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Before the chapter begins, I want to thank all you little criminals who left nice comments on my last chapter! This chapter is dedicated to you guys: @Holliebee12 @johnlockcrazythought @thiazura @raindroplets12 @MarielLorien @Curley_Wirley @Willow_Moriarty @ScottlynB THANKS!!!
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Chapter Twenty-Three
Punctured Lungs
Jim's P.O.V.
Hurriedly returning from the bright, white hospital rooms that smelt distinctly of Ammonia, I ran outside to clear my nose of the strong, sickening chemicals. My lungs and heart were tiring, yet I still felt compelled to keep going. Rounding the corner of the old, brick building, I burst through the doors and kept running until I came upon the dark, freezing room Sebastian's dead body lay in.
He sat there, drowning in a pool of his own chilling blood. His dead eyes stared endlessly into the distance while his body lay limp, a much more daunting sight than the rest of the intimidatingly silent, frozen premises. Sebastian had always been a thief, even before I taught him everything else he knew.
I removed his black and white sneakers, feeling around inside and finding a switchblade concealed within the rubber sole of his right shoe. I'd always disagreed with the idea of casual clothes being better than a well-fancied Westwood Suit, especially in the presence of your enemy. It was one of the first few things I'd taught him.
Hmm....the little shit didn't listen worth a damn, did he?
I continued my search more thoroughly up his socks and pant legs, where a crowbar was hidden below the seam stretching down the length of his dark, blue jeans. There was an apparent bulge in the left pocket of his dark chocolate brown, almost black leather jacket.
Maybe I'm the one... Maybe I'm the one who is a schizophrenic psycho, yeah....
The song erupted from the bulge as I slowly recovered Sebastian's vibrating and ringing phone. 'Jamie' I read the caller ID aloud.
I tapped the green call button as I swiftly brought the phone up to my ear. "Sir," an American accent greeted me.
"Who is this?" I asked in a dark voice and a small gasp escaped the man's lips.
"...who are you?" He questioned back.
I rolled my eyes.
Amateur....assuming that he's even a criminal at all. Everyone knows if someone else, other than who you're expecting to pick up, answers your call, you don't reply, hang up, and possibly break the phone if it has no other use to you, but never...NEVER reply! It just gives the other person more time to recognize or memorize your voice....
"I asked you first," I reasoned.
The man scoffed. "Jamie," he responded simply.
"Hmm....Jamie?" I inquired with intrigue.
"James Moriarty, I presume?"
"You know, you don't sound like a Jamie?" I mentioned, blowing off his question entirely.
"Oh, I don't, don't I? Then what do you propose I sound like?"
I paused. "You sound like a lying bastard!" I seethed. "Who better tell me right now how you know Sebastian Moran and where is Carter or I will--"
"No, no," Jamie snapped. "You don't talk to me like that. If you want to threaten me....you come find me....and say it to my face.... I suggest you start searching."
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Loving the Insane (Moriarty Fanfic)
Fanfiction"Punishment often increases feelings of estrangement and the power of resistance" When Carter Jones is acquainted with the infamous James Moriarty, she somehow commiserates with the criminal's bad side. Little did she know that his attempts to keep...
