At some point, Jim Moriarty decided he would like to be a king.
Not a king in the sense that he would have control over the losing of limbs and ultimately lives as well as the entire treasury of the town, though he bet what he was wearing right now that he could do that better than any man. No, Jim wanted to be a king in that he wanted the idolization that every king was adorned with. He wanted to be beloved by his people, but more specifically, one other person; his queen. Jim smiled as he imagined Sebastian’s face if he ever heard those words.
Jim felt like that now, perched atop that throne like a bird of prey embellished with the crown, placed so gingerly upon his head. He waved the scepter around bashfully, the broken glass tinkling as he rearranged his feet. God ordinary people were boring, and slow. How long had he been sitting here, waiting? Posing was exhausting, he noted. If Sherlock were a police officer this would’ve been much more exciting.
But then again being a freelance is what gave him his utterly bold deductions – liberty will be the death of us, Jim chuckled.
I LOVE IT WHEN I COME UP WITH STUFF AND PEOPLE FIC IT. 😀 😀 😀
Can’t Beat a Corley: Crouching Tiger, Hidden Moran
Published
Lady Karasu 