Prompt- Continuation of PT. 1
Warning- language
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His brown eyes darted around the quaint café. Finally, they rested on you. He sipped his coffee rather loudly, watching your reaction. You tapped your fingers on the table, looking anywhere but in front of you.
Finally, he placed the cup on the table. He took a bite of his biscuit, chewing obnoxiously and open-mouthed. You cleared your throat, still not looking directly at the man. He, though, was watching you intently, amused by your reactions.
"I want you to listen very carefully. I am not the man everyone thinks I am. Sometimes I just get bored by normal day-to-day life. I want a thrill!" he said, smiling a scarily wide smile. You gulped, holding your head up, but not meeting his eyes.
"Look at me!" He exclaimed, grabbing your knee under the table. You flinched at the sudden contact.
You looked into his eyes for the first time since you had sat down. His ebony irises held anger in them. You became aware of the lingering hand on your knee.
His hand was cold and smooth, but gripping tightly onto your kneecap. His fingers dug into your flesh. You were sure there would be bruises later, but you were unconcerned with that as of now.
In the moment, you just wanted to get as far away from this man as possible, but you knew that the task would prove impossible.
"I want you to go to an address for me. Drop off a little package at the door," he said. If you had been under different circumstances, you would have told him to get his lazy arse up and do it himself, but this man scared the bloody shit out of you, and he would fuck you up if you rejected his instruction.
"Alright," you agreed quietly. He smiled wickedly, removing his hand from your knee.
"If you don't deliver the package, I'll burn you," he said, rising from the seat and leaving a £5 note on the table.
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Leaving the café, you took a deep breath.
You slowly walked to 221B Baker Street, holding a small brown box. You were curious as to the contents inside the package, but dared not open it.
The Irish anomaly's snake-like face filled your mind.
Carefully, you placed the package to the right of the door. You knocked on the door, then ran away as fast as your legs could carry you. You turned a corner, ducking into an alley.
You panted, not quite used to running so fast for a short distance.
The Irishman stood in the alley, brown orbs twinkling from the reflection of the streetlights. His smile was wide, and his arms were outspread.
"Now it's his move! Yes!" He said, spinning in circles. Confused, you raise an eyebrow.
"Who are you really?" You asked, scared as fuck.
He stopped spinning, still smiling scarily.
"Jim Moriarty. Hi!" He said, waving. You frowned, thinking the name familiar. Then it hit you.
"Oh God! If my brother finds out I helped you..." you backed into a brick wall, panicking.
"Well, he definitely knows now!" The Irishman laughed, leaving the alley.
You pulled your phone out of your purse.
"Greg? Hi, it's me. A man blackmailed me into delivering a package to 221B Baker Street. Yep. Uh-huh. Yeah. Thanks. Love you too, bye."
You slowly left the alley, seeing a very pissed off Sherlock Holmes just to the left, listening in.
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"I didn't know who he was until it was too late," you confessed. Your brother frowned, pressing the button on the recorder.
"That's enough for now. Sherlock! Your turn!" Greg shouted, leaving the room. You sighed, putting your head on the table.
Sherlock entered, his face void of emotion.
"Tell it to me again. More detail. Show me your knee as well..."
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A/n
I am going to leave it there. I can do a part three if you'd like, although I'd rather end this here. You can make your own assumptions.
So, last minute, I decided to make Greg your brother.
Yep. That's it.
So, until next time,
—Juju😘