What Kind of Man || Jim Moriarty

Twenty Three

The foreign voice rang through the laptop speakers, a grainy rumble sounding throughout the apartment while she sat at the large dining table. There had been points over the past few weeks where she'd wanted to tear her hair out, rip all of the clothes from her dressing room and smash each bottle of wine over the kitchen floor. All because a computer generated voice wasn't being her friend.

"как дела?" (How are you?) Katherine repeated the words on screen a second later after the artificial woman and then inwardly groaned. It didn't sound right and after a couple of weeks she should have been able to match the basic phrase perfectly without hesitation or needing to hear or read the phonetic spelling.

"Доброе утро." (Good morning) This one was slightly better, sounding more like a tourist reading through a guide book, yet it needed a lot more work. Not to worry though, Moriarty had given her to the end of year...even if along with this language she was to master French as well. It all had something to do with her task of winning over Jim's trust, apparently the key to the first lock was being able to converse with people overseas. For the first time she didn't question why, she just did it.

"Меня зовут Katherine." (My name is Katherine.) Once again she groaned and buried her head in her head, covering her eyes with her finger tips and squeezing. Some people would probably dream to have a job which relied on them sitting at home all day simply learning a language, but it was more infuriating that they imagined. She almost found herself wishing to be back behind than minimalist desk in Moriarty's office which she hadn't seen since the start of the month and the day of their talk.

Since then she'd been doing this between her return to cleaning up other people's mess. A short visit to a run down apartment an hour outside of London were a son had brutally stabbed his mother. That one was startlingly disgusting, and although Jim had told her never to judge clients she couldn't help but be a little irritated by the 20 something year old boy. And another drive down to Sussex where she'd help Sebastian clean up the remind de of a gun fight in a suburban house. It had took a while that one, but at least her wall plastering skills had been improved.

"I took the liberty of letting myself in since you didn't answer the door." All of a sudden, Katherine's back straightened, her elbows banged against the top of the table making her cringe in pain, and her eyes darted around the open space living area in shock. She hadn't heard the door, the knock or it opening. She hadn't heard anyone ascending the stairs and she certainly hadn't heard him walking across the floor to stand only a few feet away, on the opposite side of the table. Had she really been that deep in her thoughts? "I half expected to find you dead." Finally able to shake off the shock, Katherine sat back in her dining chair and then stood to greet him properly. Her heels, a constant part of her dress now whether she be going out or not, tapped on the marble until she was stood in front of him. Moriarty handed her his coat and then kissed her promptly on the lips, all the while keeping that snidely strong smirk proudly in tact.

"I'm sorry." She murmured quietly, going to hang his heavy woollen winter coat on the back of one of the dining chairs. "I didn't hear you."

"Learning?" He inquired toward the laptop still opened by the only pushed back seat, the rest of the table just as perfect as it had been when she'd first moved in near four months ago.

"Yes but..." Katherine leant against the chair back, eyes rolling up in thought as she desperately tried to recall some of the learnt words from memory. "Я плохо говорю по-русски." (My Russian is bad) Letting out a small chuckle upon hearing herself, she blinked hard before looking at Moriarty for his reaction.

"I can hear that." He laughed himself and raised his brow, appearing somewhat pained by the saying. However it passed and he set about heading towards the kitchen, a hand waving a gesture behind him. "Get ready, we're leaving in an hour."