Fleeting Impressions | J.M.

12: gum and a fire extinguisher

"No." I stand firm. "You are not going to steal the Crown Jewels of England again."

"We are going to steal the Crown Jewels of England my dear. And we won't take all of it. Just the crown," his smile is pleading and eyes alight with a promise of trouble.

How can I say no to that. I glance to the side at the case, heavily armed, rigged with alarms. The excitement flows through me but I try to suppress it.

"We will get caught."

"No, we won't," he sing songs.

"That's glass is way too thick. I'm sure they reinforced it after your successful attempt."

He shakes his head and knocks steadily on the glass and gives me a smile. "Nope, still the regular bullet proof glass."

I throw my hands up. "Well, it's not like I have a diamond on me, do I?" I sass back at him. Why does he always have to make sense?

He reaches into his pocket and digs around a little until he pulls out a tiny rock between his forefinger and thumb, showing it to me while it gleams in the light.

He had a diamond.

Of course he has a diamond.

I look to him in exasperation, "Well, well, I don't have a sledge hummer."

"Love, I've done this before. Why are you holding back?" My heart skips a beat at his term of endearment. But I take pause at his words. Why am I holding back?

I have been engrained with morals and ethics all my life to live with a good heart. James is the embodiment of everything I'm not supposed to do. The villain in my story. I've been on the good side my whole life. Why would I want to switch places now?

I was always the detectives side kick, solving crimes. I can't now decide to be the criminal.

But looking into James' eyes, pools of melted chocolate, his soft hand in mine, it's all so inviting. I can't keep coming up with excuses to hold myself back anymore.

I want to join James. I want to steal a crown and break through glass. I want to live a life of my own choosing.

"Okay, show me how to steal my crown," I relent, feeling brave while I have James with me. He squeezes my fingers in a tight grip and rocks back and forth on his feet, his whole body alight in excitement.

"My queen wants a crown and a crown she shall get," he bows in a sweeping gesture and whisks me away to the corner of the room, grabbing a fire extinguisher.

Excitement races through my veins and a smile too big for my face won't be wiped off.

He drags me back over to the glass, the Old Russian Waltz: Expectation trickles into my ear. James turns me to face him, dancing me to the music and cradling the fire extinguisher in one arm.

I laugh. And he pauses our waltz to stick his gum right in the center of the glass. He raises an eyebrow, signifying for me to do the same. I layer mine on top of his and he presses the diamond carefully into the middle, the sharp end toward the glass to puncture a hole.

We step back to admire the work. Something so simple can unravel and entire bullet proof box.

My heart picks up with the tempo, adrenaline moving through my veins as James leads us into a quick dance again, smoothly transitioning his ear pod to me so I feel the music in my bones.

He pulls back, and then spins me before letting me go, like a top, I keep going. Landing in front of the crown. I know.

I want it.

James hands me the bright red battering ram, a simple tool meant to put out a flame. It will now help me become a thief.

I step back, eyes on the small dot of pressurized carbon in the center of our chewed gum. And I swing.

The extinguisher propels forward, striking the glass with force. My shoulder jolts with the impact, but I watch in slow motion as the cracks spider out from the center and shatter it into a million pieces.

I was too transfixed on the action to notice James right behind me, he shields my eyes in a quick motion, faster than I would have thought possible. Both hands in a protective motion over my face to block me from the spray of shards raining around us.

When time finally catches up to me, I hear the sound of an alarm over the classical music.

I give James a straight face. He said we wouldn't get caught. But this alarm will definitely catch a lot of attention.

He just shrugs sheepishly. Apology excepted.

My Irish man leans forward, conscious of the glass at his feet, and carefully picks up the crown, dusting it of glass fragments before placing it on my head.

James dips me, while the blaring noise goes off in time with the pulsating of the red light, and captures my lips in a searing kiss. Bruising my soul and ingraining his taste into my mind. My heart stops beating for only a moment before it starts again.

I hold the crown on my head as he takes me lower, moaning into my mouth and molding his plush lips with my own. Letting his tongue explore me while I surrender, helpless.

He finally pulls back, allowing me to have air and I see the hunger in his eyes, along with another emotion. Pride.

He's proud of me.

And as we run from the building, skidding corners and laughing, me with a crown on my head, I realize why I chose to stay with James.

Because while I enjoy the thrill of the case, and the curiosity of an experiment, it can never compare to the feeling of running from the law. The adrenaline of knowing I've done something oh so bad.

So while it was fun with Sherlock, it is so much more exciting to be with James Moriarty.