Greg froze, the hairs at the back of his neck standing up at the sight of James Moriarty in his office. In his bloody goddamn office in New Scotland Yard, where Sergeants and Constables should have seen him. But no one was around at this time of hour. It was just him and the Devil as the clock was about to reach midnight.
“Wh–” He sputtered lamely, heart hammering in his chest. “What are you doing here?”
“Surprised to see me? Well I don’t blame you~” He takes another sip of tea, clearly enjoying the fear radiating from the man. He would’ve feel sorry if he had a heart, which well subjectively does not exist.
“Visiting you, you we’re ‘friends’ and all, well a friend from a mutual acquaintance. But I must say you look terrible, go on take a seat you look like you’ll pass out from standing a minute longer.”
