Achieving Perfection in this Imperfect World.

Just a few words here, considering my name or my occupation isn't important. You can call me Jim if you'd like, although really, why bother with names at all? (Currently no longer in use as of November 25, 2012.)

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As evident with current events, some time had passed since the meeting between Moriarty and Sherlock. Too long, in fact. Granted, if Moriarty could've had his way, he probably never would've let the meeting end.

At least not how it did.

Mulling over the plans for the rest of the evening, he tuned out the conversation carrying across the small room he was currently in. Reaching into the breast pocket of his tailored jacket he pulled out his mobile and sent a quick text to the detective.

'Tell me darling, have you gotten any closer to rescuing your stray dog? - M'

Moriarty knew he needed another way to get to Sherlock. He made it easy on purpose, especially for Jen. After all, he didn't want the poor girl to strain her mental capacity on finding a way out immediately. No, he made it challenging just enough to keep her guessing until her flatmate could save the day. If he could save her. That would be a better question for the task at hand.

Having long since left the restaurant where the meeting had taken place, he found himself on a quaint little street. Baker Street, to be precise. A few moments later, another text was sent after the first.

'Mrs. Hudson is such a kind woman. I wonder just how long it takes her to realize that I'm your biggest fan. She's telling me such interesting stories, Sherlock! And how kind of her to let me in and offer a nice cuppa.... Did you really think I would hurt your precious pet? Not at all, my dear. Though I know many ways to strike your 'dead' heart. - M'

He set the mobile down on the table in front of him, taking the cup and saucer that had been left only moments before with a devilish grin.

Now his game could begin.

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I just remembered this afternoon that my URL has 'Shades in Grey' in it.

I was almost disgusted by that thought alone, then I remembered I've had this account for over a year.

I was Shades of Grey before it ever became cool.

[more-moriarty]

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Miss me, ladies and gentlemen?

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"Oh, that's fine. You know, why don't we have fun with this? I'll call off my men and let you search for Miss Watson? If you can pull it off, I'll be impressed. Impressed enough to give you another chance."

With a grin, he continued. "Sure, I haven't gotten what I want, yet. Have fun, Sherlock~! I can't imagine what the poor thing is going through. After all the war did to her, I doubt she's so keen on reliving those days." He walked away until he reached the hallway before turning back around. "By the way, my apologies. I'm better at keeping my temper in check. I suppose when we meet again, it'll be on nicer terms. That's the least I owe you."

"Oh! And before I forget, you've got until midnight. Once the clock strikes twelve... well. Cinderella may've gotten home from the ball, however Watson won't be so lucky."

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"Oh, it burns you, doesn't it?" Moriarty spared a glance to his watch, noting the time. "You should leave. If you're going to act like a child... I think I'll keep your plaything for a bit longer. Miss Watson won't be going anywhere yet. When you've come to my senses, I'm sure you have my number."

"And you're right. I could never bring myself to kill you. You are far too brilliant for that. And I enjoy controlling you just a bit too much for something as simple as this. You keep missing the point that's right in front of you. I want you to kneel before me and beg for mercy. This will end with your demise, my dear Detective. I'm not going to make idle threats."

Without a moment's notice, a red dot beamed through the window, staying right over Sherlock's heart. "I don't think you have a choice, now do you? So kneel."

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As soon as the shot rang out, he knew for certain a nerve was struck, and how glorious it was. To see the pure hatred behind those icy blue eyes, the anger that lurked just beneath his surface...

This is truly what he craved, what kept him going. To see a flicker of himself in the eyes of another, he let out a bark of laughter, a light in his eyes that would almost seem normal if it weren't for what had transpired thus far that evening.

When he hit the bottom of the chair, he smirked. "My dear, I knew you'd see through it in a heartbeat, but tell me.... you thought for a second it was her. Look at yourself, you just wanted to kill me. Oh, darling, let that side out more often." He clapped his hands together, taking a brief moment to sip his cup of tea that had long since gone cold. "Do you want to know what you just felt? It was a brilliant shade of rage, because that's what people do! Look at you, even more socially awkward than I am. And trust me, that wasn't a compliment. Now let's see if you can keep up..."

He got to his feet of his own accord and pulled out a phone. "Look at this. Your sweet pet, safe and sound in my kennel." A flicker of an image on the screen, Miss Watson being held up to the wall by chains. "See this? One of my workers just sent it while you were being blinded by rage. Sherlock, why don't you finally come to your senses? I enjoy playing games, we all have a part to play. And so what if her part comes to an end a bit sooner than planned?" Setting the phone back in his pocket, he walked up to Sherlock, not breaking his gaze. "One last thing. If you ever touch me like that again and think you'll get away with it. This was an expensive suit, and just because you're Sherlock-bloody-Holmes doesn't mean I won't make you work with one less hand if you do it again." There was no humor this time, none of his cheerfulness from moments before.

"So why don't we talk about this like adults, unless you'd rather I stoop down to your level?" He gently reached out and pulled Sherlock closer. "Do. Not. Threaten. Me."

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shadesingreyshadowsofblack: “Where no one can touch me? Well that much is true, although I wouldn’t mind if you did. Do you really think I’ve always been up this high? Of course not. We all had to start out somewhere. We don’t get to this point in our lives without a little hard work…” He… Moriarty watched with careful eyes, wary of what this man could be capable of. However he wasn’t expecting just how defensive he was over Watson. With a slight frown, he gladly met Sherlock’s gaze. “When are you ever going to respect fashion? Honestly, as if this is just a plain shirt. Hmph.” With a dainty hand, he plucked a phone from his suit jacket and dialed a number in his contacts. “Ah, yes. How is Miss Watson? Doing well, I hope…. Right. Even if something were to harm me, kill her on the spot. Oh, right. Get that silver fox, too. Can’t have Scotland Yard screwing up my lovely plans.” He pressed ‘end’ and smirked. “Now while I’m sure you’d be more than happy to beat me to a bloody pulp, they have my orders regardless. So put me down and let’s chat. I think you’ll be glad to reconsider. Actually…..” Without missing a beat, he redialed the number, leaving it on speaker phone. “Go on and shoot her. I need him to know the price of bothering me.” On the other side, a gunshot could be clearly heard… In a seperate room, Jen was perfectly safe… for now.

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"Where no one can touch me? Well that much is true, although I wouldn't mind if you did. Do you really think I've always been up this high? Of course not. We all had to start out somewhere. We don't get to this point in our lives without a little hard work..."

He gladly watched Mr. Holmes, watching the gears turn and click behind that steady mask that he maintained. "What more could I say? This will be the end of you both and I'll be damned if we don't have fun doing it."

With a flick of the wrist, he waved him off. "Come now, your precious Watson isn't going to last forever. The war took a toll on her. You know that. She's as broken as you. But that's just it.... you're not broken. As everyone claims. Oh look at you, seeing everything for what it is, the smallest details that we never could. I envy that, Sherlock, I really do. How painful it must be for you, you can't turn it off. How many 'friends' have you driven away because you obviously have a problem?"

And now they were getting somewhere. This would be better than he thought. "What can I offer you? The respect you deserve. The world owes you, Holmes. I can help you achieve that. No one would dare call you a freak again. And with me, you could have it all. With my resources, my funding behind your... 'experiments'.... anything you could ever need would be at your fingertips. I know you won't come willingly, but I'm quite talented at things like this. You'll see it my way soon enough. I just hoped it wouldn't come to Watson's death for you to see that."

"By the way, she's not going to be saved by you. You're not making it out of here alive if you intend to go after her. My men will gun you down before you can even gather what's wrong. Hell, I'll personally pull the trigger. And would you really waste that mind of yours for that pet?"

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"Dear me, Holmes. Dear me. What have we here?" He laughed, never once taking his gaze away from the man who sat across from him.

"She's trapped. Enduring various tests that I've decided to put her through. I wonder how she'll appreciate hearing multiple gunshots, the sounds of war.... All while locked in a dark secluded room. Sounds quite peachy, don't you think?" With a raise of an eyebrow, he continued.

"Do you honestly want to threaten me? You know you'd never make it out of here alive. I've done what I've wanted thus far and you have no right to tell me otherwise. If I want to bring her to her knees, so be it. I won't harm her. I'll take everything she is away. I'll strip her down until nothing remains of her soul. She'll be a mindless idiot when I'm through. But that's what you'd prefer, isn't it?"

"You would be much happier without her. Working alone. You thrive off of it, or do you prefer an audience? Oh dear, look at you. The greatest mind the world might know at the moment and here you are. Caring for a woman that doesn't deserve you. You could work with me, we'd have it all. And you're wasting your time running around with this pet of yours that deserves none of your affection."

With a laugh, he paused long enough to take a sip of tea, setting the delicate cup back down onto the saucer.

"And who's next, hm? What about Miss Hooper? Always troublesome, flirting with you and trying to get something that's forever out of her reach. Tell me, what if I went after her next? Would you care?"

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Moriarty practically grinned like a cheshire cat, turning into a slight smirk that just wouldn't leave. When the lovely lady had brought them their tea, he sighed. Why did all the nice ones have to tremble so? He was just using her for his own gain, it's not as though he'd kill her. Yet. Taking his seat as a king might his throne, he continued. "You ask me why you're here? You're quite right in that deduction. I did call you here for more than just evening tea. My dear, you've fallen for the oldest trick in the book. And even I thought you were better than that." He folded his hands, his eyes lit up in a way that spoke more than what he'd let on thus far. Pausing long enough to take a sip of tea, he then continued. "I knew better than to ask you for your companion to not follow. Now while you may drag me to hell, I'll put your pet through it first. As we speak, my men have already taken her hostage. And what will follow? Well, why don't we save that for dessert? Just know this. That bitch is going to get what she deserves." He said the word with such disdain, as though he would never foul the air with such language. He really couldn't care less about Jen, his only goal was wonderful Consulting Detective in front of him, and he knew the feeling was mutual. Surely any moment now, the poor Watson would take up arms and come to save her precious Sherlock, only to meet resistance with Moriarty's men. Only this time, he was in for more than a simple kill.

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A taste of things to come.

Tick tock goes the clock, even for you, Doctor. Tick tock goes the clock, until Sherlock meets her Captor. Tick tock goes the clock, and how time does fly. Tick tock goes the clock... Until someone must die.

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Ah, a month away and the mice will play.

Let me reclaim what's mine.

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He had been counting the minutes, with nothing else better to do it seemed, until there he stood. The man he had so eagerly been waiting for. In the middle of the room, there he sat like a king. For a split-second, he wondered how it would be if he wore a cape and crown, but leaving such silly ideas to the side, he stood, keeping the man clearly within his sights. "Ah, Mr. Holmes. How quaint for you to show up. And for once you listened. Without your... dog, we're allowed to speak freely. Wouldn't want the dear getting all caught up in this, now would we? Poor thing would worry about you. Although she already is, isn't she?" He grinned, dark eyes revealing nothing more than shadowed pits into oblivion. "Come. Join me. Although it's not as you have much of a choice, is it?" He glanced down to his wrists, adjusting his jacket as if they were speaking calmly of the weather. Being nice enough to move from the table, walking halfway until he could reach Sherlock, he paused long enough to flick his wrist in the direction of the attendee that had shown Sherlock into the room. "Over here. Take his coat. I'd hate for the good consulting detective to be uncomfortable." "Shall we finally speak of matters at hand? I'm quite interested in seeing just what makes you tick. It drives me up a wall, you see. Why else would I go to all this effort just to make you come out and play? And trust me," He leans in, whispering softly. "This isn't as far as I'd go." Pulling back as quickly as he leaned in, he spared a glance to the stage that remained as silent as the rest of the building. "I would've had them play for us, I'm sure they would've, but I found their 'music' to be quite.... distracting."

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"Drag me to hell, darling. They know me quite well." With a smile, he gave a short wave, turning back to face his desk. So many pieces were in play, more than he had anticipated at first.

This would be interesting.

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Once his work had been done at the university, he couldn't help but find himself planning further ahead. Just what could he do to bring Sherlock to his knees? Surely there was a weakness somewhere. And just because some people said he had no feelings, unless it was about solving a case, he knew they were wrong.

As he put on a suit jacket, he glanced to his watch. A quarter until seven o'clock. Reaching for his phone, he texted one of the few numbers on his contacts list with an actual name.

Sherlock Holmes.

'After our.... 'meeting' earlier, I was wondering if perhaps we could have another chat? Meet me at the following address no later than 8. There will be a reservation under your name, of course. Leave your loyal dog behind. These are matters for adults. Besides, no pets allowed..'

With the text reading as follows, he sent it off, wondering if Sherlock would indeed come out to play after all...

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"Oh, by all means, Sherlock, Miss Watson, do go on and reveal all. I'd be more than willing to sit and listen. My class could be canceled last minute. Goodness knows I've done it before. Not often, of course...." Moriarty just smirks, leaning up against his desk.

Grinning with a wicked gleam in his eye, he walks away from his desk and right up to Sherlock. "My dear, you can walk away the victor, but trust me. We all fall in the end. So go on, threaten me as you will. It's not going to be so easy for me to slip up. I'm sure you've nothing better to do, other than bother me. But trust me, this isn't phasing me in the least. It's entertaining." Looking up at the man before him, he chuckles softly. "I'm not threatened by you, Holmes. Nor your little.... pet."

"Just try to do something. I dare you, Sherlock. Do it..." He leaned in dangerously close, not enough to touch him, because he wouldn't be caught dead making the first real move. No, these games were meant to be played at a steady pace, seen by others or kept to the shadows. It would only be a matter of time before someone slipped up.....

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"Is it now? Just because you've found me outside of our normal... 'setting', it doesn't mean you've won. And let's face it, Sherlock. Even though I may not lay a finger on you in this place, doesn't subtract from the plain fact that there are people who could. If I were to give the signal..."

Now, he tried to keep his face as calm as he could. Showing any sort of emotion to Sherlock could either keep it in his favor or truly put the ball in the other man's court. Either way, he wasn't going to let him get away with it.

Glancing up when the taller man moved closer, he sighed ever so softly. Never once breaking eye-contact if he could manage it, he realized what Sherlock was trying to do. Be intimidating.... well this criminal wouldn't crack so easily under pressure. He hadn't gotten to where he was today by letting people like Sherlock take him down. Of course, how often did he meet people like Sherlock?

"You won't call them in because Sherlock, dear, you enjoy the chase. The hunt. You practically live for it. Would you really want to take me down this easily? At least make it fun first, won't you?"

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"And you do realize the only reason you found me was simple? Correct me if I'm wrong, but if I didn't want to be found, I wouldn't have been.... At least not by you." Moriarty moves from behind his desk, folding his arms across his chest, keeping his gaze on Sherlock.

He wasn't concerned about Jen at all, in fact he wasn't as... intrigued by her as he was captivated by Sherlock.

"Darling, whatever for? I've got the world on strings and you come marching in to tell me that you're disappointed? Honestly, I expected more from you. Although perhaps I shouldn't, given the circumstances..." He raised an eyebrow, pausing for only a moment before he continued.

"Tell me Sherlock, what did you really come here for? Because I doubt it's just to chat it up with me. Though I can't say that I'll complain, listening to that voice of yours... My dear, you're not as smart as you seem if you're willing to come to me."