Miss Me? (Jim Moriarty Fanfic)

Miss Me? -Chapter Four-

*Moriarty's POV*

I stood centre meters away from the ocean on the beach. It was midnight and I was alone. Of course, I was wearing my usual Westwood, grey suit even though I was meeting no one.

Feeling confused and lost just for a split second, I hopelessly stared into the sea to see my own reflection. I sighed.

Without a second thought, I quickly grabbed my Blackberry phone out of my pocket and angrily launched it into the far parts of the ocean. I didn't regret it at all. I wanted to get rid of that phone. There was information on there that no one could see.

No one...

~ ~ ~

My smirk was back on my face as I sat in my chair. I was back. I just had a few seconds of madness back at the beach but now it was gone.

I dialled Sherlock's number into my newly bought IPhone. I knew his number off by heart.

As I had a new phone, obviously my number was unrecognised so I decided to have some fun.

"Hello?" Sherlock's voice questioned the phone.

"Is it really you?!" I changed my tone, depth and accent of my voice, "The Sherlock Holmes?!"

"Who is this?" Sherlock asked, ignoring the question.

"Your BIGGEST fan ever!" I squealed, trying not to laugh, "I want to meet you! I want to talk to you! I want to...feel yo-"

"Uh, sorry, I've got to go", Sherlock's voice turned cringed out and worried, "Please don't call this number again".

Then, I burst out laughing, my normal voice coming back.

"Oh-Oh, my God!" I laughed so hard, "What I would do to see your pathetic, little face!"

"Moriarty", Sherlock said coldly, obviously recognising my normal voice again.

"Did you really think you had some kind of stalker?" I kept laughing, "Hilarious".

"What do you want?" I heard Sherlock sigh with anger that he fell for my joke.

"What do I want?" I asked myself over the phone, "...I want you".

"What?" Sherlock asked, not understanding.

"That's right, Sherlock, I want you", I made my voice go all low and sexy, "Are you up for an amazing night?"

"What the f-" Sherlock started but was cut of by me laughing again.

"You're too easy!" I laughed, tears forming in my eyes, "And you're supposed to be a detective".

"I knew you were joking", Sherlock said moodily.

"Of course you did, my dear", I smirked.

"Would you please stop acting like we're friends?" Sherlock sighed.

"But we are friends", I joked.

"Sure, friends love to try and blow people up and make them commit suicide", Sherlock answered.

"Speaking of that, you stole my idea", I pretended to be annoyed, "Faking a death was my thing".

"Well, here's an idea: Next time, don't fake it. Do it!" Sherlock spat.

"Thought you said friends weren't supposed to tell each other to commit suicide", I cleverly said.

"We're not friends", Sherlock said again.

"Sure thing, honey", I sang, "Well, I've gotta go kill some people. Byeeeee!"

"You're pathetic", Sherlock said.

"Oh, yeah?" I asked, "Well, you're a boring, ordinary, predictable, useless, old, wasted freak who is on the side of the Angels and no one wants you lustfully in the same way they want me".

Sherlock didn't reply. He simply hung up.

Well, he's rude...