.・゜゜・｡･:*˚:✧｡ 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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
THE RAVEN HAIRED MALE HAD ARISEN LATER IN THE EVENING, the sound of pots clinking down the hall having disturbed his sleep. He looked at where he had laid his head, blushing slightly at the sleeping body of Ren, his chest softly rising and falling. He looked like he hadn't slept in days, something was obviously troubling him.
Carefully, as though not to wake the sleep deprived Scotsmen, Sherlock slipped out of the bed, and out of the room. He tiredly rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he made his way towards the loud noises, cringing as he heard a shriek from John.
"Do you have to be so loud?"
"... Well hello there sleeping beauty, have a nice nap?" John spoke with a smirk, pausing what he was doing to stare at the tall man as he entered the kitchen. His gesture of wiggling his eyebrows as Sherlock approached, had the detective rolling his eyes, a light blush dusting his cheeks.
He grunted, ignoring the question and went to make some tea for himself and the Scot.
A loud groan echoed through the apartment, and grumbling in an accent the pair couldn't understand. The dark haired male ungraciously made his way down the hall. He was met with a cup of steaming tea, giving the male a grateful smile.
"Mornin." His Scottish accent was heavy, John looking a little confused, but it quickly disappeared when he saw Sherlock's smile. The stoic and hard to read male seemed genuinely relaxed this morning and it was a sight that warmed John's heart, with how hard he knew his friend had been working himself recently. "What've you got on today?"
"Break in at the bank." Sherlock announced, sipping at his own tea. Renzo looked to the handsome man, leaning next to him on the table.
"Isn't that the pigs area?" The Scottish accent slipped out in his tired state. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, blushing a little as he saw the look Sherlock was giving him.
"Nothing was taken, just a symbol left." The detective spoke, watching as the young man nodded. "Are you coming with? John is busy today."
Renzo looked back to John, who rolled his eyes at Sherlock's tone, waving to the Scotsmen to show he didn't really care. He turned back to the detective, shrugging as he continued to sip his tea. "Sure, why not."
John had began chuckling to the pair, seeing how close Sherlock had gotten to the information broker, figuratively and literally. The dark haired man was standing right next to the scot, almost leaning on him. Not to mention how the detective would stare at the male, like he was cataloguing the man's features.
--
The pair had entered the bank, and Renzo had almost laughed at the person who greeted them, and how familiar they were trying to act with the detective. They had been brought up to a series of offices, and shown to a oil painting hanging above an enclosed office.
Renzo looked over the painting, recognition flooding his features as looked to the yellow mark. Sherlock noticed the look, and was quick to question him.
"You know what this means?"
"I have a pretty good hunch."
"Just a hunch?"
"Wouldn't be a very good information broker if I didn't know the languages of my city." Renzo smiled to the taller man, patting his shoulder before taking a seat in the office chair. The owner of the office was about to protest before he was shot a glare by the Scottish male.
"Are you gonna tell me what you know?" The Holmes boy asked, looking at the male expectantly. He hoped that their small bond would mean something to the other, maybe enough to give him some freebies in terms of his investigations.
"Where would the fun be in that?" Renzo smiled, though it faltered at the way the detective's face dropped a little. He picked up a pen, spinning it around his fingers as he thought about what he was being asked. He sighed out, leaning his head back against the chair as he spun round once. "Fine, it's a code, used by this new group that's moved into the area, Asian, deadly force... that's all I know."
Sherlock smiled at the gesture, getting closer to inspect the painting. He turned instead to inspect the room. Before long he was imitating a meerkat throughout the large open offices, popping up in different places and looking towards the main office. Renzo couldn't help but laugh at the detective's actions, every now and then making eye contact with him when he found a viewpoint that matched with the painting.
After awhile he was signalled over, finding themselves in the middle of the room. A desk was undisturbed from the rest, having not been touched in awhile.
"Didn't come into work today? Coincidence?" Rens asks, picking up the picture of a man on holiday. He recognised the face, it was the same man who had asked for his help a few days prior.
"No, the message was left for him." Sherls confirmed, looking at the photo in the other's hand. He nudged the smaller boy's shoulder, prompting him to put it down as he walked back over to the man who hired him.
The Scot stared after him, looking briefly back down to the picture on the desk. He considered telling the detective about the meeting he had the other day. The idea shocked him, not particularly liking how much he was willing to do for the Holmes boy. He looked back over to the detective, finding his gaze mapping how his body moved, how his face contorted, how he looked so professional yet that air of softness was still there under the surface.
"Damn Mr Holmes, you really have me wrapped around your finger."
authors note: back again with a poorly timed update! Considering making this a kind of war between Sherlock and Jim for Renzo? Cause they're both hot and shit so yeah
