As soon as the dark haired man settled himself into his office chair, he started contacting his puppet companies. His Lady, as he had taken to calling her, had emailed him her resume, mostly as a formality, but it would certainly help narrow down where she could be best utilized. At least, that had been the plan in the beginning. That is, until he’d realized just how rare she was. But now, now he wanted this young woman close. No cover company would allow that, regardless of her being overqualified for any position therein.

What company would have any use for such a diverse individual? Well, his Firm, for one. Jim heaved a sigh as he glanced around the room for inspiration. Relatively neat piles of reports were stacked near a filing cabinet, his laptop with it’s blinking mail icon, and the messages filling up his voice mail. Seb was far less useful in the office than out in the field. Speak of the devil, that was his knock on the door. The tall brunette pushed the door in roughly, self-satisfied smirk firmly in place. Mission success, then. They exchanged nods, and Moran crossed the office to add his report to the latest pile.

“Y’know, you should think about getting an assistant, or something, Jim. This is getting rather out of hand.”

An assistant? Oh, that would work. The mad grin on his face earned him a sigh from the other man.

“Alright, boss, I’ll bite. What insane plot do you have in mind today?”

“We’re going to outsource it to an American.”

“You’re bringing in a bloody Yank?!”

“I think you’ll quite like her, Seb.”

“Her? It’s a woman? I like her already!”

“Of course you do.”

With that out of the way, was time to pick her up at the airport.

—————

Fayte had been a ball of nervous energy since she’d gotten to the Orlando International Airport. It wasn’t the flight itself that bothered her, nor was it the destination. It had to be the welcoming party. She didn’t know who would be meeting her there, whether it would be Mr. Moriarty himself or a minion, or if she’d have to find her way there on her own. That would be annoying, to say the least.

The flight was uneventful, regardless, which was disappointing. The young woman would have welcomed the diversion. Demons would have been great, but she could accept an explosion or two. Even the walk to baggage claim was dull. Picking out her suitcase was easier than normal, and given it’s size, it shouldn’t have been. Fayte always traveled light. Personal products, professional clothing, a few casual pieces, all packed tightly into one case. Her carry-on was a laptop case, with all the chargers and essentials slipped in the pockets. She’d opted not to bring a purse, preferring to use the pockets of her coat to carry her ID, cards, cash, mp3, and phone. She watched a family from her flight try to grab their cases, and she caught the last one before it got too far. Handing it over with a charming smile, she turned to view the area, and paused to check her messages.

1 new message(s)

Unknown Number

Must be him, she thought.

[Open]

We’re here. See if you can find us. -JM

Really? Finally, something fun. A smirk split her features, and she let herself take in the crowd. Us, so there’s someone with him. Look for couples and groups, but no more than three. Anymore would be suspicious, something to be avoided, when you were powerful underground and out in the open. Two blondes, female, off to the right, not them. Red head and brunette, couple, no. There was a tall, dark haired man standing off to the side of a pillar, a smaller, shadowy figure at his side. Bingo. She put her head down, and fell in with the crowd, letting it lead her around the other side of it. She circled around nonchalantly, and stood nearby, glancing in either direction. Her cell buzzed.

1 new message(s)

Unknown Number

[Open]

So close! Need a hint? -JM

Fayte turned sharply, looking directly at the dark eyed man. “No, sir, I don’t believe I do.” The long haired woman dipped into a curtsy, bowing her head. When she gazed back up at him, a flicker of intrigue was in his eyes.

“It’s a pleasure to finally see you in person, Ms. Byrd.” The consultant grinned, taking her hand and raising it to his lips. “I believe you already know my name, so I’ll let Seb introduce himself.”

“Colonel Sebastian Moran, at your service, sweetheart.” The taller man winked.

For anyone interested, it’s the fanfic beginning of the roleplaying (smut) that you sometimes see on your dash from me. It’s a Jim x OC, originally, but as it hasn’t been finished, yet, it could easily become the Ménage à Trois you now see being played out.

Here’s a few links, if you want to read it. (No guarantees on quality…)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2, Part 1

Chapter 2, Part 2

Chapter 3, Part 1

Have fun, I suppose.

Just realized I should have typed up more of Until You, like… last year.

…

Does anyone even remember that? Or have any interest?

As soon as the dark haired man settled himself into his office chair, he started contacting his puppet companies. His Lady, as he had taken to calling her, had emailed him her resume, mostly as a formality, but it would certainly help narrow down where she could be best utilized. At least, that had been the plan in the beginning. That is, until he’d realized just how rare she was. But now, now he wanted this young woman close. No cover company would allow that, regardless of her being overqualified for any position therein.

What company would have any use for such a diverse individual? Well, his Firm, for one. Jim heaved a sigh as he glanced around the room for inspiration. Relatively neat piles of reports were stacked near a filing cabinet, his laptop with it’s blinking mail icon, and the messages filling up his voice mail. Seb was far less useful in the office than out in the field. Speak of the devil, that was his knock on the door. The tall blonde pushed the door in roughly, self-satisfied smirk firmly in place. Mission success, then. They exchanged nods, and Moran crossed the office to add his report to the latest pile.

“Y’know, you should think about getting an assistant, or something, Jim. This is getting rather out of hand.”

An assistant? Oh, that would work. The mad grin on his face earned him a sigh from the blonde.

“Alright, boss, I’ll bite. What insane plot do you have in mind today?”

“We’re going to outsource it to America.”

“You’re bringing in a bloody Yank?!”

It’s several days before she can return to the internet, weary from pulling strings on her end. Unlike in the stories she’d read, or the movies she’d seen, you can’t just up and leave home. Fayte stretched her body, finally relaxing into her computer chair as she reviewed her checklist. Inform her college, check. Family, check. Friends, check. She was surprisingly fortunate to be between jobs, something she’d never thought to be thankful of, but saved her the two weeks notice most jobs demand. But when asked for a reason, how was she supposed to respond? “I’m running off to Europe, don’t know for how long, or where I’ll be staying.” Oh, and don’t forget the most worrying part. “It’s all for a possible psychopath whom I haven’t actually met.” Well, the truth is stranger than fiction. She laughs, despite herself. Every time, each person responded similarly. A knowing look, a roll of the eyes, and wishing her luck. Admittedly, this was a bit out there, even for her, but this was exactly how she thrived.

She smiled, and logged in. God, she’d missed a lot. Fayte scrolled through her dashboard, “liking” a few posts, and reblogging others, until she clicked to refresh and view the newest posts. As the page finished loading, she noticed the “1” above the inbox. A message in all capital letters, exclaiming of the hostility he had received. It was almost childish, adorable even, if one could call Moriarty such a benign adjective. Apparently, Fayte was the only person to extend any amount of understanding to the man, all the other users he’d contacted in his boredom had quickly attacked him, favoring Mr. Holmes. She reads on as the message complains how Sebastian had never woken up in time, and that he’d been bored and horny the entire time she’d been gone.

Fayte’s face burns a bright red, and she hesitates to type a reply. It’s not as if she has any experience in this topic. Slowly, she types out a response, testing the waters, because… well, it wasn’t as if he wasn’t attractive. Quite the opposite, in fact. And by his next message, he’s already started mobilizing and preparing for her arrival. And that seals the deal. She’ll be working for Jim Moriarty, Consulting Criminal.

The entire day, Fayte’s mind has revolved around one thing. Or, rather, one person. That enigmatic man, Mr. Moriarty, occupied a far larger portion of her conscious though than any other. She was functional, yes, but most of her mental resources had been concentrated on what had been said, analyzing his messages, mulling over her own responses, and pondering in general. He had offered the young woman a position working for him, though he hadn’t specified. She’d then brought up the argument of her physical capabilities to kill, or lack there of, and he had caught the lack of resistance regarding any mental or emotional hesitation. Which had been quickly countered with a theory that, with enough dedication or stimulae, one could feasibly override any such difficulty. To label his reaction as impressed would be an understatement. And that was a feat, as it’s not everyday someone impresses a criminal mastermind with ingenuity.

But something wouldn’t let one of his comments drop, the one about his “pet” Sebastian Moran. He’d compared him to John Watson, whom he’d referred to as Sherlock Holmes’s “pet”, and had implied that Moran was the better of the two, but it hadn’t been affectionate by any means. And if the woman was completely honest, it didn’t seem Mr. Moran was fulfilling his duties as such. Perhaps the position would be available? She thought saucily. She shook her head quickly, No, no. I shouldn’t think that. I wouldn’t be much of a play toy, for anyone. Besides, it’s not as if she’d have much to offer him if his preferences ran towards men.

I’m quite proud of myself. Also, 35 hits! Hell to the yeah!

If you’re interested, shameless self promotion not withstanding go here!

If you’re up for it, tell me what you think!

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7385305/1/Until_You

ladyfayte:

A powerful man doesn’t go through the communications of the entire world himself. No, such a person has programs and subordinates to do such monotonous tasks. But sometimes, when that brilliant man gets bored -and he doesn’t have the time to be bored, some days- he’ll sift through what the programs have caught.

Sebastian is in bed beside him, asleep. But he, Jim Moriarty, is not sleeping. Unlike Seb, his mind lacks such a simple “off switch”.

He goes through the flagged messages, unconfident that there will be anything remotely entertaining or worth his attention. By the time he finds a peculiar post with “fix it for me, Jim?”, he’s bored enough to put ridiculous gibberish in the person’s ask box, even signing with his initials – JM – because he’s seen that Sherlock and his pet’s messages are signed the same way. Maybe they’ll freak out, he thinks. That could be amusing… If only for a moment.

He doesn’t expect this. The response is anything but frightened. This person is thanking him. Out of all the possibilities he’d calculated, this one was the least likely. He’s been running a search on this “LadyFayte”, and the results are in. Female, age 18, living in the state of Florida. Not what he’s looking for, but who ever she is, she’s careful. Ooh, but here’s some pictures. Attractive, to say the least. Intelligent, too, definite bonus. This could get interesting.

He’s gazing at photos of a young woman, dark brown hair falling about an expressive face. A full lower lip paired with a thinner upper lip giving her an alluring pout. Cute. He smirks. Let’s see how she reacts to this, though. He sends her another message, purposely trying to scare her. He wants to know if this is worth his time.

“You’re very welcome. Also, I’ve tracked you down by your IP address. I would suggest not opening any mail you receive yourself for the next week or so. -JM” He types.

Her response is coy, and not at all concerned. He was so sure she’d freak out, like all the people he’d threatened similarly. Or, at the very least, get annoyed and become rude and scathing. Display some form of hatred, for him, and for what he’s done, killed and hurt so many people. Somehow, it seems like she doesn’t quite condemn him. She’s been treating him as if he wasn’t threatening her, but rather with an easy respect, and no expectations.

Why, though? His brain is whizzing about, flicking back through the information he’d found. Wait. The brilliant mind pauses. Empathetic as well as sympathetic tendencies. Add to that the intelligence… Perhaps. Just perhaps, this female would be the perfect counterpart. Worth a shot, at least.

Another message. And another, and more. Eventually, he asks her if she would be interested in working for him. A positive response, and complex. She’s really too perfect. He makes note to organize her move, normally he’d let an operative take care of the training process but he wants to watch her progress personally.

Before he can solidify an exact time, though, his conversational partner has to leave. She has business to attend to, especially if she is going to be leaving across the pond. He’s actually disappointed. If Sebastian would wake the fuck up, maybe he would be less so, but it seems the taller man is oblivious to his annoyance.

Suddenly irritated, he closes the laptop and extinguishes his cigarette. He slips out of bed, and begins his morning routine. Before he leaves, he pauses. Turning, the consulting criminal writes a note for the still sleeping male, informing him that he will be changing flats, and that the man is “welcome” to remain, but should under no circumstances follow him. He places it in the place Moran will see it, and exits the flat. It’s going to be yet another boring day.

A powerful man doesn’t go through the communications of the entire world himself. No, such a person has programs and subordinates to do such monotonous tasks. But sometimes, when that brilliant man gets bored -and he doesn’t have the time to be bored, some days- he’ll sift through what the programs have caught.

Sebastian is in bed beside him, asleep. But he, Jim Moriarty, is not sleeping. Unlike Seb, his mind lacks such a simple “off switch”.

He goes through the flagged messages, unconfident that there will be anything remotely entertaining or worth his attention. By the time he finds a peculiar post with “fix it for me, Jim?”, he’s bored enough to put ridiculous gibberish in the person’s ask box, even signing with his initials – JM – because he’s seen that Sherlock and his pet’s messages are signed the same way. Maybe they’ll freak out, he thinks. That could be amusing… If only for a moment.

He doesn’t expect this. The response is anything but frightened. This person is thanking him. Out of all the possibilities he’d calculated, this one was the least likely. He’s been running a search on this “LadyFayte”, and the results are in. Female, age 18, living in the state of Florida. Not what he’s looking for, but who ever she is, she’s careful. Ooh, but here’s some pictures. Attractive, to say the least. Intelligent, too, definite bonus. This could get interesting.

He’s gazing at photos of a young woman, dark brown hair falling about an expressive face. A full lower lip paired with a thinner upper lip giving her an alluring pout. Cute. He smirks. Let’s see how she reacts to this, though. He sends her another message, purposely trying to scare her. He wants to know if this is worth his time.

“You’re very welcome. Also, I’ve tracked you down by your IP address. I would suggest not opening any mail you receive yourself for the next week or so. -JM” He types.

Her response is coy, and not at all concerned. He was so sure she’d freak out, like all the people he’d threatened similarly. Or, at the very least, get annoyed and become rude and scathing. Display some form of hatred, for him, and for what he’s done, killed and hurt so many people. Somehow, it seems like she doesn’t quite condemn him. She’s been treating him as if he wasn’t threatening her, but rather with an easy respect, and no expectations.

Why, though? His brain is whizzing about, flicking back through the information he’d found. Wait. The brilliant mind pauses. Empathetic as well as sympathetic tendencies. Add to that the intelligence… Perhaps. Just perhaps, this female would be the perfect counterpart. Worth a shot, at least.

Another message. And another, and more. Eventually, he asks her if she would be interested in working for him. A positive response, and complex. She’s really too perfect. He makes note to organize her move, normally he’d let an operative take care of the training process but he wants to watch her progress personally.

Before he can solidify an exact time, though, his conversational partner has to leave. She has business to attend to, especially if she is going to be leaving across the pond. He’s actually disappointed. If Sebastian would wake the fuck up, maybe he would be less so, but it seems the taller man is oblivious to his annoyance.

Suddenly irritated, he closes the laptop and extinguishes his cigarette. He slips out of bed, and begins his morning routine. Before he leaves, he pauses. Turning, the consulting criminal writes a note for the still sleeping male, informing him that he will be changing flats, and that the man is “welcome” to remain, but should under no circumstances follow him. He places it in the place Moran will see it, and exits the flat. It’s going to be yet another boring day.