Pyro (Sequel to 'Burning in Water')

Chapter Two: the anaesthetic's wearing off, but your eyes are all i need

The next day, Darcy wrote a simple message on the back of the original paper Jim had sent her, just to piss him off.

'Me too. Come and find me. 

If you can.

D'

The ink of her pen bled a bit, making her writing a bit smudgy, but she wasn't too bothered. He would get the message. She tucked it in her pocket and headed into the town centre. If you could call it that. This far out of the relatively big centre of Cardiff, people didn't tend to bother too much with shopping malls and fancy restaurants. The centre of their village ('a more accurate word than town, I thought,' Darcy later remarked to Moriarty) consisted of a market square left empty on weekdays, a small beaten down chain store with chemicals to spare, a post office, and the mechanic. The latter is where she headed.

'Morning Oliver!' she called into the workshop. There were a couple of cars around, one held up by big hooks in the ceiling. It was from under this red Toyota that Oliver emerged.

'Why, mornin' Darcy! Wasn't expectin' to see you here this soon? Wassamatter with the engine?'

'Nothing, Oliver, it's running perfectly,' she said (although she hadn't checked, and wouldn't need to). 'I just came to pay my invoice.'

'No problem missy. Here, come into my office,' he said, wiping the engine grease of his hands onto a rag tied at his hip. She followed him into a small office, made smaller by the piles of paper covering every surface. She suppressed a small pang of sadness at the familiar landscape as she shuffled some of the stacks around so she could take a seat. She almost expected to be admonished for not bringing home milk, even though the accuser hadn't bothered to ask her. She shook it off, smiling at Oliver as he pulled out his files.

Once she had signed all the documentation she needed to (they were very lax on paperwork here, and would often not even bother to do it), she handed them back to Oliver. He led her out, and as she passed his desk, she placed the neatly folded note on top of them. That should do it.

When she returned home, Darcy was again hit by how lonely the house was. Yes, there were many maleficent criminals after her, who would slit her throat without a second thought - and she had just invited the worst of them all to have tea with her. Perhaps this was a bad idea. Her heart picked up pace. The lights were still off, and she swore she just heard a squeak of a floorboard.

-'Impossible', Moriarty smirked as Darcy retold this bit. 'I am, after all, a criminal mastermind.' 

'The key word being mastermind. You've never done a days work in your life,' Darcy remarked dryly, before recommencing.

She grabbed the knife she kept in her bag, flicking the blade out. Just in case.

She flicked the lights on. 

'Miss me, darling?'