Mycroft had been expecting this sort of thing for quite some time. In fact, he was only surprised that it hadn't been sooner.
There was no point in resisting, so, hands clasped on his desk, 'The British Government' waited.
At least he didn't have to wait long. It was barely another minute before the familiar man stepped into his office, his face completely blank and unreadable.
He was certainly recognizable, there was no doubt about that in Mycroft's mind, but he had changed in the 20-something years since he'd last seen him. His face had lost its boyishness, he had a small stubble- possibly planning to grow a beard, he'd changed his hairstyle, and he'd finally managed to clear up that pesky acne.
"Hello, Jim," Mycroft greeted in a flat voice, putting on his false pleasantries.
"Long time no see," Moriarty chimed in response.
His voice was still unusually high-pitched, Mycroft mused for a moment.
"Social visit, then? You're entrance was hardly stealthy, and you haven't brought any of your minions with you," Mycroft noted.
"You're clearly not against it," Moriarty returned, "You knew I was coming, but you haven't sent any of your own cronies to stop me."
The two men only observed each other for several silent, stiff minutes.
"What do you want, Jim?" Mycroft finally broke the silence.
Moriarty gave an innocent shrug, "I just wanted to see my old friend again-"
"Hardly," the older man scoffed
"-and perhaps see those Bruce-Partington Plans I've heard so much about."
Mycroft let out what vaguely resembled a laugh, "I suppose you expect me to just hand them over to you with a smile?"
"Would it help if I said 'please?'" he smiled sarcastically.
Mycroft only raised his eyebrows, thoroughly un-amused.
Moriarty dropped his smile and gave a huff, "Your sense of humor has taken a definite nose-dive, Mycroft."
Something dark flashed in Mycroft's eyes at that. Frowning, he stood up from his chair so he was eye-level with the master criminal.
"Get out," he snarled.
"Well that's a bit of an over-reaction, isn't it?" Moriarty said indignantly. Nonetheless, he twirled on his heel and headed for the door. He stopped with his hand on the doorknob, and addressed Mycroft again, "I will get those plans, I was just offering you an easier alternative- for old-times sake. Farewell, Mycroft- oh, and I expect to see Sherlock very soon," he gave his I'm-up-to-something smile.
"Leave him out of this!" Mycroft shouted, but Moriarty just whistled merrily, as though he hadn't heard him.
Seconds later, Mycroft's phone chimed with an incoming text from his assistant. He didn't need to read it to know what it concerned- the Bruce-Partington Plans were missing…
…and he had a tooth-pull scheduled later.
Mycroft covered his face with his hands. Knowing Jim Moriarty, there was a plan underway. A sinister plan.
Well, first things first- he had to get those plans back, and he knew who could do it for him. Mycroft hesitated for a moment before dialing Sherlock's number.