Fic: Playtime
Title: Playtime
Author: brate7
Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Rating: PG
Word Count: 586
Summary: Little Jimmy Moriarty loved to play.
Note: Originally posted at thegameison_sh for the prompt "story about character, at least five years older or younger than current age on the show."
Warning: Mention of animal/insect abuse.
Playtime
By Brate
Jimmy scowled at the other kids as he walked past. They were playing on the swings, running around, and laughing, oblivious--he had more important games to play. He walked far enough away that he wouldn't be disturbed, but not too far. He didn't want his latest nanny to report his bad behavior to Father.
He tuned everything out and set about catching some playmates.
"Whacha doing?"
Jimmy didn't pay attention to the voice, because he knew it wasn't for him. No one ever talked to him--they thought he was weird.
A tap on his shoulder had him whipping around, startled. There stood a girl about his age, wearing a pink dress, her long brown hair pulled to the side and tied with a bow.
"I said whacha doing?" she asked, smiling shyly. Great. Another silly girl.
"Nothing," Jimmy said, wishing she would leave him alone. He turned so his back was to her, but she followed him around, trying to see what he was hiding. Finally he sighed, giving up. "It's a game," he said, detaching a wing from the musca domestica with as much precision as his tweezers would allow. "To see what they do when they have only one. Or none."
She let out a squeak and covered her mouth with a hand. "That's mean."
"It's just a fly," he defended. Jimmy knew she wouldn't get it--no one did.
"It's still mean. How would you like it if a fly pulled your arms off?"
Jimmy made a face. "That's stupid. No fly could do that to a human. Not even the world's biggest fly and the world's tiniest baby." As soon as it was out of his mouth, he wished he could take it back. He didn't want her to leave, though he wasn't sure why. Tensing, he waited for her to walk away in a huff.
Instead she sat down next to him. Jimmy was so surprised he let go of the fly and watched it fall. She leaned against him--gosh, she smelled nice--as she took something out of her far pocket.
Eyeing him from under her lashes, she displayed her treasure: a dead frog.
Setting it on the ground, she reached into her other pocket and pulled out a folding knife. "It's okay to play with something if it's already dead," she told him. "My da owns a mortuary and he plays with dead things all the time."
Jimmy couldn't help but be impressed. He'd never met anyone else--especially a girl--who liked to play the same games he did. "Wow."
She grinned, bright and wide. "My name's Molly."
"I'm Jimmy."
They spent the afternoon slowly carving up the amphibian.
****
Jimmy shuffled his weight from foot to foot, pretending not to be waiting for Molly. It didn't matter. As soon as he saw her at the entrance, he hurried to her side. "You ready?"
She nodded, then reached out and took his hand. He marveled at the feel of soft skin. "Let's go."
As one, they moved around the park, looking under rocks and beneath bushes, searching for their next plaything. A half-hour later, they'd found nothing. But Jimmy wasn't worried. Tugging on Molly's sleeve, he led her to a huge tree in the back corner of the park.
Jimmy went one way while Molly circled the other. When she ran across the squirrel he had placed there earlier that day, she clapped and giggled, delighted.
Jimmy smiled. He couldn't wait to give her another body.
Author: brate7
Fandom: Sherlock BBC
Rating: PG
Word Count: 586
Summary: Little Jimmy Moriarty loved to play.
Note: Originally posted at thegameison_sh for the prompt "story about character, at least five years older or younger than current age on the show."
Warning: Mention of animal/insect abuse.
Playtime
By Brate
Jimmy scowled at the other kids as he walked past. They were playing on the swings, running around, and laughing, oblivious--he had more important games to play. He walked far enough away that he wouldn't be disturbed, but not too far. He didn't want his latest nanny to report his bad behavior to Father.
He tuned everything out and set about catching some playmates.
"Whacha doing?"
Jimmy didn't pay attention to the voice, because he knew it wasn't for him. No one ever talked to him--they thought he was weird.
A tap on his shoulder had him whipping around, startled. There stood a girl about his age, wearing a pink dress, her long brown hair pulled to the side and tied with a bow.
"I said whacha doing?" she asked, smiling shyly. Great. Another silly girl.
"Nothing," Jimmy said, wishing she would leave him alone. He turned so his back was to her, but she followed him around, trying to see what he was hiding. Finally he sighed, giving up. "It's a game," he said, detaching a wing from the musca domestica with as much precision as his tweezers would allow. "To see what they do when they have only one. Or none."
She let out a squeak and covered her mouth with a hand. "That's mean."
"It's just a fly," he defended. Jimmy knew she wouldn't get it--no one did.
"It's still mean. How would you like it if a fly pulled your arms off?"
Jimmy made a face. "That's stupid. No fly could do that to a human. Not even the world's biggest fly and the world's tiniest baby." As soon as it was out of his mouth, he wished he could take it back. He didn't want her to leave, though he wasn't sure why. Tensing, he waited for her to walk away in a huff.
Instead she sat down next to him. Jimmy was so surprised he let go of the fly and watched it fall. She leaned against him--gosh, she smelled nice--as she took something out of her far pocket.
Eyeing him from under her lashes, she displayed her treasure: a dead frog.
Setting it on the ground, she reached into her other pocket and pulled out a folding knife. "It's okay to play with something if it's already dead," she told him. "My da owns a mortuary and he plays with dead things all the time."
Jimmy couldn't help but be impressed. He'd never met anyone else--especially a girl--who liked to play the same games he did. "Wow."
She grinned, bright and wide. "My name's Molly."
"I'm Jimmy."
They spent the afternoon slowly carving up the amphibian.
****
Jimmy shuffled his weight from foot to foot, pretending not to be waiting for Molly. It didn't matter. As soon as he saw her at the entrance, he hurried to her side. "You ready?"
She nodded, then reached out and took his hand. He marveled at the feel of soft skin. "Let's go."
As one, they moved around the park, looking under rocks and beneath bushes, searching for their next plaything. A half-hour later, they'd found nothing. But Jimmy wasn't worried. Tugging on Molly's sleeve, he led her to a huge tree in the back corner of the park.
Jimmy went one way while Molly circled the other. When she ran across the squirrel he had placed there earlier that day, she clapped and giggled, delighted.
Jimmy smiled. He couldn't wait to give her another body.