and honey

1. in which Jim
  * creeps out Harry Lockhart;
  * introduces himself to Poison Ivy;
  * neither creeps out nor introduces himself to Roberta Bryce Wayne.

2. in which sweet Jimmy O'Malley is entrusted with a secret

3. in which both Jim and Ivy get something they want

4. in which Pamela makes progress and Jimmy has a minor mishap

5. in which Ivy is not amused [second link continuation of first. tyvm, LJ.]

6. in which the New England Patriots might just have a new fan

7. in which Jim makes a terrible chauvinist

8. in which Jim and Mary Watson have a civil cup of tea

9. in which Jim makes friends and influences people

10. in which Molly Hooper isn't so boring after all

11. in which Jim enjoys a game of chess

12. in which it all gets a bit meta

13. in which Jim and Molly make a date
     in which a spy is caught

14. in which Jim plays a new game [Trigger warnings for drug addiction, consent issues, and talk of suicide.]
     in which Sebastian Moran makes a delivery

15. in which a Glee marathon is postponed

16. in which Jimmy and Roberta make friendly small talk

17. in which Sherringford Holmes overestimates Jim's sense of self-preservation

18. in which (metaverse) Sherlock is in complete control [S2 spoilers within; trigger warning for drug addiction issues.]

19. in which coincidental resemblances are not coincidental

20. in which Jim-from-IT could stand to polish up his social skills

21. in which a deal with Jim Moriarty is better than a deal with a demon

22. in which meta is not even the word anymore [warning for temperature kink play and eventual adult content]

23. in which Jim might have something vaguely resembling a soft spot after all

24. in which Jim does not bond

25. in which John is boring

26. in which Jim is getting ever closer to finding the right Sherlock

27. in which everything that can happen will happen somewhere

28. in which it is movie night [trigger warning for child abuse]

29. in which there are computer lessons

30. in which they rehearse

31. in which he is Jim and she is Irene

32. in which Richard Brook is innocent

33. in which Jim doesn't smoke often

34. in which they make an exchange

35. in which there are new experiences to be had

36. in which more than one game comes to an end

37. in which something else begins

38. in which it's Moran's turn to find movie night unnerving

39. in which Jim requires further assistance

40. in which an actor meets a captain

41. in which he is, in fact, Jim

42. in which there are tasty snacks

43. in which Jimmy O'Malley makes his final appearance
      and Jim is on holiday
      with certain restrictions
      which are followed mostly to the letter

44. in which Jenny's gone missing

45. in which Milliways is not the arena

46. in which Rich is no longer sure of what he's got himself into

47. in which it isn't a job, it's a favor

48. in which this is a hell of a game changer

49. in which Jim is a disturbance

50. in which signing in blood is optional

51.in which there's always time for a bit of trolling

52. in which fine detail is essential

53. in which Jim's judgment is a little off the mark

54. in which new ideas are explored

55. in which Jim has created the (almost) perfect system

56. in which Rich Brook drives a hard bargain [warning for in-character roleplayed dubcon]

57. in which not-quite-flowers make the best not-quite-apology

58. in which Jim chooses his enemies with care

59. in which Jim is no longer a disturbance

60. in which the Speech has been useful

61. in which a truce is (temporarily) declared

62. in which Jim is getting restless

63. in which a captain meets an actor

Jim is not in the mood for people right now. Not even the people Milliways has to offer.

(This may have something to do with the fresh bruise developing along his cheekbone.)

Which is why he's out back, gazing out over the lake and watching the mountains decide how close they want to be today.

Today, Jim is not on a couch near the fire.

Instead, he's at a table. His left hand and arm are bandaged up and he appears to be entirely absorbed in a tablet he's holding in his right hand.

The first thing he notices upon stepping into Milliways today is the subtle difference in the atmosphere, and among the patrons.

No. Not a difference in them. A difference in his perception. He is, after all, the one who has undergone a significant change since his last visit.

He instantly abandons any other plans he might have had, or considered having, in favor of finding a table with just the right angle for study. The more he makes use of his new perception, the sooner he can find out how it works and how to make it work better.

It may be some while before he goes back home. There isn't enough time amidst all his other obligations to explore his newfound magic as closely as he'd like, but in Milliways he'll have all the time he could ever need. He intends to make the most of it.

". . . you want me to what?"

"I know you heard me."

"I think," Moran said, "it's time we discuss my next pay rise."

Jim rolled his eyes. "This isn't a job, Seb, it's a favor. You're free to say no."

Moran eyed him for a moment. Then he pulled out his mobile.



Long story short, here he is now, in a fake flat, with fake possessions in need of fake removal to another fake flat, with Jim all kitted up as Rich Brook on the sofa next to him, waiting for the doorbell to announce the arrival of a man who decided Icarus Removals was the kind of name that would inspire confidence in potential customers.

Jim fucking owes him.

There's so much to do and see in Gotham, why waste his time tracking down a phone number when Bryce Wayne's penthouse is the most well-known private residence in the city?

The security is also an infinite improvement over some of what he's encountered lately. He examines it from afar for a little before he decides to just do this the polite way.

Well. The relatively polite way. He's not exactly immaculate after three days' wandering. Easier to let himself get spotted openly scoping out the security than to try to talk his way into the building.

This kind of shit is exactly why Seb Moran doesn't like Milliways.

It all begins well enough. Jim turns up with a couple DVDs at what is, for them, a reasonable hour. He even brings takeaway in his usual haphazard fashion: enough food for half a dozen people, a variety of appetizers and entrees that don't go together. It's what happens when a man who cares about neither the cost nor the taste of his food does the ordering. Moran is long since used to it. He also knows that it's not so much a polite gesture as it is a way of warding off his inquiries into when exactly it was Jim last ate. Still, it's not the worst start to an evening.

Then he sees the DVDs' covers.

Fucking Milliways. It's all well and good for Jim, not minding that their whole world only exists because some bastard in some other reality decided an idea he'd had would make a cracking detective story, but Moran minds. Moran minds very fucking much. This shit was not in the job description when he signed on.

But he knows by heart the blankly uncomprehending look he'll get if he tries to complain, so he just pours himself an extra-large whiskey and keeps his mouth shut.

The first movie isn't so bad. The fact that the people on the screen don't look anything like the people in this world makes it easier for Moran to pretend they're just watching some flashy popcorn flick. Jim casually predicts each of Blackwood's tricks through mouthfuls of takeaway as they play out, with the occasional complaint about excessively obtuse scriptwriting mistaking itself for clever, but he's always doing that with movies. Moran learnt long ago that if he wanted to be surprised by a plot twist, he'd have to watch alone. It's a good sign, though, more encouraging than their last movie night; Jim even sits on the couch next to him, foot tucked up with his knee resting against Moran's thigh, rather than isolated down on the floor like before. Moran can feel the way his focus sharpens every time Irene Adler is onscreen, but that's no surprise. It'd be odd if Jim's devotion to Irene didn't bleed across the universal divides.

There is one sticky moment about half an hour in, when Irene is conferring with the shadowy figure in the cab.

"Ugh, really?" Jim mutters. Moran glances at him, then realizes,

"Wait, is that meant to be you?"

"A cheap imitation." Most would only hear the scorn in Jim's voice, but Moran knows him well enough to catch the anger tucked carefully away underneath it.

He pays closer attention after that.

There's another scene with Irene and the shadowy Moriarty in the first film, but Jim doesn't offer much of a reaction to it; it isn't until the beginning of the second, when Irene meets Moriarty (who has a flagrantly different voice) in a restaurant, that Moran feels Jim shift. It's subtle, with no outward change, but it's something Moran learnt quickly to pick up on - the split second when Jim goes from calm observer to ready to kill.

The reason why becomes clear with the end of the scene. It's written ambiguously, but the offscreen crash of china and retching sound spell Irene's fate out obviously enough. Moran is still trying to wrap his mind around the idea of a world where James Moriarty would kill Irene Adler when Jim says conversationally,

"She's fine. She made it to Milliways. I took her to the infirmary myself."

"Glad to hear it," Moran says, in all sincerity.

Jim leans forward, placing the takeaway carton he's been eating from on the coffeetable. When he sits back, he ends up much closer to Moran.

"My double is an idiot," he says, "but I'm told yours is much better."

"Right," Moran says, then, "What?"

Jim exhales a quietly amused sound, leaning his cheek against Moran's shoulder. "Of course you're in this one. Where would Moriarty be without his Moran?"

"I'll tell you where he's about to be with his Moran," he mutters. Jim ignores him.

Jim seems to take it as a mortal insult that his double is so foolish, so complacent, so disinterested in the details that would have saved him. By the end of the movie, though, Moran thinks it's a hell of a lot more unsettling to have a double who does everything he'd do himself.

Fucking Milliways.

Jim is . . . more or less himself today. He could easily drop into character if necessary, but he's recognizable enough to anyone who knows him.

In front of him on his table is a deceptively dated-looking laptop, with a small box of chocolates perched on top of it.

He might be waiting for someone. There's no guarantee, but Milliways tends to be good about these sorts of things.

[shortly after this - warning for temperature play kink and (eventual) adult content]

Take a picture, Milliways: This is one of the very rare times Jim Moriarty is downstairs, out in the open, not in disguise. He's too contented to bother.

He's also liberally sprinkled with odd patterns of frostbite in varying degrees of severity that he doesn't seen overly concerned about. The most obvious marks are first-degree, encircling his wrists and his throat (the latter accompanied by developing bruises); there's also one on the back of his neck in the shape of a hand, second-degree and just a few hours away from blistering.

He'll probably have gone to the infirmary to have them all healed before that happens - at the very least, he can't go home looking like this.

He also looks like he's just recently escaped the first stages of hypothermia. The chair he's occupying has definitely been moved a little closer to the fire than might ordinarily be comfortable.

He wouldn't mind going home to mull over the events of the evening, but he has something to take care of first.

So, after Molly leaves, Jim permits himself five seconds - all right, ten - to savor the moment. Then he climbs up onto the nearest table, and from there, hauls himself up into the rafters.

"Enjoy the show?"