Alright, to be entirely honest I don't have much knowledge on the entirety of Sherlock Holmes. The old fashioned one, I mean. With the legitimate Sebastian Moran and all that, so this is all just kind of going off of what I would like, along with some of the descriptions I've read (Mostly the scars on his face.) So yeah, if I make a mistake, bear with me. I'm really just having fun here.

I wanted to write this because I was fairly disappointed looking for something fun to read starring the magnificent James Moriarty, and I must say, he is sooo much fun to write. God, I love the crazies. And I guess I just wanted to kind of... get this out of my head.

This will not be immediate smut. Will there be sex? I don't know. Who knows. But I'm not making this something where they go at it, I don't think either of them would be like that, or maybe that's just my head. I have a feeling there will be a lot of games beforehand... but to be honest, nothing is planned.

That being said, I would LOVE your input. Tell me what YOU want to see, what kind of stuff you'd like to have happen. Give me ideas, and I'll do my best to make them happen, because for now this is all I got. But I REALLY want to write more Jim. He's so lovely.

Oh yeah. Warnings: Ah, shitty writing. Angst. Lack of fluff. Abuse. Crazy people. Dead thing. Things dying. Inappropriate shit. . . Cursing? Yep yep.

And with that overly long AN, enjoy~!

"Boring… Boring!" Jim stared at the illuminated screen of his laptop, furiously tapping away at the keyboard as though it would help anything. "Where is he anyways? This is a horrible first impression. Daddy is not pleased in the least~!" He practically sang in an irritated tone, feeling the tension of his bodyguards increase as the tone of his voice heightened. It was amusing to see how much control he had over these pathetic monkeys when just changing a few octaves in his voice. He had to wonder if they had planned ending up like this, dead men walking, just waiting for James Moriarty to get bored of them. They were all dead men in his eyes, graced by his presence for a brief period of time before inevitably killed when he no longer had use for them. They all ran out of uses eventually.

"Sir," One of his men spoke shyly, clearing his throat as he entered the room. Jim's brows raised in acknowledgement, stealing a glance in the direction of the man before looking down to his laptop. "Mr. Moran his here, shall I bring him in?" What kind of bloody question was that?
"What do you think?" Moriarty narrowed his eyes, his tone icy. Watching the face of the man at the door heat up in embarrassment, he cleared his throat once more and quickly turned to retrieve their guest. "Idiots…" He hummed to himself, "Honesltly… 'Shall I bring him in?'" He mocked in a low voice, rolling his eyes at the words before returning his attentions to the profile on his computer. Sebastian Moran. They had had the pleasure of meeting in the past; the man had even worked a few jobs for him – nothing serious, probably just a quick buck in Moran's eyes… But with the start of a new game with his lovely pal Sherlock and his most loyal dog, Watson, well… Someone like Moran on his side seemed to be the way to go.

Don't get him wrong, it wasn't as though he felt threatened. No, no… Sherlock wouldn't kill him, Jim was keeping him entertained! Why would Sherlock put a stop to such fun by putting an end to Jim's life? No, no… He was more concerned with those around Sherlock. Normal people; the people who didn't understand the severity of their boredom. Someone would need to keep them away – he wanted them to keep their grimy little hands to themselves.

"Sir?" God, his voice was beginning to grow annoying. Why had he hired him again? The bumbling fools sheepish behavior was giving him a headache, but regardless he shut his laptop and slipped it off on to the side table beside his recliner, arching a brow as he looked up to the door. There, next to his idiot of a goon was Moran, poorly dressed in nothing but a pair of baggy black sweats and a black wife-beater. Immediately, he grimaced.

"What are you still here for?" Moriarty's gaze darted to that of the dazed goon, who upon being acknowledged turned blood red and quickly rushed off in the other direction. He would have to remind himself to get rid of him sometime soon, it wasn't cute anymore. "Well, well, did I wake you up?" He smiled, his voice softening dramatically as he looked over his possible new employee. He could have sworn he caught Moran fighting off a yawn, as the man took a few steps forward; closing the door behind him with is foot. Ah, if professional had an image, right?
"Something like that," The sniper mumbled out, as he folded his toned, scar-littered arms over his chest and tilted his head to the side. Hazel eyes met his black ones, and he had to admit, the other's daring attitude never really got old. Something about being stood up to like this? Quite exciting. "But in my defense, it's three o'clock in the fuckin' mornin'. Not to mention I think the fucker you sent made my girl piss the bed with the way he marched in there." Was he having sex? Oh that was just delightful! God, did Jim love ruining moments. Immediately the consulting criminal let out a soft giggle as he leaned back into his chair, and crossed one leg over the other.
"Sleep is boring." Jim shrugged, managing a smirk as he drummed his fingers over the arm of his recliner, taking a moment to examine his guest. Yep, he had to guess sex, he looked lazily dressed and fresh hickeys littered his collarbone… Now he would admit to being no Sherlock Holmes, but the messy dirty blonde hair, sweat-matted and tossed about was a pretty good indicator.

"The bastard did say you had quite a bit of money to offer to me though…" He sniffed, "I'm guessing a long term position." He seemed tired just thinking about it.
"Ah, you're smarter then you look," Jim squeaked, bringing his hands together at his chest. "You guessed right my trigger-happy friend, " He shifted, patting the arm of his recliner as though gesturing for the other to join him. Of course, Moran remained where he was, tensing the slightest bit. "Of course you'll be paid generously for your troubles, so don't you worry your pretty little head off, hm?" He smiled, "It's quite a simple job, I think…" Well, compared to the tasks Sebastian must have dealt with in his life, it would probably be a mundane job with many benefits.

"And so what is it that I'll be doing for you then?" Moran asked, his jaw clenched. It was fairly clear he wasn't exactly in the mood to be here, but it really only made Jim all the more happy he was. "I hope you know I'm not going to be fetching you tea and biscuits." Jim's eyes widened, and his mouth parted to form a wide 'O' shape.
"Oh, boy. That's a letdown," He snorted sarcastically, "You'll be pleased to know it's within your area." His tone evened out, as he pursed his lips and scanned the floor for a moment. "A simple task, for you, I'm sure… You just have to keep me safe, let me play my games, ensure people don't attempt to ruin my fun." He offered him a tight smile, "Of course this means if I'm awake, you're awake, whether it be right by my side or following in the shadows, I really can't care less," He said, waving it off as he pushed himself up to stand, fixing his over coat as he slowly began to make his way over to the lovely sniper. "I'm sure you'll find the pay is fantastic… But please," He started, pinching the middle of the man's wife beater between his index finger and thumb, "If you do intend on remaining at my side whilst in front of other people, please dress nice. I do have appearances to keep up." He released the bit of fabric, offering the other's chest a good pat before stepping back.
"And if I refuse?" Oh, he always loved those idiotic little questions.
"Well, naturally you have no choice," Jim laughed, "You calmly accept this generous, generous offer…" He shrugged, "Or you attempt to leave here with your life, and while I'm very positive you're talented, I highly doubt what you have on you will be enough to save you from all that awaits out there should you refuse." Moriarty smiled warmly, as he looked to the sniper, who surprisingly looked unfazed. Oh, this would be an interesting, interesting event. Moran seemed to think for a moment, before slouching the slightest bit.

"When do I start?" And with that, the sniper had signed his soul over to the Devil himself, James Moriarty.

Soooo... Input? (: