the king's crown | j. moriarty (18+)

forty

"DID YOU GET any of the cake, then?" A soft grin parted Jim's lips, his right hand wrapped within the brunette's hair, her head against his ribs.

"Yes, actually." She murmured, lifting her hand to the arm resting on his leg, deciding to play with his fingers as she lay on her back, watching their hands intertwine above her head.

"Was it nice?" His voice was rough from how light he was speaking, the hushed tone of his words scratching his throat as they left.

"I suppose." Jim watched her while they rested against her sofa, and all of a sudden he was overwhelmed by the urge to bundle her up in his arms.

"I love you." He felt Elizabeth freeze in his hold and after a moments silence, her face appeared in a mess of her hair.

"What?" The air in her lungs was missing, and she squinted, leaning back a little to look him over. This was James Moriarty, the famous criminal, responsible for countless deaths across London - across the globe - and she found herself quickly grabbing his hands to look at the blood on them. Somehow, they were cleaner than hers. She frowned, it was odd - him being here with her for hours on end, didn't he have work to do? Elizabeth went to say something else but a familiar ringtone pulled her off the sofa until she found her Mobile on the counter in her kitchen.

"You took my keys." She heard a chuckle,

"Sorry about that."

"No, you're not." She clicked the standby button and saw an unknown number across the screen.

"Sherlock Holmes was there, I figured you'd realise you had forgotten them eventually, and come back and then I could kill him."

"I told you to leave them alone, Jim!"

"Tomato, tomarto."

"Jim." She hissed, looking at the back of the sofa. She couldn't see his face, but she knew he was indifferent, with a small smile pulling on his lips. She saw the glimpse of his hand as he waved it lazily, and the cocky Irish tone that brought warmth to her cheeks when it fluttered from his lips.

"Are you going to answer that?" With a frustrated sigh, she cleared her throat and put the phone to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Elizabeth?" She knew the voice, but convinced herself she'd misheard, she tried to chuckle but it turned into a cough.

"This is she."

"I need your help." She coughed again.

"What?" Elizabeth could hear fumbling down his end of the phone, exhaustion crippling his words,

"I need your help with something. As soon as possible please, it's important." Hesitantly, she looked to the man she could only see with his back to her, and then to the buzzing tv screen ahead of him whose speakers were becoming quite unreliable and fuzzy. She pulled at her lower lip,

"...Why?" She heard a sigh and Greg Lestrade's voice short with frustration, not aimed at her, but it made her aware whatever was going on was serious. Of course it was serious, he came to her of all people. Her eyes flickered to James Moriarty again, and she thought of how imperative any information about the mass criminal had been to Scotland Yard in previous years. What else could possibly squeeze out such a panicked reaction from D.I Lestrade and his superiors? Elizabeth tugged at her lip again until she hissed with a sharp pain signalling the ripping of delicate skin. She went to ask James if he'd done anything recently, anything he'd forgotten to mention to her. But he was actually laying low now, truly - it was untrusting for her to ask him, especially when she'd comply with Greg's recent suspicions of his being alive and all.

"Why?" He repeated, "Because I need someone who's disconnected from all this-" Elizabeth could hear him waving his hands about the mess that would be his desk and running his hands over his face. "I need someone who's clever, I need someone who has no sentimental involvement," Elizabeth tasted the blood of the dead in her mouth, and cleared her throat for the third time as his voice stung her ear, "Someone who will do what they need too, when they need to do it. I know you're not special forces Elizabeth, I know you're not even an officer but Jesus- I'm desperate. I've seen you with a gun- I, I need someone I can trust."

Elizabeth was baffled, her balance altered and she took a step back, running her finger along the white counter top and expecting it to reveal a thick layer dust she had ignored, but there was nothing, and she made a little hum of surprised approval. She had to find her voice before she could respond and even after that weak distraction, she could only offer him a stiff breath of air.

"That all sounds like Sherlock." She cringed immediately, knowing Jim would be looking at her by now, or at least his attention spiked. Greg made a noise after the awkward silence that followed and Elizabeth found she looked to the heavens for strength.

"Not so much." Elizabeth didn't understand his empty response, and slightly wanted Sherlock to go instead, or even with her, to whatever it was Greg needed. She couldn't say no though, even if she knew she must, how could she after what he had done for her? She knew she owed him life itself. A ragged breath shook her and she sighed, squeezing her eyes shut. She didn't want to be brought back to her sins so soon after they had been committed, but she decided she didn't have such a luxury.

"Okay." She muttered quietly, "Where shall I meet you?" From where Greg was, he looked to his phone and mulled over his options once more, did he need to drag her into this? After all she was arguably a pedestrian and he could be easily demoted - even prosecuted, if something were to happen to her. He looked at the files in front of him and grunted. Yes. Otherwise he wouldn't have called.

"Ill come for you, i'll be about two hours."

"No, it's okay." Elizabeth was impressed by how natural that response sounded, with James pretending his glare wasn't fixed on her while she spoke, her reactions where hard to control. "I'll come to you."

"Okay." Was all he said and then, "I'll text you the address. Don't be late, eh? Might have another body on our hands." He didn't mean it the way she took it, but it suddenly came down to Greg Lestrade to end the call on her behalf, because Elizabeth's phone stayed close to her ear for a while after his words had ceased. Eventually she felt herself put the phone on the counter, and she turned back to a curious looking Moriarty. Elizabeth walked back to the sofa and perched on his lap.

"Hey." She was still absent looking when he spoke, so Moriarty cupped her face and turned it to him. "Hey, should I be worried?" His smile made her smile, and she swallowed the guilt Greg had sent over to her.

"It was Greg Lestrade." She almost debated not telling him as she let the words escape, "he wants my help with something." She felt his arms snake her waist.

"If he's using what happened against you-"

"No, no. He isn't, he just asked if I could assist him with something, that's all." But Elizabeth couldn't look at Jim because she was using the 'incident' against herself instead, and probably always will. So she tried to dismiss his worries as he settled back into the sofa, looking up to her with a sceptical apprehension.

"Ah?" He said, running his fingers down her spine.

"I want to help, I should." Jim made a noise and knew it wasn't his place to stop her, not since their argument and current circumstance. He didn't know what else to say, so settled with:

"Okay, then."

"I need to be there in about two hours."