I'll be in my room painting. or napping.

nessiepresso:

• A/N: I do not know what they’re going on about. Beats me. I wouldn’t want to get between the King of Hell and the only Consulting Criminal in the world, no sir.

Moriarty was not quite sure why, but Crowley, self titled King of Hell, had the most obnoxious way of getting to him, of …of annoying him. When the Bee Gees song started playing - cutting off his play time with the younger Holmes brother - and he saw the demon’s name as the caller ID, Moriarty sighed deeply and reluctantly picked up the call.

“What?”, Irritated tone clear.

“Ah! Mr. Moriarty. Lovely to hear your voice…” Crowley greeted. Picking up the bad mood of the other part, he added, smiling, “…I’ve got what you asked for.”

“Say that again, say that again, and know that, if you’re lying to me, I will find you and skin you.” the reply came.

As much as Crowley found it enternaining to play with J. Moriarty, the sentiment wasn’t mutual. And so, since he had big plans for the consulting criminal, Crowley could not allow himself to loose his plaything, well, playmate, the man stopped himself of making any comments (highly amusing, by the way) on how pointless it would be, ‘to skin a demon, ah!’.

“Do you not trust me to get you a simple book?” the King of Hell followed.

“…If you’re lying to me, I’ll make you into shoes.”

Crowley laughed internally, “Would I ever lie to you?”, malice on his voice.

Moriarty hung up. Crowley admired the one remaining copy of the acient book, resting on his desk, and said, to himself,

“Oh, Mr. Moriarty, we’ll have so much fun. You and me.”