Chapter 1

Sherlock was sitting in his armchair, thinking, when he heard the front door softly open and close. Quiet footsteps crept up the stairs. Sherlock mentally braced himself.

"Hello, Sherlock." Moriarty stood in the doorway, resplendent in his gray suit, his hair slicked back. He smiled at Sherlock, eyes dancing merrily.

"Do come in. Though I'm afraid you've just missed John."

"Oh that's quite alright. I don't think your little pet likes me very much," Moriarty replied, sauntering in and taking a seat opposite Sherlock. "He's got himself someone now, hasn't he? How are we feeling about that?"

"I'm happy for John. I quite like Mary."

"Oh come on, Sherlock. We both know you're just a little bit jealous."

Sherlock stared in stony silence. He wasn't giving an inch. Not this time.

"Why?"

"Hmm?"

"Why come back now?" Sherlock asked, leaning forward. "It's been over four years. Why now?"

"You and I have unfinished business, darling. You cheated," Moriarty said silkily, the ever present smirk on his face.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "So did you."

"Fair point!" Moriarty exclaimed, clapping his hands together excitedly. "So now that that's out of the way, we can go back to playing the game."

"The game is over-"

"The game is never over, Sherlock. We both know that. You'll always need your fix, someone to compete with you, someone to play with you."

"So what? We play cat and mouse for all eternity?"

"We're both geniuses, but we're not immortal, dear. No need to exaggerate. Although, I guess it is rather hard to kill us…"

Sherlock was getting frustrated at him not answering directly, but was determined not to let it show. "What game would you like to play, then?"

Moriarty looked around the room. "You've made some changes. Not sure I like them."

"I dismantled your network," Sherlock stated matter-of-factly. "What power do you have anymore?"

"And you think I couldn't get another one?" Moriarty replied, finally answering something. He returned to staring hungrily at Sherlock. "You really thought I wouldn't have a backup plan? My backups have backups. A man doesn't get this powerful without precautions. You underestimated me Sherlock, you underestimated my cleverness. Funny how the man who wanted everything to be clever couldn't even see it right in front of him. Tsk tsk Sherlock, you're slipping. Maybe you won't be as fun as I thought."

Sherlock thought for a moment. He met Moriarty's unwavering gaze.

"What is your end game?" he muttered. "What is your goal? You wanted to destroy me; that obviously didn't work. Are you going to try again?"

If Moriarty had been smiling any wider, he would have transformed into the Cheshire Cat. "No no no, I don't want that. I've decided that's boring. I spent too much time worrying about that last time; so now I'm just going to have some fun." He stood up and walked towards the door, waving his hand as if he was conducting an imaginary orchestra. "Give John my love."

And then he was gone. Sherlock let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He quickly assessed himself, trying to figure out what he was feeling. A bit of irritation, confusion, and fear. Also something else. Excitement? He shouldn't be excited. This was a dangerous man he was dealing with, who had threatened everyone he loved and wouldn't hesitate to do it again. And yet… Sherlock shook his head. He pulled out his phone, sent a text, then sat back and closed his eyes.

It didn't take long.

"We came as soon as we could, are you ok? Jesus, I can't believe this. He just waltzed in here? What was he thinking?"

Sherlock let John rant, knowing he would be done soon. Mary entered right behind him and looked around at everything, assessing the situation. Finally she turned her gaze to Sherlock and raised her eyebrows. He nodded, and she turned her attention back to John.

"He's fine love, calm down. We need to focus on the task at hand," Mary told John, laying a hand on his arm. John exhaled sharply, nodding. That was one thing Sherlock admired about Mary. She always knew the right thing to say to calm John down. Sherlock had tried it a few times, but it just seemed to infuriate him even more. He made a mental note to ask her how she did it.

John sat in the chair opposite Sherlock while Mary took the sofa. "Tell us everything he said, and don't leave anything out. I know you remember it all."

"Well first off, he sat in your chair."

John looked like he'd rather be sucked into the seven circles of hell rather than sit there one more moment, but he stayed where he was. Sherlock quickly relayed everything from the conversation.

"So he knows about Mary," John said. "D'you think he…knows?"

"At this point, I wouldn't put anything past him. I grossly underestimated him last time; I won't be making the same mistake twice. We need to assume he knows everything."

All the color had drained from Mary's face, but she remained focused. "Right, that's not the most important thing. How in the bloody hell did he survive? And what does he want?"

Sherlock grimaced. "I don't know. He didn't give any clues…or maybe he did. I'll have to analyze this more. He wouldn't be Moriarty without leaving clues."

Mary absentmindedly rubbed her stomach while she glanced about the flat. John sat back in his chair and frowned.

"He didn't touch anything, did he?"

Sherlock shook his head. "Not a thing this time. That's what's bothering me. He's being deliberately stingy. In the past he loved giving me clues, helping me along. Why is it different this time?"

"Maybe he wants to make the game harder for you," Mary piped up.

"Have you let Scotland Yard know yet?" John asked.

"Not yet. Could you send a text?" Sherlock asked, holding out his phone.

John chuckled and took it. "Sure."

A few minutes later, Lestrade and Mycroft walked in.

"Dear God, he really showed up here again? He's completely mental," Lestrade burst out, pacing.

"Did you really expect anything less from the man? He forced my brother to jump off of a roof –"

"That was your plan, if I remember the bit Sherlock told me correctly," John interjected. Mycroft cast an annoyed look at John before turning to Sherlock.

"Dear brother, please tell me you've found some method to this madness," he said.

Sherlock was about to reply when Mrs. Hudson ran up the stairs.

"Sherlock dear, Molly's here. I let her up."

Sherlock rolled his eyes as Molly came through the door. "Isn't it getting a bit crowded in here? No offense, Molly."

"None taken," she replied briskly, perching on the edge of the sofa. "Have I missed much?"

"Hardly," Mary replied. "Just a bunch of testosterone having a pissing contest."

Molly giggled, but then remembered that wasn't appropriate. "So what's the plan?" she asked, fighting to regain her composure.

"I don't have one yet," Sherlock spit out. He didn't like admitting that. He started pacing, his mind reeling. The others started talking amongst themselves, discussing various theories and plans. Sherlock felt his blood pressure rising as the volume of the room reached its peak. He was about to yell at everyone when something stopped him short.

"Wait!" he exclaimed, turning to Molly. "What did you just say?"

"I said…" She looked uncertain. "I said maybe it's not about you."

Sherlock grabbed her in a bear hug, spun around, and set her back down. "Exactly! Why didn't I think of that?"

"Because you're an arrogant sod," Lestrade muttered. Sherlock ignored him.

"Molly, you're right. You're completely right. This time it isn't about destroying me, no, he wants something else. Something more important. And if we can get to it before him, we can beat him. Everyone, start searching. What could Moriarty possibly want that he can't get easily?"

The people in the room fell silent, thinking. As Sherlock gazed at them all, his mind worked overtime. Suddenly his head snapped up. John, Mary, Mycroft, Lestrade, and Molly. With Mrs. Hudson downstairs, that meant…

"Everyone out now!" Sherlock shouted, running for the door. The others followed him without hesitation. They made it to the stairwell before the bomb went off.