they know it or not). She's intrigued. Isn't that cute.
"No, I'm not," Jim says. The waiter comes over with the juice. She offers Molly a smile, a real one, but Jim gets a fake smile. She knows he's trouble and he imagines she's the type who offers any girl with a bruise the number of a sex abuse hotline.
"So," Molly says again, looking around for a moment before looking back at him. "I'm curious, I think."
"You think?" He asks, smirking a bit behind his glass.
"Yes, yes, a binary state," she said before he can even make the joke that he had no plan of making. "I'm," she paused and licked her lips. "I'm wondering what you'd do if there was no one here."
"You're hoping for kinky sex?" he asked, laughing when she blushed. She was predictable.
"I was hoping for… I'm not sure really… I'm just curious."
"I can make us be alone," he said.
"No, there's good orange juice here," she said. She smiled when he quirked and eyebrow. "You told me about this place before, before muttering about something in Russian."
"Hm, interesting," Jim says.
"What?" she asks.
"No one ever observes anything."
"I don't observe things," she said with a blush like Sherlock Holmes had complemented her.
"You don't, but you almost do, which I imagine is something of a miracle," he said sipping his juice.
"May I still call you Jim?"
"It is my name," he said, looking back at her. "What, you thinking of coming back so quickly?"
"You haven't given me a reason to yet," she said. She wanted a reason. Jim found himself laughing.
"Hooper, you're twisted in all the wrong ways."
Molly smiled. "Maybe, but it's never bothered me before. Please give me a reason."
"Do you want me to tell you that I will never lie to you, because I'm not going to," he told her.
"That's okay," she said.
"It was the deal breaker before."
"It's who you are, isn't it?" she asked. He didn't answer that.
"So, what does the great Molly Hooper want from little old me?" he asked with a smirk.
"A promise," she said. Her hand flexed, moving toward his before pausing and moving back to her lap.
"A promise?" he asked with a smirk.
"Promise me that you won't… well, try and have me do anything to Sherlock, or give anything up about him."
"Oh please," Jim said, rolling his eyes. "Like I need you to get either of those things."
"Then it'll be an easy promise, won't it?" she asked.
"You don't have any idea what you're getting into Hooper," Jim cooed, reaching out and taking her hand, kissing the back. "But I promise." He liked the way she smiled when he said that.