AN:  hello. . . *turns around on a spinny chair with bruises and a black eye* this represents me after writing this. 

Be prepared. 

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James POV-

I completely forgot all about my nerves the moment Greta and I made conversation. Through stories of weird aunts and cat pictures (she swears she's not obsessed with her cat), the knot soon diminished to a flutter every time we made eye contact. I almost forgot about her silver eyes, and how cold they used to look when I first met her. The bar lights would shine into them and turn them almost white and I'd lose my train of thought.

Now they were a warm light blue. Almost as if blue was supposed to be there all the time.

The date went extremely well, and I knew the moment I started, I'd be content to go back to London for the time being until I was to return to Salt Lake City.

"So then, my uncle was kicked out on Christmas Eve. I don't blame my father for doing so. He set our tree on fire." Greta told me, as she happily munched on a French fry. "He's in prison now." She added not long after.  We sat at a table for two in a new restaurant downtown just a street away from the stadium. I Nonni was the name of the restaurant. And a stupid one too. Why would you name your restaurant something no one can pronounce correctly? 

The lights that were situated on the stadium illuminated a mile away and a college football game played on several television screens attached to the walls. If we came to this restaurant any later we'd have to sit across the restaurant where you'd have to shout to hear over the drunken laughing and crashing.

Very classy for a burger bar, I think. 

I figured that wasn't as romantic as I wanted this to be. But then again, I'm so romantic. After all, I'm taking Greta to a ball game for a first date.

"What did your uncle do to get in prison?" I asked, after chuckling and taking a bite of my own food.

"Let a tiger out of its cage at the Salt Lake Zoo. Yeah, he got sued for all his money and was sentenced to fifteen years in jail. It was kind of funny." She began to giggle, looking down at her food, her nose wrinkling in laughter. Then, Greta suddenly stopped and gave me a serious, yet teasing, look. "I mean, it wasn't funny at all..." She shook her head slowly, as I gave her a smirk.

"I see now. It obviously wasn't humorous." I teased back.

Bantering back and forth, making casual conversation and learning even more about each other was all I could ever ask for a first date. Well, at least from what I've read from the multiple dating advice forums I've visited. I even watched first date scenes for countless Hollywood films, some were even black and white (Did everyone make out on their dates back then while slow dancing to Frank Sinatra?).

Truth was, I had zero knowledge on what a formal date was supposed to look like, and according to those same forums, Greta and I had been on three dates already all in one week. All the other 'experiences' I had, were not formal in any way, shape, or form and certainly not what I wanted Greta and I's relationship to be.

I'm not even sure what I want our relationship to end up like. All I know is that James Moriarty isn't James Moriarty around her. As cliche as it sounds, it was true. 

"How is everything for you guys?" A waiter asked, walking up to us in his fancy waiter clothes. His hands folded in front of his torso, making him look more important. I noticed him paying special attention to Greta and it made my eyebrows perk up in amusement.

This young man obviously has no idea who I am. 

Then again, no one knows who I really am. 

"Oh, it's really good, thank you! This is new, right?" She responded, making friendly conversation. I grew protective, and (cliche-ly) jealous. But at least I was willing to admit it.  I lazily threw my napkin on the table and lightly laughed to myself.

Them dating forums were correct. A stupid yank is trying to take my woman. They told me to patiently wait until he makes a move and then take her somewhere else and do it fast. I smiled at Greta, showing no teeth to hide my impatientness and wiped my hands on my suit jacket. I wasn't really wearing a suit, just the jacket, and jeans. I felt underdressed compared to Greta, which was probably why the waiter was doing my job for me. Her lips were a dark and bold red, a change I was more than okay with. It really suited her. And the waiter agreed with me, I can see. 

Greta seemed to take notice of my several cues I was hinted to her, and cleared her throat, smiling back at me with the same impression. It was time for me to take my hint. She could take care of it. 

I pulled out my (new) ((whoops)) phone and dialed a code in my keypad that signaled a certain something to my crew behind the scenes in the kitchen. I needed them for safety purposes like if Greta were ever put in danger from some of my enemies recognizing my crew (which is impossible). They're the same every time. The only people I trust with the lives of people like Greta.

Oh, and myself, of course. 

"Oh yes! We just recently opened a week ago! This great city seems to open something new each week!" He exclaimed, over joyous. Greta nodded in fake agreement.

"Yeah, my date and I heard about. . ." She drew out the word 'date'. 

I didn't even hear the rest of her sentence. She acknowledged me. As. Her. Date. 

Score! 

I tried to keep a cry of victory from escaping as heat reached my cheeks. I rubbed them quickly to get rid of that feeling and took a bite of french fries to pass the time.

"Well, whenever you come back, give me a shout and I'll-"

"I'm sorry, you guys, is this bust boy bothering you?" A voice interrupted, and an arm was draped around the waiter's shoulder. An elderly woman with white/blond hair popped up from behind. She wore an eccentric cheetah print shirt and scarf. 

"Maurice!" I shouted in relief when I recognized her. Greta didn't have the same reaction.

"Maurice?" She asked in confusion. "How'd you get here?" Her face was mixed with several emotions that I couldn't quite place. Anger, embarrassment, relief? 

"I was spying from the window, duh." Maurice pushed the waiter out of the way. "If we can just get rid of you." She mumbled to the dumb-struck waiter who was trying to speak in protest but only managed incoherent noises.

"Maurice!" Greta whisper-yelled more sternly, most likely so I wouldn't see the angry version of Greta. "You're ruining my date!" 

"From the looks of it, I was saving it." Maurice argued. I had to agree with  Maurice on this one. She saved my pride. I definitely owed Maurice one. 

"God, Maurice! Just-Just come with me." Greta grumbled. She took Maurice's hand and dragged her across to the other side of the restaurant.

"Bye, James! Lovely seeing you again!" She shouted as she was pulled away. 

"My pleasure, Maurice!" I managed to respond before she was out of earshot. My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and it only held one word.

'Ready '

I smiled into my phone and got up from my seat. I passed to see Greta still chewing out Maurice, and I had to believe that she was going to be doing so for a long time. I slipped past many waiters and into the kitchen where my men were waiting for me to meet them.  I slid on sunglasses that were in my jacket pocket that I always kept with me, in case of a situation like this.

A single chef held a cup for me that held an off-white liquid with a nice little decorative olive floating around. I nodded, and took it, zooming off to find the waiter. Two of the very same men who always follow me trailed behind me, dressed in white chef clothing.

I know, I know, they deserve a raise. A big bonus check. 

It didn't take long to see him holding a tray with one hand and waltzing down a small hall that linked two rooms together. A cart with dirty dishes was randomly placed at the side of the wall. Without making eye contact, I quickly held the cup to his lips and ordered, "Try it." He obeyed quickly, without me having to pause like he'd been trying things all day. His eyelids drew closed in a matter of milli-seconds and the tray dropped, almost falling if one of my men didn't catch it effortlessly before it would tumble and would create a scene. Which we didn't want. The last thing you want when committing a crime is creating a scene.

Unless you're crazy.

Which I'm not denying I'm not.

The waiter himself staggered, and the other man caught him, just as effortlessly as the first and all three of us dragged him out the swing doors. Other waiters, waitresses, and chefs crowded around and for the first time, I heard one of my men speak.

"He needs air, too many customers." From what I could make of it, his voice was gruff and low and I was somewhat jealous of it. Following me, I slammed open the door to the outside where some truckers were unloading boxes.

Most of them looked curiously at what was going on with the waiter being dragged out of the restaurant. When I made a drink symbol with my hand and pretended to chug, signaling drunkenness, they all shrugged and continued working. Like they see this every day. 

We dropped him next to an alleyway, that was full of trashcans and apartment buildings strategically placed next to the restaurant. One of the men checked his pulse, holding out a thumbs up. Watching them throw the dead waiter into a huge community trash can, I headed back to my date through the front entrance.

I wished we could have done better but with our current situation, it was impossible to do better. I'll just make sure some of my men go undercover as dumpster men and dispose of it themselves. When I re-entered the restaurant, Greta was still chewing out poor Maurice who looked like she was just slapped on the wrist.

I slipped behind the waiters with trays and, with my luck, made it back to the table before she could see me.

It didn't take long for her to get back, Maurice-free. I smiled at her, with a teasing glint in my eyes.

"How about we get some good seats at that stadium?" I offered. Greta grinned at me, picking up her overcoat (the same one I gave her).

"Good idea!" She placed it on over her shirt and grabbed her coat. I followed suit, throwing on my own coat. "Oh! Wait!" She reached into her purse, pulling out a twenty for a tip (which I don't think he'll need) and grabbed a ginormous bite of her hamburger, basically taking half of it.

I laughed, as she tried to do the same from inside her closed mouth that was inhabited by meat. And lots of it. We waited until she was able to swallow, which took a long. . .long time.

"Let's get out of here," I said and playfully held out my arm. "Ma'am? Would you be so kind and let me escort you out of this building?"

"It would be my pleasure, sir," Greta said, finally meat free. She took my arm, her delicate hands wrapping around my forearm and leaning in close. I couldn't contain my smile, as we walked out of the front entrance. I held the door open for her who laughed and walked in front of me. Our arms reunited and we were off once again. 

"Aw!" We heard a voice shout and whipped around to see Maurice by the window, gazing starry-eyed at the two of us.

"Go away!" Greta swatted at her from afar and rolled her eyes, teasingly. "She's never done this before, I swear. Only around you apparently." She tried to apologize for Maurice but I stopped her.

"I'm not offended if you're worried. I think it's hilarious! She's probably one of my favorite people now, to be honest." I confessed. I looked behind to see Maurice still in her spot. She waved at me, childishly. I waved back quickly and Greta and I walked, arm in arm, side by side, to the baseball game I was no longer worried about.

After all, it only goes uphill from there.

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Greta and I finally found our seats after buying a huge tub of french fries (even after all the food we ate at the restaurant) and peanuts to share. We both settled that we would get ice cream in a good spot during the game.

Conversating back and forth, we waited and watched the minor league players warm up. About fifteen minutes went by when Greta threw a French fry at me.

"Hey!" I cried, laughing. I was just about to throw a French fry of my own when an old couple, dressed in all black. We both watched as they sat strategically behind us. The elderly lady tripped on one of the stairs and the man caught her just in time before she hit the ground,

"Woah, watch yourself there Maurice." He had a thick Australian accent. Greta and I both turned to face each other in disbelief. I heard a slap and a grunt. "Uh, I mean...Mario!" A sudden fake Italian accent surfaced. Did I mention it was completely fake? We turned back to look at the couple.

Unmistakably, Maurice was stalking our date. Again.

"Right. Yup. And I'm Luigi, right? Yeah. Luigi and Mario. . . Where have I heard those names before?" The elderly man continued to ramble. Maurice put her hand on his shoulder. 

"Lawrence, Lawrence honey. Just-Just stop. They already know we're here." She spoke gently, obviously avoided Greta's eyes, which were fuming. I don't think I've seen her that angry before. But something tells me if I keep seeing her, I'm going to be getting some of my own angry Greta. 

"Oh. I thought we were doing great with the whole spy thing. . ." The man, who I now know as Lawrence, pouted. "Well." He suddenly sprung back to life. "Now we can sit by Greta!" He made his way back down and plopped himself right next to her. 

I could tell Greta was trying so hard to be mad and was wearing a kept-back smile. Finally losing the battle, her head fell in her hands, laughing hysterically. 

"You guys are going to be the death of me someday." She mumbled into her hands. Dramatically bring her head back up, she smiled at me and laughed. 

All four of us began to talk with each other. I got to know Lawrence more (which was just a male version of Maurice) and was given advice on how to handle Greta, which was really amusing. Apparently, she's into this show called, 'Doctor Who' which is really popular in my country. Lawrence and Maurice told me to look out when she finishes a season. Greta claims it's because of 'all the feels'. 

Out of every one of us, I believe Lawrence and Greta were most into the game. I should have known by the way her eyes widened when I told her my idea of seeing the ball game. She looked like a small child who found out Christmas was coming early. 

Whenever someone was up to bat, they would share stats of their last game and predict what they thought would happen. They would even bet on who's prediction was right. By the end of the game, Greta was thirty bucks in debt by Lawrence. 

Maurice didn't tell me she had a gambling problem. She should see me in London when I gamble.

It gets rough, let me tell you. No one crosses my men in that warehouse that doesn't leave either broke or dead. 

When the game was over, Lawrence and Greta talked about it the whole way out of the stadium, Greta reenacting plays that were 'absolutely mind-blowing' to her no matter who was around her. One play was when one of the outfielders jumped over the wall to catch the baseball, and unfortunately, Greta decided to act out that one. When she went for the huge jump, she completely ran into someone, knocking them to the ground. An apologetic (and hysterical) mess, she attempted to help him up but he shrugged her off and walked away faster. The two of us lost it. We were laughing so hard we were almost on the ground. 

Tears were coming out of my eyes! That has never happened before! 

When the four of us finally made it out of the busy stadium, we parted ways and it was just Greta and I, alone once again.

We walked back after taking a cab to the bookstore. The autumn air swept leaves in a swirling pattern on the sidewalk. The trees swayed and the moonlight illuminated the street lights even more than normal. It was a beautiful night out, and one I'd never forget. 

"I really, really enjoyed this, you know." Greta said out of nowhere, as we rounded the corner just feet away from her stop. I smiled at her. 

"I hope so. I enjoyed it too." I agreed. She gave me a grin and looked down at her feet. 

"I loved this whole week, to be honest. Every moment of it, it was an amazing weep. One I don't want to stop." She continued to look down as she spoke. I tilted my head, gazing at the hair that fell in front of her face. "It was what I needed all these years. The one thing I've never had for so long." 

"And what was that?" I inched, curious in her next answer. 

"Joy." Greta said, taking a shaky breath. "I've been sad for so long. I don't know, I guess you could say I was 'blinded by my own demons'." She quoted, half-way making fun of herself. I gave her a sympathetic look or a look at sympathetic as I could get. I was known for not expressing my emotions well enough on my face. We reached her steps, and she stood taller than me now, as I was standing in front of her. 

I wanted to spill everything I was to her right now. Just let it all go because I knew she didn't need all of my brokenness. She already has to deal with her own. I fought it well enough to keep it all down. 

The wind blew in her hair that went partially in front of her face, making it hard to see it. 

"I guess what I'm trying to say is. . ." Her breath staggered as I stepped closer to her, and tucked the hair in her face beneath her ear. "Thank you. So very much. If this is the last I ever see of you, I'd be-" 

"Oh, believe me, Greta Levine. It's not." I assured. We were inches from each other. I wanted to lean closer but I was too scared to make the first move. After all, it was only the first date. She laughed quietly and ducked her head. 

"Alright. So I'll meet you in a couple of weeks again?" She asked, her eyes hopeful for an answer. A small smile spread across my face and I nodded. 

"Yes, you will." I confirmed. She grinned and suddenly shivered. 

"Ooh! It's cold outside." Greta hid more in her coat. I laughed at her. 

"Yes, it is." I agreed. 

"Do you want to go inside?" She offered, motioning a hand at the bookshop. "We can make hot cocoa or coffee?" 

I sighed, my smile dropping. Shivering into my own coat, I spoke, 

"I'd love to, really. But I better pack for tomorrow. I gotta leave early in the morning." I declined the offer, and I could tell Greta was really upset. "But I'll get you something from London when I come back." 

Her face changed to a small smile, her bright red lips now a dark maroon in the bright moonlight. Her blue eyes shimmered back to its usual gray. My heart broke a little when I finally noticed it. 

"I don't care about that. I just need you back here." She admitted. 

"I will be, don't you worry one bit. I'll do whatever it takes, I promise you." 

And a promise is not something James Moriarty makes. Only for Greta Levine. It will only ever be for Greta Levine. 

She nodded her head, and I couldn't tell if I saw small tears brimming in her eyes or if it was just the tricks of the moon. She made her way into the bookshop, turning to look back at me one last time. 

I'll come home again. In a week, I'll be back home. 

Home at last. The word home echoed through my mind, making my mind spin. I rather liked that world. To call Children's street my home. 

To call Greta Levine my home. 

I turned back around and got to the end of the sidewalk to head to the hotel when I heard a voice shout, 

"Wait! Wait, please!" I spun around to see Greta running down the shop stairs like a maniac. Her hair swirling around her, and her eyes nervous. I almost thought I had forgot something when I felt lips on my cheek. 

A slow kiss on the cheek. 

Something so small, something I never knew I needed. Something I could get lost in, something she could get lost in me. 

Before I knew it, she was gone again, disappearing into the shop. 

Gone for the time being, but not for long. 

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AN: 

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