Fleeting Impressions | J.M.

11: dancing with a criminal

"I almost forgot," James takes out his phone and headphones from his pocket, plugging them in and scrolling for a moment before he hands me one of the ear buds while putting in the other one.

The sound of Queen blasts into my head and I nod along with the beat of 'Don't stop me now'. We link arms and James leads us forward.

This is not the first time I've been to the Tower of London, but it's different at night. We head into a side door that was propped open by a guard who went out for a smoke. Once inside, we stroll to the camera room.

I become nervous when I see a guard inside, watching the cameras. One was even trained on the corridor we just came down and I wonder how he didn't see us.

James walks right in, pulling a protesting me behind him. I rather not watch his kill a man just so we can sneak around a tower at night. But that never happens.

"Hey Georgie," James sing-songs to the man at the computers and he jumps in fright.

"Bloody! You scared me Mr. Moriarty," he stutters out when he turns around to face the Napoleon of Crime. Obviously intimidated by James, even in street clothes.

"I'm just here to take my girl around, make sure no one interferes, yeah?" He asks, or more like demands. The order is clear in his voice and Georgie nods rapidly.

James leads me back out.

"Mr. Moriarty?" I ask teasingly.

He pulls me closer. "He's just one of my empire. He knows not to go against my word." His shrug seems innocent but I could hear the threat behind the words.

"You call your criminal organization an empire?" I mockingly question. He's so full of himself.

"Of course. Why else would I need a queen," he winks at me and the song changes to a more classical playlist. Chopin drifts into my ears and I pause a moment to appreciate the music, closing my eyes, my head subconsciously drifts side to side like a racking baby. The notes flow through my head.

I open my eyes again to a wonderstruck Irish man. A small smile across his lips.

"You appreciate my music taste, I'm guessing?"

"Yes, Chopin is one of my favorites," I hum softly to the melody.

We walk down another corridor and around a few more corners.

"I always love a good composer. What do you think of Rossini?" James implores.

"Duh," I laugh. "'The Thieving Magpie' is one of my favorites."

If anything, I dare say my words have left him in a daze. "We think more alike than I once thought, dear Beretta."

We venture up winding staircases, gaze at weapons, comment on the terrible art and laugh at how our voices travel down the halls of stone. Moriarty does an amazing evil laugh.

And eventually, we find ourselves in a room like no other, one that contains the Crown Jewels of England.

Standing right in front of the glass, so close but still not being able to touch. We stand side by side, still never separated too far from the headphones that tether us together. He holds my hand now again.

"I broke the glass once. Stole the Crown Jewels but never took them from this room," James tells me, staring straight ahead at the treasure.

"Except the top of the staff," I point out, motioning toward the golden stick without its very top. The cross sitting in my bedside table at my house. "How did you do it anyway?"

James turns to me with a smirk. "Oh it was one of the best days in the world," he throws his head back and shouts into the empty room. "I opened the vault in the Bank of England, broke into the Pentonville  Prison all with the click of my phone and some willing participants. And while that was happening, I was here, sitting on this thrown and waiting to be arrested. They took quite awhile."

My mind reels at the fact that he said he broke into all those places. Some of the most high security buildings in the world don't even seem to phase this man. And he just broke through bullet proof glass and sat on a thrown.

I knock on the glass in front of me, standard solid and bulletproof. "Did you have a bomb?"

"No just a diamond," he shook his head with a smile, watching the intrigue turn into confusion and then into realization play out on my face.

"That's genius," I breathe out.

"Do you want some gum?" He asks randomly, I take it without a second thought and pop it into my mouth, him doing the same.

"So how did you not get caught?" I ask, chewing the minty gum between my question.

"Oh I got caught," he notices the disbelief on my face and closes my mouth with a single finger. "I just rigged the jury into voting not guilty."

I think for a second. "So, theoretically, you could never be charged with anything."

"Theoretically," he parrots back. "But it's gets a little boring. Knowing I have all the power and will get away with anything I want. No one to challenge me."

I frown at the melancholy in his voice. How sad. And here I thought I was living in a world full of goldfish. To him, a criminal mastermind and dangerous psychopath, even geniuses are child's play to him.

"You're just too smart, James. It's sad that you haven't found anyone that's on your level."

"Some have come close to trying. But in the end, I win every time," he shakes his head at the ground. I step in front of him with a mock glare.

"I won remember?" I smirk up at him, the advantage of being 15 centimeters shorter than him.

"I let you win," he grabs my waist to pull me into his chest. "Plus, you cheated."

I hit him lightly, "I don't cheat." I pout and then sway side to side with the music. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I dance us gently to the sounds of classical music. James doesn't need much coaxing. He takes the lead, stepping us the right and then to the left, back and forth. But our chests never stop touching.

"My queen?"

I gravitate toward his voice. I hum to show I'm listening.

"Do you want your crown now?"