I sighed as I heard James Moriarty, my boss, and employer shriek from upstairs, "SEBASTIAN MORAN! YOU BETTER HAVE A GOOD REASON FOR THIS, OR I WILL COME AND SSSSKINN YOU!!!"
Expecting something bad, I trudged up the stairs, rifle on my shoulder, and a cigarette in my mouth. I opened Jim's door, and walked into his bedroom. I blinked. He was standing in the center of the room, pointing at dead body on the floor. I breathed in relief, at least it wasn't too bad.
"What the hell is this doing here, Moran!?" he asked, his Irish accent rising in pitch.
"I shot him last night, when he tried to snoop in here. I just forgot to remove the body." I said.
James Moriarty crossed the room, and leaned forward, whispering in my ear. "Get riiiiiid of it, now, or else I will fire you, I do not like finding dead people in my bedroom, do you understand?"
"Yes, boss."
"Good, for a moment I thought you were simple. Take it out of here NOW!"
I did as he asked, rolling my eyes as he stormed out of the room. I had just saved his life, and he wasn't even grateful. Oh well, I still liked my job. James Moriarty was a complicated man, but he was still my best friend. I doubted I was his, though.
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The next day, he had me shoot a man who was getting in his way, I did it, but I also got shot in the leg. I hobbled as fast as I could back to the car, where Jim was sitting. I felt the blood trickling down my leg, and I winced in pain. "I'm...I'm hit boss." I gasped, opening the door.
Jim folded his arms across his chest, shutting his eyes in annoyance. "Walk it off, you big baby."
Aw yeah right, just walk it off, thanks a lot, boss, I thought in my head.
"Don't be rude, Moran."
"What?"
"Stop thinking, it gives all your thoughts away."
Pfft.
Putting pressure on my wound, I slid into the car beside him, still holding my rifle.
So yeah, that's pretty much a summary of my daily life.
