AN: Hey! Just wanna clear up some things that may be confusing or annoying. I HOPE that you don't feel this way, but if you do...KNOW EVERYTHING I WRITE IS INTENTIONAL! I really hope you don't feel like I make James talk too much about Greta, but I want you guys to see how obsessed he is with her. All he wants is a normal relationship with Greta so that's all he thinks about. 

I write what I feel he'd think. He's still a psychopath as established in the last chapter, but all of his insanity is caused by his never-ending obsession with her. IT IS ALL INTENTIONAL I PROMISE! I feel his original character would cling onto her like his last chance at redemption I feel everyone (even insane and murderous characters) want in life. Even though he (and Greta) explain to you readers, that life is boring to them. 

Life is boring to me too. 

Unless you honest to goodness have something to live for. 

They have each other, and James Moriarty will never let go of that fact. I'm just establishing the idea that he feels that way. 

HAPPY READING!!! (sorry bout the rant) 

+++

Moriarty POV- 

-past, one week later- 

I had seen Greta almost everyday, just hanging out with one another and getting to know each other. Well, if I'm honest, I was mostly getting to know Greta, not the other way around. 

I always stopped by the store, and sometimes I got there before she did which was awkward hanging around Calvin because Maurice was normally gone. I never tried to make conversation because he annoyed the crap out of me already, and I was never properly introduced to him. 

I think her face was priceless when she came in to see me sitting in her chair with Maurice's glasses on the tip of my nose, and I helped some costumers on my own. Calvin was rolling a joint across the road. He even asked me if I wanted to come with. Multiple times. When I responded with a gun to his face, that was the end of it. 

Yeah, I know. I'm in America, trying to get some from a girl, and I'm carrying a pistol. The ultimate lady-getter. 

But I am a criminal, so you can't expect me to be perfect. But I sure as hell am close. 

Whenever I wasn't around her, I was around the store, hoping to get a peek of her every now and then. I tried to spy on her from the huge window that Maurice was staring at us from a couple days ago, and when she'd look my way, I'd disappear from the other side. When I returned to stalking, I had a mini-heart attack when Greta had her face pressed against the glass, making a face right in front of me.  

Today was the day before I left for London once again, and I was really stressed out because I had grown to like Greta the moment I actually met her. 

I was more than infatuated with her, and I don't know if I can go a day without talking to her. It had become a normal thing in a matter of one week, which shows how fast things have gone and how well I've hit it off with her. 

Most of the girls I've ever met were one-nights, one-times, one-conversation, one-deed. Greta was an eternity in an hour. She was more than just a woman to me. She was way more than Greta Levine, and she was more than enough for me. 

I had decided I was going to do something, no one would ever picture James Moriarty to do. Something that never in one hundred years would I dare to do again. 

I would ask her on a real date. 

It seemed like the only way to preserve the relationship I wanted with Greta. Taking the next step. 

I felt like a normal person around her. Everything that ever was wrong with me, wasn't...when she was with me. I was able to sleep for the first time without the nagging voices that controlled my mind picking at everything I did and made me do the things that James Moriarty, the criminal, would do. 

Not James Moriarty, the human being. And I was going to keep it that way. 

I knew, deep down inside, that the voices would come back the minute my plane landed, but that same part of me welcomed them home. 

Not only was I addicted to Greta, I was also addicted to my game. Which complicated a lot of things for me. 

She was a medicine that controlled my...cravings...and as long as I had a daily dosage of her piercing gray eyes, I'd be fine. And I needed, further than anyone, to overdose on her. 

I already had plans to take her to a nice restaurant on our first date, and just go on from there with the marriage proposal. 

I'm just joking. I don't think I'll ever get married. 

I'd be surprised if Greta even agreed to even go out with me. Though there was a small, slim chance that she would say 'yes' because she has no idea who I am really, but that's the point. She hardly knows anything about me. She can never know who I am, otherwise things would all go downhill. I'd have to return to my original plan I had when I first met her. 

And I don't ever want that to happen. She's way too important. 

---

For today being one of the most important days in history, a day that could make or break my life, I really woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Let's have a little list, shall we. 

First of all, I awoke in my presidential suite to find out that I awoke later than I thought. Way later than Greta normally gets to the Book Store. I freaked out immediately, hoping that she didn't think I was tired of her and never showed up just out of the blue. My plan was to get there before her again and impress Greta. 

If I'm honest, it was Maurice's plan. She's the one trying even harder than I am. (which is something to say because I really want to hit it off with Greta)  

I threw off my covers and raced to the small kitchen area (mind you, this is a presidential suite) to check and make sure Greta didn't try and call me, and then I could explain my plan and maybe she would still be impressed that I made an attempt to impress her. As I neared the counter, I saw my phone missing from the charger. When I picked it up, I noticed it was broken, and my new phone was lying on the floor with one gigantic crack in the middle, practically bending the phone, right in front of my feet.

In rage, I took out my pistol and shot the device, the sound of the bullet ringing throughout the room, along with my breathing. Once that was over, I hoped no one heard me, so I sneaked out of the room without being recognized or questioned for what I just did, because to be honest...I had no idea why I shot my phone. 

I raced to the elevator, pressing the down button so I could make it to the lobby and head towards the Book Store. When I realized I had no clothes on besides my pajamas, I was in the elevator. I groaned and pressed the button that went back to my floor. Unfortunately for me, the elevator door opened and a small family was revealed and walked in the very same elevator I was in.

"Going up?" I sheepishly asked them, to make it less awkward then it was. The young boy kept staring at me with wonder. 

"Mommy? Why can't I walk around in my underwear like that mister?" He pointed at me, after tugging on his mother's skirt. Her eyes looked at me for only a second, almost in embarrassment and scolded the kid. 

I folded in my lips and bounced in my stance, waiting impatiently for the elevator to open back to my floor. When it did, the family hurried out. 

"Bye, underwear dude!" The small child yelled as he was tugged out by his mother. I gave him a small wave in return. A wavy red-headed young woman raced in the elevator. She looked shocked to see me, but then gave me a flirtatious wink. 

I grew uncomfortable, and jammed my finger harder on the blinking light that lead to my floor, multiple times, as if that would make the elevator move faster. I was almost cowering over the button as the red-headed woman continued to stare at me. I gave her a polite smile, as the elevator music filled the small chamber and tried my best to avoid eye contact, but she just kept staring at me. I suddenly wished the elevator was bigger. 

And had more people in it. 

And a brick wall that separated her from me. And maybe some hungry Whale Sharks on the other side. Her side. Or mine, it doesn't matter. I just need a wall. 

"Hey there, my name's-" She began but before the weird lady could finish, the sliding panels opened and I dashed out of the elevator and raced to my room door. I ran for a while through boring tan wall-papered walls until I got to a fancy red door with a label on the side of it that read 'Presidential Suite'. When I went to open it, and change into something more appropriate, I realized I left my key inside.

I had locked myself out, standing in an empty hallway, with nothing but my boxer underwear and a t-shirt on. I sighed and banged on my door, hoping Robert, my limo driver and now promoted butler for the week, was inside already awake. If the gunshot from earlier didn't somehow do the job. 

"Robert!" I shouted and pounded a little more. No answer. I heard voices coming around the side of the hallway, where the elevators were. "Robert, open this door now or you will die!" I kicked the stained wood door. 

It took less than a second for him to open after my last comment, and when his gray-haired self opened the door, he looked awfully frightened. And then confused when his old eyes jotted to my attire. "Sir?" 

Holding up my hand to silence him, he interrupted himself. 

"Don't-Don't ask." I snapped and continued to run to my room. I slightly wished I had six-pack abs after all this cardio workout. Maybe that will woo Greta to saying yes. I quickly threw on a white shirt, pants and a sweater. 

I then came to the conclusion I should have brushed my teeth, and raced to the bathroom. I closed the door to the bathroom and flicked on the lights. 

I looked like a mess. I smelled like a mess. I probably sounded like a mess. Sighing, I put a comb through my hair, and left it hanging out the side of my head, as I roughly took a Gold-studded toothbrush from the small clay pot I stole from the Mayan Ruins and put on the toothpaste on the bristles that matched the gold studs. Then I felt the urge to pee. Deciding that it would just be easier to brush my teeth and go at the same time, I did just that. 

That was my third mistake in a matter of just an hour. 

Short story short, my toothbrush (which I remind you, is gold-studded ) fell in the toilet and I peed on it. Yay me! 

"Bloody Hell." I muttered and finished my job. When I flushed the leather seated toilet, I forgot the brush was floating around in there, and it jammed the plumbing. I exited the bathroom in an enraged rush. "Robert, I need coffee." I ordered, once I reached the small living room area. 

"Already done, sir." He handed me a pure black cup of coffee from across the mini kitchen and I dryly sauntered next to him. He quickly moved away, most likely because of the unattractive scowl that was on my face.

 I figured since my day had gone so salty and bitter, I was going to put sugar in it, to sweeten it up. I grabbed what I thought was sugar and poured in about three tablespoons in it, and took a sip. 

As the mug was at my lips, looked at the sugar bin and saw that the label said 'baking powder' in big, black letters. I spit out my mouthful and coughed up every last bit. The carpet had a dark brown stain and fizzed up. 

"Why do they even have baking powder in a hotel? What am I gonna do? Make a souffle with it?" I snapped out loud. I looked back down to where the stain was and saw that my coffee had disintegrated the carpet, and I knew I'd have to pay extra than what the entire bloody room costed for a week. I'd have to rob three banks to make up for that. 

Not that I was complaining. It always was good fun. 

I grumbled, and went to leave the room, throwing open the door. Just as I was about to leave, and shut the door, I sighed and grabbed my key from the counter I placed the mug next to. I left my broken phone with a giant hole dead center int the middle, that sparked every once in a while, on the ground. There was no way I was picking up that thing. 

Entering back into the elevator, I checked my clothes again, just making sure I was wearing some. I would never want to go through that thrill again. 

I exited the entire hotel finally sure that I had both my key and my clothes, and yet I still had a strong urge to blow up the hotel. Maybe that creepy lady would still be in it...

But then all my stuff would go with the hotel, and that would be three more banks on top of the others. 

Again, not complaining, but still. 

I called my driver, and sooner rather than later, he showed up in a black van. Not the limo this time, I didn't want to seem like a showoff, although wouldn't that be awesome! Riding in a limo makes you feel so business-y.

I wasn't able to drive by myself, since I was used to England driving not American road. I knew with me driving on the road would equal a 98% chance that I get road rage and intentionally create accidents within the streets. I mean, I already do it in London. Especially when someone I don't like is driving to work, I make an accident on his main road and then he's late. It's greta fun! 

The van stopped at a nearby coffee shop just as I ordered them to, because I needed a new cup of Jo. We reached the drive through and I relaxed. Maybe everything would be fine, after all, only an hour went by through all that madness. And nothing bad has happened now since I left the hotel. 

After the comment I made in my head, I knocked on the wood trimming of the van. I'm not superstitious but I needed all the luck I can get. I even have seven rabbit's feet around my neck. 

I'm bluffing. I really don't. That would just be plain weird. 

"Hello, what would you like today?" A cheery voice chimed in. It was obviously a teenage girl just happy she can get a job at a coffee shop instead of some underpaid Wal-Mart greeter person. 

"Just a black coffee. Small." I stated, my fingers massaging my temple. 

"Sure thing. Can I get a name?" 

"James." 

"Okay, that will be four dollars and fifty cents, and if you could wait in line, we'll get you your coffee right away. Enjoy!" 

I said nothing in reply, but rolled up the window. The driver pulled forward, and waited for a server to open up those silly slide windows. 

"Here you go sir." A waiter, with blue-dyed hair, handed my driver my small mug. I raised my eyebrow at the job quality, it was all faded and part of it looked green. He gave her the money and drove away, handing me the paper cup. When I looked at the cup, engraved in thick, black sharpie was the name 'Jims'. I sighed in defeat and leaned back in my black leather seat, realizing today was just not my day. I might as well forget the whole 'Mission Love Handle' thing, seeming my luck was not the best. 

Immediately, as I brought the cup to my lips, I had forgotten that my toothbrush fell in the toilet, so my breath still wasn't the best. 

Trying to freshen up a bit for her, I fixed my hair in the rear view mirror so it wasn't the mess sticking around my head like a mad scientist. And took the comb out of my hair slowly, realizing how long it had been in my hair, and how many people must have seen it. 

And how many people must have thought of me gay, for combing my hair in the first place. 

--- 

It's a funny thing when a small thing that goes your way, can completely overpower everything that went wrong. When all that stressing, and rehearsing and preparation is thrown out the window, and yet everything turns out just right in the end.

Even after encouraging myself throughout the beating I was having dished out to me again and again, and ultimately having the day where everything goes wrong all at once, I'd be lying if I said I didn't even want to show my face to her again. I reached the Book Store, and caught sight of Greta helping Maurice with customers and instantly felt my stomach drop.

I couldn't do it. If something happened before I left for London again, and it didn't turn out right...I would have wasted 200 American dollars on a ticket to a place I would never want to visit again.

Luckily, that wouldn't equal another bank, but it was still 200 dollars I could spend on some hot dogs or something.

I had a bouquet of flowers, and looked around hoping none of my units were watching me hold one. I just wanted to hand them to her and move on with the day. Only my dignity and 15 American dollars were spent. James Moriarty would never buy flowers for a lady. But...if I were to be honest...this wasn't an ordinary lady.

 But what if she thought I was weird for giving her flowers and expects me to ask her out? Would she stress out the entire time on how to let me down easy? Would she even let me down easy? What if she expects it, and then I never get the guts to ask her, and she gets disappointed? And then when I come back to see her, she wouldn't want to see me because I let her down? 

I tried to push away those thoughts as I took a deep breath and opened the door to the shop. The bell rang and Greta's head whipped to face me and a huge grin grew on her face. Maurice chuckled and spoke. 

"She's been doing that all morning." 

Greta cheeks turned to a shade of pink, and tucked in the corners of her lips.

"No, I haven't." She said, purposely trying to make herself sound shifty, and tried to pretend busying herself, by picking up books some customers left behind and walking towards the rows of shelves holding an entire world full of stories. 

I began to laugh and walked more inside the shop. I heard Calvin scoffed, and saw him roll his eyes. I raised an eyebrow at him. He must still have hard feelings about me pulling a gun to his face. I almost began to wonder why he never told anyone, but then remembered he was going to snuff the puff and would get in way more trouble than me. 

I awkwardly shifted the flowers in my hands, unsure on how to give them to her. I wished I had them delivered to her instead of me, personally, giving them to her. I did not have the confidence to do so, since my demeanor has been diminished by the fact I actually bought them for a woman. 

"Hey, you want to put this in water or something?" I handed the roses to Greta. "They are for you, just to clarify." 

She chuckled, and beamed at me. 

"Oh! Thank you!" The pink on her cheeks spread, and turned into a deeper color. "Maurice? Do we have any vases?" 

"We have jars? Will that work?" Maurice offered, shifting her smiling gaze at me to Greta. 

"Yup! I'll go fill some with water and keep these from dying!" She spoke towards me, as I nodded my head sweetly at me. She walked backwards for a while, a happy-but-confused expression on her face, like she couldn't fathom the possibility that someone would do such a gesture, and then disappeared in the Staff Room. I suddenly I felt glad that I did give them to her personally. 

Maurice turned her head to look at me and smiled happily. 

"You cheeky fellow, you!" She exclaimed. "Is there any...reason...that you got Greta flowers that I should know about as your self-proclaimed counselor in the art of Great Levine?" Maurice smirked at me, and sat down in the spinny chair inside the desk and began to spin hazily. I returned the smirk. 

"Well, since you are the counselor..." I drew out my words to add suspension. "I'm leaving back for London, and want to-" 

"Ask her out!" She interrupted, and I gave her a look and made sure Greta didn't hear Maurice's outburst. I'd be done for if she did. I heard a loud noise that sounded like glass breaking from the room Greta was in. Customer's heads peeked out from aisles from all around the store to catch a glimpse of what happened, and it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. 

"I'm fine! I'm okay!" A voice shouted, obviously Greta. "I just-I just thought I saw a spider!" Her shaky voice echoed once again. 

"Calvin! Go help Greta clean whatever she just did!" Maurice bossed the young man who looked hungrily at his phone screen which caught my suspicions. My eyebrow shot up, as Calvin rolled his eyes, and shoved his phone in his pocket when he saw me staring at it, accusingly. 

He walked to the Staff Room with a broom in hand with an irritable grumble. Maurice and I both exchanged glances and continued our conversation. 

"So...?" She eagerly pressed in, clearly wanting all the details. 

"Yes, yes I do! But I'm not all that sure she-" 

"She does! Oh-ho, she does!"Maurice admitted, and squealed quietly. I couldn't help my smile, at her reassurance. There was shouting in the staff room, no doubt about it, Calvin was picking a fight with Greta and she was not having it. 

"No! Just get out, I don't need your help! Get out!" 

"Maurice just told me to help you!" 

"Yes and I thank you for helping with what you did. Now if you want to really help me, GET OUT OF HERE! Oh, and give me a band-aid because you cut me." 

I heard some inaudible words and Calvin stormed out of the room, stomping to a first aid box behind the desk Maurice and I were currently conversating at and continued stomping back and throwing the box into the Staff Room

"I will literally punch you in the throat!" I heard Greta shout at Calvin who scurried out of the room. Again, nosey costumers tried to casually make their way closer to the situation. After Greta's comment, I knew I made the right decision in asking her on a date. 

She appeared in the doorway and tried to look as composed as possible, but failed. Her hair was in a mess off one shoulder and she was breathing heavily, while holding flowers in a canning jar, and the other clutching her chest. 

I began to laugh hysterically, bending over. She walked quickly over as some customers left, when I looked up to face her, it didn't look so good. My smile faded once I saw that her face was pale and her breathing began to stir. She began to shake her head, hurriedly. 

 She mumbled something, and suddenly shook off her worried look, her smile returning fake and unconvincing smile. 

"What did you say? Greta, are you alright?" I asked her, taking a step towards her. 

"I didn't say anything. I'm fine. I promise." She replied, like she was hiding something but still trying to convince herself she was what she said she was. Knowing it was not my place to bug her, I let it go. 

Greta POV- 

I strode into the Staff Room, trying to contain the school-girl giddiness that resided in me after James gave me those flowers. My heart fluttered and once I reached the room and the door was shut, and collapsed against it, in exasperation. 

How come he seemed so calm and collective when handing them to me, yet I felt my throat travel to my brain. Had I composed my emotions well enough to not give away that I was completely flabergasted by the action? 

I opened one of the cabinets that lay at the back of the room, along with tables and a kitchen sink. Inside were several Mason jars. I pulled one out, in my own flower daze, when I heard Maurice yell something I couldn't quite make up, but the most important part, I was able to process. It was something along the lines of:

"-Ask her out!" 

My body tensed and, I felt myself jump. But unfortunately, so did the Mason jar I was grabbing, and it went soaring in the air. I tried to catch it, but just as unfortunately, I was completely uncoordinated so my attempt was to waste. 

It crashed into the ground with a loud 'CRACK' and I felt the entire store freeze. I knew I had to do something, and do something fast. People would wonder too much, and want to help and I don't want to explain what happened because I still wasn't able to process what was happening around me. 

Was he asking another girl out and just giving me the flowers because he wanted to let me down easily, and that he never really liked me? I couldn't help but feel that way deep down inside. Maybe she was prettier. Skinnier. Maybe she had more sex appeal. Don't guys normally do that nowadays? I wanted to quit thinking about the woman, and think about how to fix the problem being handed to me. 

"Uh...I'm fine! I'm okay!" I shouted, so that everyone can hear me. I could just think of what everyone was doing outside those doors and I was considering never showing my face again. I honestly never wanted to. I couldn't believe my heart actually felt something whenever he looked at me, whenever he smiled or laughed. 

But then part of me wondered, if I...possibly...could be the girl. I mean, I saw him almost everyday of the week he was here. There was no possible way he could meet another girl with all the time he spent with me. 

"I just-" I stammered, trying to think of an excuse right on the spot, "I just thought I saw a spider!" I nodded in acceptance of my justification. And then, in the midst of my hopefulness, I had a thought. A sickening thought. 

There was one day he missed. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't clinging on everyday just expecting him to show up, and I sure didn't want all his Ohio-sight-seeing to be of me. 

Knowing the odds were stacked against, yet at the same time, for me, I began to clean up my broken glass mess. And as if my situation couldn't get any worse, Calvin barged in the door. 

"I'm giving you help." He demanded, and roughly shoved a broom and dustpan at my face. Luckily, I caught it just before . "Here." 

"Oh thanks." I said in a flat voice. "You're my hero." 

"What? I'm trying to help!" He defended himself. I rolled my eyes. I stood straight and began to sweep the glass. I got almost all the glass except for one big, sharp looking piece. I bent down to pick it up, when Calvin smacked my hand into the glass. 

"Don't pick up glass with your hands." He ordered. "You'll cut yourself." I inspected my finger and saw blood draw from a gash I got on my finger. My mind seemed to wonder to my accident, the gash on my abdomen. The one that, if never present, could have saved Alexis's life. 

I pushed it away, and continued working. 

"I think you need to leave now, please." I said with shaky breath. He snorted. 

"No. Maurice told me to help." 

"No! Just get out, I don't need your help! Get out!" I shouted at him. He stayed persistent and I stayed annoyed, and freaked out. 

"Maurice just told me to help you!" Calvin argued. 

"Yes and I thank you for helping with what you did. Now if you want to really help me, GET OUT OF HERE! Oh, and give me a band-aid because you cut me." I added, and Calvin stormed out of the room. I thanked God he wouldn't see me this way. I didn't have the guts to put him through that. Neither did I think he did. I continued to clean, wearily. 

Calvin soon entered again, with a first aid box and chucked it lazily at my head. I cowered and my head couldn't help but travel to the explosion when I had put my arms over my head and used my body to protect the children. 

I couldn't function anymore. I don't remember what I told him, but it must have been mean. He left when he saw me, breathing heavily on the ground, and didn't bother to help me. My heart began to pound again, but not as bad as my last one. 

I tried to control it, and forget it was happening. It had worked before, so I figured I would be just fine. I made my way out the door, and felt myself wobble a bit. I regained my composure and noticed the store staring at me. 

James was laughing at me, probably hearing what I had said, and his laugh somehow made me feel the need to smile. It was fake, but it was all I could do. 

"I thought these were getting better." I mumbled to myself. James quit laughing, and concern drew on his face. 

"What did you say? Greta, are you alright?" 

"Yeah...I didn't say anything. I'm fine. I promise." I nodded, reassuringly. But I wasn't so sure if I was assuring James, or myself. 

+++ 

Alright! So, if you didn't guess already, Greta has *tadaaaa* experienced one of her smaller less dangerous panic attacks, she normally got daily before she met...HIM *sprinkles happiness* 

You know guys? The key to happiness...is truly...and simply...JOY! (If you see what I did there you are my bes fren) 

Well, I don't have another chapter on the works, but I want to get this out to you. I'm really sorry if there are any mistakes or it feels repetitive, I will look at it again some other time, I promise! 

ALSO I JUST WROTE 5000 WORDS CONGRATULATE ME GUYS 

IF YOU LIKED THIS

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And I'll see you as soon as I can in the next chapter! (I would expect another one around next Thursday just so I can keep it going in the schedule I have :) )