It Started With Stealing | Sherlock Holmes

93 - Trial Of The Century

They stopped outside the door to an interview room.

Due to how grave his crimes were, Jim shouldn't have been getting visitors at all, but Mycroft wanted Elizabeth to meet with him, wishfully thinking that she would be able to coax some more incriminating information out of him. The trick was doing it without giving incriminating evidence on herself.

Roberts unlocked the heavy door but paused before opening it, "If he shows you his other side and you don't like it or can't take it, just knock on the door and I'll get you out."

Elizabeth wanted to laugh. He did do things she didn't like and she did try to get out but funnily enough, it was as though the door had been opened half way and she was being crushed between it and the door frame. But instead she nodded and gave Roberts a little smile.

The door whined as he opened it and there, in the room, sat Jim at a table, across from the other chair and facing her with an unsettling smile.

She stepped in.

The door whined shut.

Jim shuffled in his seat, sitting up a little straighter, his cuffed hands beckoning her to come and sit.

"Hello." Came his musical voice, "You know I don't bite, Lizzie, you can sit down."

And she did, wordlessly, letting the chair legs scrape harshly across the floor as she pulled it away from the table.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"What are you doing?" She asked, not wanting to mess about.

Jim scoffed, "Hardly your best line of enquiry, Liz."

"What. Are you doing?"

Jim slid his cuffed hands across the table, as far as they would reach as he leant across the table to whisper, "Playing the game." He grinned.

"I'm not here to play games - "

"Bo-o-oring!" He slumped back in his chair, "You used to love playing the game with me. You love playing the game with the detective now but he's boring and he's rubbed off on you."

"No. I don't like playing these games. I never did."

"You know, you used to be so fun!" He announced, his voice exaggerated, "Now you're just 'Plain Jane' from 'Plain London Town'."

"No." Elizabeth shook her head, "I'm really just sick of your games."

"Let's play a game - "

"Jim - "

"I'm thinking of a number." He stated, "Guess."

"I'm not guessing. I'm not playing."

"Then..." Jim leant his head down towards his hands so he could mimic zipping them shut, smiling as he sat back up again.

Elizabeth sighed, "Eight?"

He mimicked the sound of a buzzer, "Wrong! Seven, I was thinking of seven."

"Why?"

"That's how old you were when I took you away from that abusive step-father of yours. Although, I was meant to take your smokin' hot sister - " He gasped in faux shock and shut his mouth tightly for a second, "I shouldn't have said that..."

The thief blinked, frowned, shook her head, sat back, searched his eyes for something that told her it was a joke.

"Oh," Jim laughed, "Your face. Oh, Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie."

"What do you mean?"

"Mean about what? I said nothing." He shrugged, a glimmer of amusement twinkling is mischievous, dark gaze.