Partners In Crime: Beginners Luck - A BBC Sherlock Fanfiction [COMPLETED]

Chapter 3: At Your Service

"Beauty is deceitful."

*************************

Moriarty found a way to contact her a few days later. 

By then, the paper's had started calling her 'The Heartbreaker'. Some random person had suggested the name one day, and it had stuck. No one really knew her. None of his criminal web had ever heard of her before. It was as if she had been tossed onto Earth. Yet it was obvious that she was talented. And it was obvious that she was a she. No one except for a very petite woman would squeeze into a ten inch air duct, and still have enough room to wiggle around a little bit.

He had painted her symbol onto random places around the world, and a computer code. If deciphered correctly, she would have his phone number.

He got a call a few hours after he put up the code in a certain spot in downtown London.

"Who the hell are you?!"

Ah. Female and American. His suspicions about her gender were correct.

He smirked, "I'm the man who's offering you a job."

Her tone softened, "Where and when?"

***********************

A restaurant in London. A rather high end place. Everyone inside was dressed up in suits or long, flowing dresses. Moriarty ended up sitting in a corner table, away from the crowd. Not that he minded. He liked it, actually. The center of the room was too noisy for his taste, and he intended to talk to his potential employee uninterrupted.

When she finally did come, he thought maybe the wrong woman had showed up. She was short, about an inch shorter than him, and wearing a modest white long sleeved shirt, with a thigh length skirt and leggings, along with sensible high heels, and thick rimmed glasses. Her black hair was short, and only went down a little farther than her chin. "H-h-h-hello," She stuttered, nervously swooping a few strands of loose hair behind her ear, "A-are you o-o-offering m-me a j-job?"

He was regretting this already...

"Yes. Yes I am."

"Thank god!" he was briefly taken aback by how her stutter was gone, replaced with a confident, loud voice that sounded both terrifying and painfully sweet at the same time. She bent over, laughing, "I went to three wrong restaurants before this one!" She threw her glasses over her shoulder, which landed in some man's soup, before sitting down across from him. "I'm the so called 'Heartbreaker'. Nice to meet you."

"And your real name?"

"What's yours?" she retorted.

"James Moriarty."

"Well then, let's eat. What's the job offer?"

He got a closer look at her, observing the shade of grey to her eyes. She was wearing a cheap necklace, and he chuckled to see that it was the same symbol she left behind at her crimes. She must have had it custom made. "You'd think someone would have made the connection between your necklace and the crimes..."

She laughed, "As if. They're so... Ordinary!"

"I couldn't agree more."

They talked, and they ate. At the end, they both stood up.

"So," Moriarty offered his hand, "Do we have a deal?"

She took it with a smirk, "Lizbeth Constance, at your service."