"You have nice manners for a thief and a liar," said the dragon.

Jim grinned unrepentantly, "Don't I just."

"But that will not save you," Smaug added, tail twitching slowly from side to side behind him, "Indeed, I do not know if anything can save you. You broke The Rules."

There was a collective murmur of agreement from the others at the high bench.

"Completely illegal, in both the letter and the spirit of the Law," muttered Justice, currently in the guise of one Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade.

"Maybe he just didn't know?" Mercy, in the form of Frodo Baggins, asked uncertainly, looking much as if even he didn't believe himself.

"You can't not know The Rules," Vengeance growled, twisting Patrick Jane's features into an ugly scowl.

Jim contrived to look as innocent as possible, "I had to finish the story."

"Not like this, you didn't," came the quiet reply from further down the bench, where Hwin stood, "Death solves nothing. As I once told my Tarkheena, do not by any means destroy yourself, for if you live you may yet have good fortune but all the dead are dead alike."

The dark brows lowered over mad black eyes, "Oh, come on! You can't say death doesn't make a good ending!"

"In some ways, yes," came the lecturing tones of Henry "Indiana" Jones, Jr. "There are many historical and literary cases of this: Inspector Javert, the White Witch Jadis, and the Messiah Jesus Christ for example, though of course there is much debate over that last one."

"But there is a problem," said Smaug, "you see, it wasn't the end. The story goes on regardless, O lawbreaker. Your nemesis is still alive."

Jim blinked.

"You didn't really think that both of you could die?" was the amused and slightly mocking question from Indy.

"Idiot," came the murmured comment from Greg, "You can't kill Sherlock Holmes."

"And likewise," Smaug added, more than a hint of a snarl in his voice, "you cannot kill James Moriarty."

"I can," Jim said brightly, "I did."

"You upset the balance," Obi-Wan Kenobi frowned.

"Removed the counterweight," said Havelock Vetinari.

"Tipped the very scales of the universe," Albus Dumbledore murmured mournfully.

"So what?" came the unconcerned reply, "I aim to misbehave, isn't that right, Captain Reynolds?"

Mal stared at the diminutive Irishman, obviously unimpressed.

There were a few minutes of noisy discussion, and then Smaug banged a clawed fist on the table and called for silence.

"The matter stands thus," he stated, "Jim Moriarty, psychopath, criminal, and foil to Sherlock Holmes, stands accused of breaking the balance of literary hero/villain interaction and thereby breaking The Rules."

Murmurs of agreement.

Smaug continued, "What is to be his punishment?"

"Death!" came the immediate response from Patrick Jane, Vengeance incarnate.

"He's already dead, you idiot," Indy muttered.

"Torture," was the suggestion from Mal, accompanied by a mirthless smile, "I picked up a few tips from Niska if you need any help."

"Oh dear, that sounds horribly violent," Hwin said, ears laid flat in distress.

"Prison," Greg proposed.

There was a snort of disbelief from Obi-Wan, a slight shake of the head from Dumbledore, and a blank look from Vetinari that contained the merest trace of an invisible eye roll.

"Let him… live?" Frodo murmured hesitantly.

Silence.

"It would restore the balance, wouldn't it?"

Slow nods of agreement.

"And it's better than letting him get away with it."

Firmer nods, and a muttered, "The kid's not that slow after all."

Smaug dipped his head, "Very well. We are decided, then? To send James Moriarty back to the Universe from whence he came?"

Jim stared, open mouthed, "But - you can't - "

"We can and we will," Vetinari said calmly, turning back to the paperwork that had appeared on the desk before him, "Do not let us detain you."

Jim stood for a minute, aware that he had just been dismissed - dismissed! Him! - and then turned and made for the door. He'd barely turned the corner when a blue-ringed portal opened beneath his feet, hurtled him through the suddenly millimetre-thin floor, turned him one hundred and eighty degrees so that he was upside down, and deposited him feet-first onto the deserted Lambeth Bridge.

Unprepared for the sudden change in velocity, he found himself lying on the ground.

Jim glared, sneered, and picked himself up.

There was work to be done.