.・゜゜・｡･:*˚:✧｡ james moriarty
A new life. A new city. And a hell of a lot of trouble.
Renzo, otherwise known as Rens Drake, is a Scottish boy, recently moved to London for a fresh start. However, with a criminal lifestyle, will pickpocketing informat...
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RENNY.
What an odd nickname I have.
Why would anyone in their right mind call their child Renny.
I have to admit, however that the nickname is rather tolerable in comparison to my unfortunate given name.
Renny is simply a couple of sounds, a few letters from my given name with a cute little twist to the end; my parents always wanted the most unique names. What joys.
With a bounce in my step, I shamelessly dance along to the music pounding in my ears, not caring who on this busy London street sees me.
Simple Minds, one of my favourite bands, playing the outro to The Breakfast Club.
Seeing my destination, just over the main street, I smile to myself. Southbank, by the Thames, a beautiful place to set up.
Switching off my music and unplugging my headphones, I carefully place them in my bag, my phone in my pocket. Pulling out a small black device, I attach it to the waist band of my skinny jeans, pinning the small microphone to the centre of my burgundy hoodie. Taking off my glasses, and flicking a switch on the small black box at my waist, a grin spreads across my face.
"Hello London!" I beam, my voice amplified by the mic. Many startled passersby turn in my direction, confusion and shock evident on their faces.
However, my voice is soon followed by cheers from the bustling crowd. My regular magic shows, being quite the hit in London.
"How are you all on this fine day?" I ask, not expecting exact replies. The cheering grows louder in the slightest, and people begin to settle down, eager to see the tricks I have in store for them today.
"Now, I see you all here, many of you on your way to work, or home, but no doubt all of you on your way to somewhere, am I right?" A chorus of 'yeahs' follow my question.
"Well aren't you lot just a ray of sunshine. No no, I understand, it's Monday, who wants to be out at this hour in the morning? I mean, wouldn't it just be easier if we could think about a place we want to go, and appear there?" The crowds excitement begins to grow in anticipation of my trick.
Jim's Pov
I can't believe I'm going back to that place, that reporter lady, Kitty I think it was, is annoying enough; not to mention desperate. Alas. She has to think I'm the innocent Robert Brooke in order for my plans to work. Before I can officially start this game with Sherlock, I need to find a missing piece, I need something to assure that he comes out of this broken!
"Well aren't you lot just a ray of sunshine. No no, I understand, it's Monday, who wants to be out at this hour in the morning? I mean, wouldn't it just be easier if we could think about a place we want to go, and appear there?" A young dark haired man asks the rhetorical question through a small microphone. My moment of confusion vanishes after realising that he is the street performer London is currently raving about.
He is said to be quite good, and the crowds love him because his acts normally end with him giving away money. Although it looks like he is collecting tips at this one, due to a black hat sat strategically on the corner of the bench he has elevated himself on.
"Yes! You guessed it! I'm going to make something appear out of thin air!" His Scottish accent rings above the crowd, out if place among the usual London chatter. Curious, I walk over and watch his performance.
"Wala!" He shouts, holding up a card that he flicked from his sleeve. "Not impressed? Tough crowd, tough crowd. Alrighty then! Let's turn this up a notch, how about something alive?"
At the sound of this the crowd cheer in agreement, indicating that they want to see. The brunette smiles and points to a man in the crowd.
"You!"
"Me?" The man asks clearly in a state of confusion.
"Your hat, take it off." He replies, and sure enough, when the man takes his hat off, a white dove flies from atop his head.
The crowd cheer, clearly amused, but he doesn't seem too happy with their reaction.
"Okay then, one more try. Wait why don't I just teleport myself? That'd be something to watch!" The crowd look on in doubt, the performer grabs a crimson silk cloth from his bag. He then opens the neatly folded cloth, and throws it into the air above him.
Astonishingly, when the cloth hits the ground the male is nowhere to be found.
"Impressed yet?" The thick Scottish accent sounds from behind the crowd, I turn around, along with the crowd, and find him casually sat atop the railings to the Thames. He appears to have already gathered all his supplies.
"Thanks you London for being an amazing audience once again! And of course! Your reward!" He motions for the crowd to split as he does a finger gun motion towards the black hat on the bench, upon 'pulling the trigger' the hat erupts and many £10 notes fly out; probably around £5,000.
The cheers of the crowd are deafening as people attempt to grab as much as they can. When I look again, the man is gone; or so I thought.
He exits through the crowd, as they are to busy to notice. And also to busy to notice his hands slipping into their pockets and taking their wallets and purses.
Instinctively, I reach for my own pocket, only to be shocked when my hand feels nothing amongst the fabricated void.
