Another day of the Moriarty trial was about to begin. Unlike yesterday, I didn't question whether or not I was heading to Old Bailey again to watch. I knew I wanted to head back; there was no doubt about it. I doubted today would be as interesting as yesterday though.

Unlike yesterday, Sherlock wasn't going. John and I weren't about to convince him. We both caught a taxi to the courthouse.

It wasn't long before John decided to break the silence.

"I can't understand something," he told me.

"What's that?" I glared out the window.

"How you managed to get in a mess with Moriarty."

I cringed. "That's not something I'm happy about."

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, I was just wondering. To me, it doesn't make sense. You don't seem to be the kind of woman that's into what he does."

"I'm not," I agreed. I looked down at my clasped hands in my lap, heaved a sigh. "Let's just say I fell into one of his traps. Being in his care wasn't fun."

"Did he hurt you?"

"Yes, more so emotionally than physically." I picked at my nails. "I really hope this is all over soon."

Before John could rope me into further conversation, my mind wandered.

~*~

"You're running up my bill with all this champagne," I whimpered as I took another sip from the glass I held in my hand. "I'm sure you picked the most expensive one too, didn't you?"

"You deserve the best, Rachel," he crooned. "And don't worry about that part, any room service I'll pay for."

"Even though everything is under my name, you're willing to pay for room service?"

"Why not? It would be wrong to let you pay for everything."

I shuddered, feeling the effects of the champagne seep into my body. I leapt off the chair, stretching. The champagne inside the glass swirled around, dancing. Soft music was playing in the hotel room. A light bulb went off in my head. "Jim, how good of a dancer are you?"

"I have nothing amazing to brag about. Why?"

"I suddenly feel like dancing."

"That's the champagne talking, darling. But if you want to, you better put the glass down. We're not letting that spill on the floor." Jim came to me, snatching the glass away. He set it down before taking me in his arms.

Jim respectively had an arm around my middle while his other hand occupied one of mine that wasn't on his shoulder. I really didn't expect to find someone when coming to London. Then again, I hadn't expected to be nearly raped on my first night here, and yet that almost happened. Life threw us unexpected things whenever it felt like it.

Meeting Jim Moriarty was one of the better unexpected things.

"How much longer are you staying?" he asked me as we spun slowly in a circle.

"Hmm...it can't be too much longer. I booked a month here. And it's been, what, two weeks? Or has it been three? I don't know, I can't think straight right now."

However long I had been here in London, it had taken that long for me to fall for Jim. We got along so well. I knew something had started between us when he had somehow slipped me his number right after I got settled in at the hotel.

"Do you want to head back home?"

I frowned. "I don't think I do. Don't get me wrong, I'll have to go back at some point, just...not yet. I'm having way too much fun here, especially with you." I smiled sheepishly. It was hard for me to meet Jim's eyes, especially since if I did, I'd blush rose-red. "Call me crazy, but I'm afraid of what would happen if this turned long distance."

"There is such a thing as mobiles, Rachel."

"Mobiles?"

"Oh, sorry. You'd know them as 'cell phones'."

"It's just...different, being in other countries, you know? Long distance doesn't have the same feel as actually being able to see that someone every day."

"That is true," Jim admitted. "If you don't want to leave, you can always extend your stay."

"I don't think I can afford to do that," I confessed sadly. I readjusted my hand on his shoulder.

"Well...there's always another option."

"What's that?"

"I can pay for it."

I blinked hugely. "Jim, you don't need to do that. You shouldn't spend your money on me."

"Why not?" he challenged. He pulled me in tighter. "It's my choice, and I want to do it."

I sighed through my nostrils. "I have a feeling this is one of those things where I'll end up losing, am I right?"

"You are, kitten." He buried his head into my neck.

"I think you've had a little too much." I giggled.

"Is that such a bad thing?"

We stopped dancing. I felt like I was going to melt as Jim was peppering kisses down my neck. I closed my eyes in bliss. Tingles shot through me as he claimed my lips in his. God, I could do this all night. Maybe that was the champagne talking.

I leaned against him as his fingers slid along the length of my back. We gazed into each other's eyes, green meeting brown. My body ruined the moment by making me yawn.

"All those drinks are catching up to you," Jim sang.

"Carry me to bed?" I proposed, batting my eyes at him.

Instead of doing that, he escorted me to bed. My body relaxed even more as sheets slipped over my body. Instead of trying to sneak in any tricks, Jim slid in beside me. I burrowed into him, letting his radiating body heat warm me.

Jim kissed every inch of my face tenderly, making me tiredly giggle. I kept my eyes closed, sighing happily.

"I hope this doesn't end," I mumbled. "I don't want it to."

"You definitely had a lot to drink, Rachel. You don't know what you're saying."

I yawned again. "No, I do. I mean it."

If Jim really wanted to pay for my stay here, I would probably have him bankrupt, because I couldn't see myself leaving for quite some time.

~*~

I couldn't believe I had been thinking back to that awful memory. Well, in truth, it wasn't really bad, but it was at the same time. That man I had first met when arriving in London had been nothing but an act, a fake. I had fallen for it so easily. Every time I thought back on times like those, back when I thought I knew Jim Moriarty so well, I hated myself. I hated that I was such an idiot. I hated Moriarty especially for playing me like he had. He probably would have gotten away with it much longer had I not discovered he was a monster. I may have never discovered the truth at all if he had kept up the charade.

I had to wonder: would the end result have been the same? Would I have gotten my heart torn to shreds in the end, whether or not I found out his true self?

"Rachel?" John's voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

"Hmm?" I looked at him.

"Are you all right? You're crying."

Hastily, I wiped my eyes. "I'm fine." I looked out the window to see Old Bailey before us. "We're here."

We got settled in the same courtroom as before. I felt a vague sense of déjà vu sweep over me. The only thing that reminded me that yesterday wasn't repeated was that Sherlock wasn't present this time. Could be for the better, he got himself locked up yesterday.

John and I sat in the public viewing area, having a good view of the trial. Today was the defense's turn. Though I was high up, it didn't prevent me from shooting daggers at Moriarty. The anger in me wished I had something to chuck at him, or even a gun to shoot at him. He wasn't worth murdering; I just wanted him to feel the same pain as I had.

Did a man like Moriarty even feel pain, or know what it was?

"Mr. Crayhill," said the judge, "can we have your first witness?"

The man rose to his feet. The room went silent, ready to listen. "Your Honor, we're not calling any witnesses."

Shocked murmurs exploded in the courtroom. John and I exchanged surprised looks. Did we hear that right?

"I don't follow," the judge said, speaking for the entire room. "You've entered a plea of not guilty."

"Nevertheless, my client is offering no evidence," Mr. Crayhill repeated. "The defense rests." He sat himself back down.

I stiffened when Moriarty turned to look over his shoulder up at the public viewing area. I had a rough hunch as to where his eyes were: either on John, me, or the both of us. Moriarty shrugged. My jaw locked, I felt the sudden urge to pounce out of my seat.

"Easy," John whispered to me. He had a hand on my arm. "He wants you to react. Don't let him get the better of you. Relax."

Taking deep breaths through my nose, I relaxed. My hands were no longer fists; I felt dents in my palm from where my nails had bit into them. John was right; Moriarty was trying to get a reaction out of me. Well, he got one.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury," the judge addressed. Once again, the room went taciturn. "James Moriarty stands accused of several counts of attempted burglary, crimes which—if he's found guilty—will elicit a very long custodial sentence, and yet his legal team has chosen to offer no evidence whatsoever to support their plea. I find myself in the unusual position of recommending a verdict wholeheartedly. You must find him guilty."

While the verdict was being decided, everyone took a breather. John sat on one of the benches outside of the room. I couldn't sit; I paced back and forth in front of him.

"There's no way he's going to be seen as not guilty," I ranted. "There's just no way. No evidence, no witnesses. He's practically giving himself to the guilty verdict. Nothing is right about this."

I stopped my pacing as someone—I think he was the Clerk of the Court—headed for the courtroom.

"They're coming back," he announced.

"That's six minutes," John said.

"Surprised it took them that long, to be honest. There's a queue for the loo." He disappeared into the room. I waited for John patiently before we headed back in.

It didn't take long for everyone to be seated and situated again. My pulse thundered in my ears. I was chanting the verdict in my head. Guilty, guilty, guilty. There was no other verdict in my eyes.

All eyes went to the Clerk of the Court as he stood. He looked towards the jury.

"Have you reached a verdict on which you all agree?" he asked them.

I watched the jury closely, just like everyone else. I saw one of the members shake his head slightly. Another jury member—a woman—got to her feet. I sensed something was off; there was an unpleasant look in her eyes. My heart dropped into my feet. No, there's no way. She can't say it. All the signs point the other way!

When the verdict was given, everyone was stunned, and—I was sure—internally outraged. 

**as you slowly get the origin of Rariarty (RachelxMoriarty) you can't help but wonder....real or not real?**