The Devil's Charm (James Moriarty X Reader)

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"Those who can make you believe absurdities, can make you commit atrocities." - Voltaire

"Bye, Tom!" you called over your shoulder as you walked toward the exit of the pet store. On your way you made sure to duck into the dog accessories aisle to look at all the beautiful expensive collars.

You loved animals dearly, so it was fun to work in a pet store where customers would occasionally bring their dogs. The store didn't sell actual live animals; the owner of the business thought it was completely inhumane to keep animals in the glass boxes all day, and while you could certainly see her point, you did, very slightly and secretly, yearn to sell puppies or kittens or rabbits or other cute animals. It would make the job more enjoyable, but working here still succeeded in taking the edge of your sadness garnered by a pet-free life - the flat you had recently moved into here in London didn't allow pets.

With one last wistful stroke of a particularly gorgeous black-and-white collar with a bell, you walked out of the shop to your car on the edge of the concrete footpath. The clouds were clearing to reveal a pretty pink sunset that made the parked cars glow, and an icy wind blew over you and numbed your face as the screeching of tyres, blaring of horns and incessant chatter of strangers surrounded you.

Nose stinging with cold, you pulled up the collar of your black jacket and hurried to your small silver car, listening to the rustle of leaves from the one tree planted nearby on the footpath. Your finger felt numb with cold as you pressed the button on your keys to unlock your car.

With a sigh of relief you pulled open the door and slid onto the seat, smiling a little at the black-and-white seat covers adorned with pawprints. They had been expensive when you bought them a year ago, but they worked well in cheering you up.