moriarty is a lie

My favourite Andrew Scott characters

Barry (Little White Lie / 2008)

“This is a load of me bullocks!”

An unemployed actor who instantly falls in love with a kids’ TV presenter named Annie. When they meet, however, he starts lying about his actual occupation to impress her…
Barry is a nice, humble young man with a bit of a sarcastic sense of humour and very likeable at first appearance. 

Originally posted by unkindness313

Dan Sherry (Handsome Devil / 2016)

“You spend your whole life being someone else! Who’s gonna be YOU?!”

An English teacher who drills his pupils to find their own voice and not pretending to be someone else even though he makes this kind of mistake himself.
Sherry is a very wise as well as motivating character like Andrew himself. After watching this movie I honestly wished I had a teacher like him…

Originally posted by monsieurwilde

Gethin Roberts (Pride / 2014)

“I’m in Wales. And I don’t have to pretend to be something I’m not. I’m home. And I’m gay. And I’m Welsh!”

A young Welshman who’s in a happy relationship with his boyfriend Jonathan Blake and runs a gay bookshop in London. He left his mum 16 years ago because she couldn’t accept him due to his sexuality and her strong religiousness. 
As we go along the movie we realize what kind of character development he goes through. Starting off as a member of LGSM who helps his friends collect enough money to support the striking miners while avoiding his actual home country and ending up as an eager benefactor who doesn’t want to stop fighting for other people’s rights. 
I think Gethin is also a character who’s a bit more close to Andrew himself, especially because of his shyness when he meets new people and his support for minorities. And that makes him a very loveable character!

Originally posted by thankyou-blessyou

Davin (The Stag / 2013)

“Hi. This is Davin. I’m a friend of Fionan’s who is marrying your sister. This weekend we are going, we are EMBARKING, on a silent walking retreat with some transsexual friends of ours in the rain. And we wanted to let you know that. Uh, you can call me back if you want, but it will be just as I say: Wet and silent. And boring. And weird. Okay? Bye-bye. ”

He’s the best man for the upcoming wedding of his best friend Fionan as well as the organizer of a stag which ends in a hilarious turmoil after the bride’s brother “The Machine” turns up to join them. 
Davin is a bit of a melancholic character. He’s never happy with his current girlfriends and throws over them for every little flaw they have. This is also because he’s still in love with Ruth - the bride-to-be of Fionan. A secret he has kept to himself for a long time…

Originally posted by unkindness313

Vernon Kelly (This Beautiful Fantastic / 2016)

“Slavery was abolished in 1834. Just so you know…”

Vernon is a very, very, very, VERY sweet character! Perhaps one of the sweetest characters Andrew has ever played!
We first meet him as a cook, housekeeper and a widowed father of two little twin girls. He works for Bella Brown’s grumpy neighbour Alfie who treats him like a slave. Which forces Vernon to quit and work for Bella instead. 
He’s a nice, caring and genuine young man who immediately senses other people’s insecurity and manages to make them feel better with only one big hug. 

Originally posted by evajove

Jim Moriarty (Sherlock / 2010 - )

“In a world of locked rooms the man with the key is king. And honey, you should see me in a crown!”

As usual the best part comes last.
Consulting Criminal, King, Mr Sex…You can call him whatever you want because he’s ALL of it!
A wonderful villain and a perfect match for Sherlock Holmes. He’s unpredictable, sexy, evil, funny, scary, mesmerizing, but never boring! Moriarty is so convincing you wouldn’t believe that Andrew is the complete opposite in real life. 

Andrew Scott Appreciation Post

Things I like seeing on Andrew Scott:


Any suit at all

His Paul Mccartney haircut cause it’s super adorbs


Smoking (and bearded dragons)


Teddy bear costumes




Fashion crimes

When he has a bunny nose while talking (also, freckles)

More freckles

Denim jackets

When he ties his regular tie in a bow tie



Neck appreciation

His beautiful smile

His tongue

His nose wrinkle

When he only wears boxers

When he only wears the covers


Sherlock Preference

How they cheer you up


Of course Sherlock would play the violin for you. He learned your favorite song and would play it for you whenever you were sad. If he sensed your sadness, he’d pull out his violin and play a little tune, just to see you smile


Surprisingly Johns way of cheering you up is corny jokes. If he saw that you were down, he’d tell the worst joke or pun he could think of, knowing how much you loved them.His silly jokes would always cheer you up, no matter how cheesy.


Cake was always the answer. No matter the problem, cake made everything better. If that worked for Mycroft, who is to say it wouldn’t work for you. As soon as he figured out you were sad, he’d either pick up a cake or make you one himself. You see the cake and instantly cheer up.


The both of you knew that you were a huge child at heart. Not to lie, but Moriarty was a child inside too. If he learned you were upset, no matter the day or the reason, he’d dress up. usually in a silly outfit or another. Your personal favorite was the “crown jewels.” Of course he’d never tell you that they were the real crown jewels, but your smile was worth all the trouble. 

(Part two ????)

Ex-ca-use Me

Ok, ok, ok, guys.  You mean to tell me that Mycroft just kinda called up Moriarty and was like, “Hey…bro, can you come visit me at my top secret high-security prison castle lock down inescapable government fuck fortress to visit my random ass sister cause she wants a killy play date?  Trust me, it definitely isn’t a trap to get you, one of the most brilliant high-functioning psychopath who has an extraordinarily high kill rate, to lock you up at our perfectly designed especially for you psychopath genius prison but…ya know, come please we’re the government: we never lie.”

And Moriarty was kinda like “…Ok.”


Amnesia (Sherlock x Reader)

Warning: Angst up the ass. Character death and feels. Yeah that it 

I drove by all the places we used to hang out getting wasted

I thought about our last kiss, how it felt the way you tasted

And even though your friends tell me you’re doing fine

You were racing Sherlock back to the flat.  Sherlock (a very drunk one) was stumbling but close behind.

“(Y/n)!!! You’re cheating!!! This coat is slowing me down!!!” His words were slurred and some were stuttered.

You ignored him and continued running until you bumped into the door of 221B.  You fell back and into Sherlock’s arms. A giggle ripped through the two of you “I will catch you when you fall!” Sang the detective from the top of his lungs.

Are you somewhere feeling lonely even though he’s right beside you?
When he says those words that hurt you, do you read the ones I wrote you?
Sometimes I start to wonder, was it just a lie?
If what we had was real, how could you be fine?
‘Cause I’m not fine at all

It was movie night with Mrs. Hudson, John, and Sherlock. The movie of choice was Titanic and sniffles were sound through the room. You and Mrs. Hudson were holding napkins to your noses and eyes.  Sherlock was correcting information and John was throwing popcorn at the black haired man when he interrupted the movie.

I remember the day you told me you were leaving
I remember the make-up running down your face
And the dreams you left behind you didn’t need them
Like every single wish, we ever made
I wish that I could wake up with amnesia
And forget about the stupid little things
Like the way it felt to fall asleep next to you
And the memories I never can escape
'Cause I’m not fine at all

It happened on the way to your job at Scotland Yard.  You felt as if someone was following you but shrugged off the feeling.  A little voice in the back of your head was warning you.  It was words of advice from Sherlock you had received when you first met him. “Always trust your instincts.  If you feel someone watching you someone is most likely watching you.” When you decided to look behind you a rag was placed over your mouth.  Slowly the chemical on the rag began to render you unconscious.

The pictures that you sent me they’re still living in my phone
I’ll admit I like to see them, I’ll admit I feel alone
And all my friends keep asking why I’m not around
It hurts to know you’re happy, yeah, it hurts that you’ve moved on
It’s hard to hear your name when I haven’t seen you in so long

You prayed for Sherlock to find you but your kidnapper made it seem as if it would never happen.  Relentless comments about how he did find you yet filled your brain, while cuts and bruises filled your skin.  After a week of torment, Sherlock found you with blood in your hair and your eyes shut.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N)!!! Wake up, please.  Princess, please wake up!”

A red light appeared in your head and a bullet shot through the air. A letter fell next to the chair and a sobbing Sherlock.  The paper read “Moriarty sends his regards.”

It’s like we never happened, was it just a lie?
If what we had was real, how could you be fine?
'Cause I’m not fine at all
I remember the day you told me you were leaving
I remember the make-up running down your face
And the dreams you left behind you didn’t need them
Like every single wish, we ever made
I wish that I could wake up with amnesia
And forget about the stupid little things
Like the way it felt to fall asleep next to you
And the memories I never can escape

Your funeral was quite except for the sobs of those who attended. Lestrade was like a father to you; John was like a brother; Mrs. Hudson a mother; Molly was your best friend and she couldn’t speak, just cry, And Sherlock was standing there. He lost the love of his life after six months of fighting. Snow fell around the gathering and not a word was spoken.

If today I woke up with you right beside me
Like all of this was just some twisted dream
I’d hold you closer than I ever did before
And you’d never slip away
And you’d never hear me say

The consulting detective stopped playing the stringed instrument and focused on the mantel above a roaring fire. A black velvet box laid untouched for many months. Inside was a Dimond ring which was supposed to be your engagement ring.  Unfortunately, you passed before Sherlock could propose. Salty tears fell and a ball of rage grew in Sherlock.

I remember the day you told me you were leaving
I remember the make-up running down your face
And the dreams you left behind you didn’t need them
Like every single wish, we ever made
I wish that I could wake up with amnesia
And forget about the stupid little things
Like the way it felt to fall asleep next to you
And the memories I never can escape
'Cause I’m not fine at all

No, I’m really not fine at all
Tell me this is just a dream
'Cause I’m really not fine at all

Sherlock threw the violin into the fireplace.  The sound of fire crackling at the new fuel filled the air.  No matter how hard he tried Sherlock wouldn’t be able to forget you. One thing he knew for sure, Moriarty was going to pay and Sherlock was going to make sure it would happen. Personally.

Series Two is EMP: Mycroft Meeting with Moriarty and John

If EMP starts on the roof or after Sherlock jumps: How does Sherlock know Mycroft met with Moriarty in THoB?

Sherlock wasn’t present for the meeting between Mycroft and Moriarty at the end of THoB.

While Sherlock is giving his explanation of the fall to Anderson in TEH, we get these two parallels below:

The one on the left is a flashback during Mycroft’s conversation with John in TRF. And the one on the right is a flashback during Sherlock’s explanation to Anderson in TEH.

If EMP began on the roof or after, how does Sherlock know Mycroft met with Moriarty in a cell? How does he have the same flashback? No one ever told Sherlock. John never told him.

Sherlock wasn’t present for the conversation between Mycroft and John in TRF.

In TRF, John told Mycroft that he gave Moriarty the perfect ammunition to destroy Sherlock. In TST, the word ammunition is used again by Mary. Mary also wasn’t present for the conversation in TRF. We learn that ammunition is really amo or love. And later we are told Norbury used the code word love.

Norbury is love. So love replaces ammunition in the scene from TRF. Norbury is John and Mycroft. But is Norbury also Sherlock?  

Yes. Wasn’t it actually Sherlock who gave Moriarty the ammunition? Didn’t Sherlock give Moriarty love to use against him?

Yes. “I’ll burn the heart out of you.”

Sherlock’s code name is love. amo, amas, amat. “I love, you love, he loves.” Mycroft, Sherlock, John.

Mary’s death scene is a recreation of TRF. Sherlock is a witness to his own destruction.

Norbury, or love, is sent to prison. Sherlock keeps his emotions inside his own prison, Sherrinford.

“Emotional context destroys you every time.” - Eurus/Sherlock

Mycroft is suppose to be a mirror for Sherlock’s cold mask. But because the mask is just a facade, Sherlock subconsciously uses his brother to remind himself of his love for John.

Mycroft is a stand-in for Sherlock during the meeting with Moriarty in THoB, and during the conversation with John in TRF.

How else do we know this?

Mycroft’s Meeting with Moriarty in THoB is Recreated in TFP

Mycroft meeting with Moriarty in THoB & shown in flashbacks in TRF = Mycroft meeting with Moriarty at Sherrinford shown in a flashback.

Eurus meets with Moriarty. She takes the place of Mycroft meeting Moriarty in a cell in THoB.

“Mycroft fed Moriarty information about me” = Eurus’ five minute “Redbeard” conversation with Moriarty.  

And if Eurus is Sherlock…

Then it’s actually Sherlock who takes Mycroft’s place in THoB. And it’s Sherlock who takes over Mycroft’s place in the conversation with John in TRF.

Sherlock is actually saying in TEH: “I fed Moriarty information about me.”

And he did. However, Sherlock didn’t feed Moriarty information about his reputation, he fed him information about his heart.

“New information. She’s out.” John in TFP. Eurus out of her cell is love. Sherlock in love. Moriarty let out of his cell in THoB is love unleashed. Sherlock believing love is dangerous, a weakness, ammunition is what leads him to the rooftop of Bart’s Hospital.

The five minute conversation between Eurus and Moriarty is the meeting at the pool in TGG. Is this where EMP begins? Sherlock, not Mycroft, gave Moriarty ammunition. Sherlock gave him amo. He gave Moriarty love to use against him. He gave him Redbeard. He gave him John.

Eurus puts Mycroft in her old cell = Sherlock puts himself/his love for John in his old cell. Eurus only had one cell in TFP. The old cell they are referring to is the other metaphorical one from ThoB/TRF where Sherlock fed his heart to Moriarty.

“Do you have cannibals here?”

“How many?”


Who are the other three cannibals Sherlock fed his heart to? Irene, CAM, and Janine? “Yes, you are.” “Look how you care about John Watson,” “I know what kind of man you are.”

Side note: In HLV, Sherlock tells Mary that he won the empty houses of Leinster Gardens from the “Clarence House Cannibal” in a card game. Mary is a mirror for Sherlock’s cold facade, the sociopath he tries so hard to be. The empty houses are his soul/emotions. The Cannibal is Moriarty. Sherlock didn’t win in the game against Moriarty, he lost. “Nearly cost me my kidneys” = Cost Sherlock his heart. The lie hidden in plain sight.

“Mycroft has been lying to you.” No. Sherlock has been lying to himself.

“You were upset, so you told yourself a better story.”

Why is Anderson wearing John’s sweater from ASIP in TEH?

Sherlock’s explanation to Anderson in TEH is a recreation of Mycroft and John’s conversation in TRF. Anderson is suppose to be John. And Sherlock is suppose to be Mycroft. This is suppose to be a love confession caught on camera. “In the act!”

The sweater is amo…love. Both Anderson and little Eurus wear the sweater because Sherlock keeps trying to forget love. Love is manipulative (Eurus) and can rule your head, make you crazy (Anderson).  

“But he can’t stop confessing.”

This is also why Anderson’s scene interrupts the confession in the train car carrying the bomb/heart. The bomb is a callback to John wearing the bomb in TGG.  It’s all about love, but because Sherlock believes love is abhorrent and dangerous, he interrupts his own narrative to deflect his emotions. Ironically, he envisions Anderson in John’s sweater because he can’t escape the truth (love) no matter how hard he tries.

“Once you’ve opened your heart, you can’t close it again.”

@gosherlocked @sarahthecoat @ebaeschnbliah @not-a-bit-good @sagestreet @monikakrasnorada @tjlcisthenewsexy @kateis-cakeis @raggedyblue @221bloodnun

The signs as Andrew Scott characters

Aries: Tommy McGann (Dead Bodies)


Taurus: Jim Moriarty (Sherlock)


Gemini: Paul McCartney (Lennon Naked)


Cancer: Barry (Little White Lie)


Leo: Mark Nicholas (The Town)


Virgo: Jones (My Life in Flim)


Libra: Christian (Dates)


Scorpio: Adam Le Ray (The Hour)


Sagittarius: Davin (The Stag)


Capricorn: Laevsky (Anton Chekhov’s The Duel)


Aquarius: Alex (Sea Wall)


Pisces: Gethin (Pride)

What I have taken away from today's Answertime with Mofftiss

- I have new insight into Moffat and hate him less
- I may even love him a little
- Some fans are still idiots and assholes
- They’re still SassKings
- I will never stop loving Mark Gatiss
- In fact, I’m starting a religion and church in his name.
- They are telling the story they want to tell so everyone sit down, shut up, and enjoy it.
- They still lie about Moriarty being dead even after the trailer shows otherwise.
- They love Mary
- Of course the baby is fucking real you jackasses
- Johnlock is never gonna happen because they don’t want it to
- Sherlock is not a sociopath and is definitely not aromantic. Maybe grey-aro or demi-ro.
- They don’t want to stop after this season and desperately hope they can continue despite scheduling conflicts because Marvel.

“You couldn’t stop me if you tried … ‘cause the Devil is a lie.” 

~ Unaired Mycroft and Moriarty footage shot at St. Bart’s during Sherlock S3 (setlock x/y/z) x The Devil is a Lie (Rick Ross / Black Mass trailer version)

I wonder if these scenes are really never going to see the light of day. It seems terribly unlikely. Not only were there multiple takes, but both Sue Vertue and Steven Moffat were present at the shoot. 

Let’s hope the scenes are not the moment when Mycroft sows the seeds of his downfall. 

@waitingforgarridebs @isitandwonder @jenna221b @inevitably-johnlocked

More fanvids here


For @adler-esque so sorry it’s late, dear. I hope you enjoy it, and I wish you a wonderful Christmas!


O’ Hare International Airport was one of the busiest airports in the world, and Christmas was the busiest time of the year, with hundreds of flights coming in and out of Chicago, and people frantically hurrying to and fro trying to get from point A to point B, rushing to make their connecting flights or complaining at the terminals.

Today was no different. The chic little cafe was especially crowded, with people waiting impatiently in line for ridiculously expensive, disappointingly bland coffee and a scone. Every table was occupied by people plugged into their phones waiting for their flights.

He cleared the security check with no problem, the only odd thing in his luggage being the long black cylinder in his guitar case and there was nothing deemed dangerous about it. He donned the black leather jacket that he had picked up in Prague specifically for this disguise.

It was hardly his typical attire, and it was slightly uncomfortable. A little restrictive especially around the shoulders, and he missed the mobility his Belstaff coat afforded him. Still, the leather jacket worked remarkably well for the struggling, pseudo-rebellious travelling musician he was currently pretending to be.

He strode through the terminal, ignoring the bustle of people around him. He took a seat across the cafe, set his guitar case down on the empty seat beside him, and took out his phone. Four rows behind him, a child wailed and a harried mother shushed it, but he ignored them, instead focusing on the cafe’s clientele.

She was sitting in one of the tables, her detached, languid stance fitting in well with the casually impatient attitude of the travelers waiting for their flights around her. She had a cup of coffee at her left elbow, a mobile at her right, and laid out in front of her was an organizer with little Post-It notes sticking out of the sides.

And she was also deliberately facing away from the terminal, so that all he could see of her was her back and a sliver of her reflection in the cafe’s mirrored walls.

He pretended to be absorbed in his mobile and typed out a “?” before sending it to a number he had long-ago memorized.

The mobile resting on the table in front of her chimed. She glanced at it off-handedly, then turned very slightly so that he could see her profile and the mischievous smile on her face. Without a word, she turned the mobile off and slipped it carelessly into her purse.

It was only to preserve his cover as brooding musician that he stopped the answering grin from spreading across his face.

She wanted to play.


He hid a small smile and leaned back, studying her as carefully as he could without being obvious. She was in disguise too, of course.

Tapping into the airport’s video feed would be only too easy for Mycroft if he got even the smallest hint that she was there. Not that he would, after all this was the Woman. But why make it easier for the elder Holmes?

Not that she was planning on making it easy for the younger Holmes either.

There was a reason why she had chosen to sit with her back to him. She wanted him at a disadvantage. He couldn’t see her directly, but she could see his reflection perfectly well on the cafe’s mirrored walls.

He examined her disguise, or at least the aspects of it that she had decided to reveal. She was dressed in a fashionable attire – not surprising, given her meticulous sense of style. But the ensemble she had on wasn’t the kind she usually favored.

Pastel colors, soft, flowing fabric, beads at her wrist : a stark contrast to the sharp, geometric, monochromatic dresses and the decadent form-fitting silk and lace he had previously seen her in… though admittedly he had not seen much of her wardrobe, her first appearance in her “battle dress” still being the image of her at the forefront of his mind palace…

A voice announcing the boarding of a flight at the next terminal thankfully brought him out of that particular train of thought and forced him to continue his observations.

His gaze went to a small tourist guide for Milan sticking out of the top of her purse. Milan and the outfit spoke of fashion, easily deduced. The neat little organizer with the sticky notes and the expensive pen beside it spoke of a professional. Anyone looking would probably see a young professional woman working in the fashion industry, probably a writer or a fashion editor or something similar, on her way to Milan for some stylish event.

But he wasn’t fool enough to believe that she was actually on her way to Milan. Not with her shoes. Besides, with the Woman, it was always best to look beyond the surface. But there was something about Milan or Italy…

She crossed her legs under the table and idly stirred her coffee with her left hand. To anyone else it would seem like a casual, meaningless gesture, but fifteen seconds in, a pattern began to emerge from her stirring.

She would stir counter-clockwise twice, then clockwise. Three seconds later, she would stir clockwise four times. Another three seconds, she would stir counter-clockwise three times. Another three seconds, three stirs clockwise. Then finally, one counter-clockwise stir. He took note of the pattern and tried to deduce it.

It was obviously a code with two components: clock-wise and counter clockwise stirs, even Anderson could have figured that out. But what did they signify? Binary code? No…

It took him two more repetitions to figure out that it was Morse code: clockwise stirs were for dots, counter clockwise for dashes.

She must have noticed that he had caught on because she stopped stirring suddenly and he almost missed the last letter in her message. She turned the cup deliberately so that its handle was pointing to the left.

As he watched, she idly lifted the spoon from the cup and tapped it casually against the rim of her cup so that the foam dripped off it. One, two, three taps.

He leaned back in a casual slump on his chair that gave him a good view of the left side of the bench he was sitting on. It was empty. He frowned before looking past the bench.

Not three chairs or three rows then. He looked beyond the area he was sitting in, and immediately realized what she meant.

Three terminals away, he spotted it and he cocked one eyebrow at her, pulling out his phone again and attaching a pair of earphones in. He plugged the buds into his ears, but he didn’t press play – that would deprive him of one of his senses, something he was reluctant to do in this setting – but it was enough to give the illusion of him listening to some music no one else could hear.

In keeping with his musician disguise, he began tapping out a rhythm to the imaginary music he was listening to. He tapped in Morse code as well, in response to her original message. He used his two index fingers and kept his pace quick, because she liked a challenge and he wanted to use her reverse view of his reflection on the cafe walls to his advantage.

Left index finger for dots, right for dashes. One right tap. Four left taps. One left, then a right. Another right tap. Three left taps. A five second pause, then another four left taps. Two left taps. Then finally, two right taps.

“That’s him?”

He glanced at her skeptically, which earned him a small glare in the cafe mirror’s reflection.

She didn’t answer, but brought the spoon to her lips under the pretext of cleaning the stray drops of coffee and foam from it. The sight of her licking the spoon clean pulled his focus from the man three terminals away, and he found his stare riveted on the Woman’s quick tongue catching a droplet of the caramel liquid from the spoon’s neck before spreading the moisture across her blood-red lips – the only feature of her usual make-up that she had kept, because she knew it would remind him of what she could do with those clever lips and that sinful tongue.

Minx. She was distracting him as punishment for questioning her.

He tore his gaze away and fixed it determinedly on the man three terminals away. The Ghost. Well, that was certainly not what he had expected.

According to a reliable source, the Ghost was one of Jim Moriarty’s most formidable henchmen, who had helped him build his web and was second only to Moran in his position in Jim’s esteem. This Ghost had been instrumental in creating the fake character that was Rich Brook and had falsified all the documents, the references that had so effectively convinced the enterprising Kitty Riley and her hungry reading public. This Ghost had even hacked into the MI5 archives to modify the information on Moriarty to fit the Richard Brook lie.

When he had pictured this formidable figure, he had certainly not expected him to be the skinny, pallid-looking young man with stringy hair whose shirt had a picture of a woman in a metallic gold bikini across his thin chest.

Still, appearances could be deceiving. Wasn’t he the perfect example? Wasn’t the Woman?

Speaking of whom…

He released his breath slowly as she deliberately moved her hair away from her neck under the pretext of fixing her left earring. This left the back of her neck completely exposed to him, and his fingers flexed reflexively, as if they were already running themselves across the smooth expanse of skin between the base of her head and the ridge of her spine.

As he watched, her fingers drifted from her neck to the spot behind her left ear, the little dip there that he was always determined to linger on because it was where her perfume was most concentrated, and whenever he inhaled deeply, her own breathing would hitch and her pulse would quicken beneath the thin translucent membrane of her skin…

He caught her wicked smile in the mirror and he knew she had accurately guessed his train of thought.

Suddenly he was on his feet, impatient to get this Ghost business over with. He quickly collected his bag and guitar case and strode with renewed determination through the terminal. Across the hall, she stood up from her seat on the cafe table and picked up her purse.

He was headed away from the terminal, back to the ticket booth to purchase a flight to Milan. She walked past him, presumably on her way to her own flight. As she did, her hand brushed his momentarily and for 0.03 seconds, her index finger hooked against his, her nail trailing along the inside of his finger as she let go, and he felt something small and thin slide into his pocket.

He didn’t look at her, nor did she look at him. No more than half a second of contact – and that would have to be enough.

At least, he thought as he looked down at the ticket to the opera at the Teatr Wielki that she had slipped into his pocket, until he got to his stop-over at Warsaw.


By SorrowsFlower