#fallingnothinglikeflying

"Do you have an appointment or are you here to see someone"

Jim looks longingly at the 00:00:00 on his wrist that signified that he had already met his soulmate. Ugh, he hated that term. Soulmate, the person you’re destined to be with.  There had been some study about how soulmates fell in love with each other immediately due to the hormonal composure. A chemical was released in the brain when you saw your soulmate that made it so no one else could compare.  That certainly was true for Jim and his soulmate. He really needed another term for that. Bond mate. Bond mate was much better. Jim liked to think that he didn’t have a soul, he’d grown up hearing he didn’t have one as it was.

He thinks it was mostly because he didn’t feel any guilt for anything he did. He hadn’t felt guilt for any of the birds or squirrels he had killed and fed to the dogs at the home. He hadn’t felt any guilt as all of the kids ran away from him crying when he would cut them or shoot them with a BB gun. He hadn’t even felt guilt when one of the toddlers – a three year old male named Tommy or Todd or Timmy, he didn’t remember – lost their eye because of him. Poor sap. It wasn’t any different when he killed his father, or his aunt. It certainly wasn’t any different now, as he watches as Dr. Watson, a close friend to his bond mate step out into the pool area and speak every word that Jim was telling him to say. He was such a good boy. Jim could understand why his bond mate liked him.

"Sherlock Holmes," Moriarty says, sounding half pleased and half amused, padding from where he had been standing. He had been waiting for an entirely different man to show up, but that could be rescheduled. Sherlock Holmes by himself on the streets at night was something that was definitely something. "What a coincidence. Both of us faked it and here we are again."