#NaNoWordSprint #2: Reasonable conversation between (fr)enemies

“How’s it going so far, Sher?”

“Everything’s going absolutely fine for me, Mormor. I have a Jawn now.”

“Well, I have a Jawn myself. His name is Sebby.”


“It’s nickname for Sebastian. Seriously, Sherlock, grow a brain already.”

“Oh, please. If your Jawn is anywhere near as good as mine, I’ll be damned. Plus, your nickname for your Jawn is not something that I need to know, so will be deleted in three, two, one. Deleted.”

“Who cares if you deleted my ingenious nickname for my Sebby? I’m gonna rub it all on your face, son.”

“Wow, Jim, I’ve never thought I would see the day where you would be as pathetic as you are now. If you want to join in, just ask.”

“Oh, like I would want to join in. I would probably choke on the love fest going around in that damned flat of yours.”

“What’s wrong with my flat?”

“Well, it’s just too… Sherlock-y.”

“Sherlock-y? Seriously, Jim, you’re turning into Anderson. Have you heard of him lately?”

“Anderson? Who the fuck is this Anderson you always speak of? Trouble in paradise? Need someone to fuck you good after getting so tired of fucking your Jawn already?”

“No, Mister Pathetic-Jealous-Villain-Who-Can’t-Get-A-Life-Better-Known-As-Jim-Moriarty. He’s a complete idiot who expected a lot more than he bargained for.”

“May I ask what he expected?”

“Well, he just expected some really genius plan about how I faked my death when all I did was arrange an ambulance, a group of people, a hypnotist, and John to be right at the location where he needs to be so I can master my art of fraud.”

“Damn. After you told me that story, I thought was being dethroned as King of Fraud. How the fuck could that happen? I’m a con genius. Even that guy from Leverage that I couldn’t be bothered to remember the name of worships me. Worship, Sherlock. Worship. Has anyone worshipped you like that, Sherlock?”

“I don’t need anyone worshipping me. All I need is my Jawn. And this shall be the time we part. Goodbye, Mormor.”


“What now? You’re going to strap a bomb on me and make me explode in front of a goddamned cafe? This is a public place, for God’s sake.”

“Meet me at your front door tomorrow. We’ll talk again.”



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