A/N: It's sequel time! So if you haven't already, you should check out my fic How to Apologize to Molly which is the first story to this series. I'm really excited about this sequel and I hope you guys like it. This first chapter is all introductory information and we will reunite with our beloved characters in chapter two. Also if there is anything you guys would like to see in this story, let me know in reviews. I have everything laid out but I'm open for little suggestions (more Sherlolly, Sherlock and baby Ava scenes, etc.) I am also taking prompts for one-shots over on Tumblr (same username as on here). Thanks for reading and if you like it leave a review!-thefaultoflegend

It was all so normal. That was this first thing that Chris Palmer noticed as he sat in the lobby of a prestigious law firm, clutching a briefcase and adjusting his suit while he waited for the secretary to call him in. The man behind the large oak doors who he was about to see was someone whom he had spoken to before, many times in fact. They had conversed about various things over the years, but Chris wouldn't really call that a friendship. Their conversations consisted mostly of body counts, locations of criminals, devious plans to be put into place, the average dealings of a criminal mastermind. They were far from that, of course. They weren't masterminds. They were more like the minions, the monkeys, troops, awaiting orders from their master, whoever or wherever he may be. They never saw a face, only heard a voice, as was the case with much of their relationships with the web with which they were entangled. Phantom voices, coming from nowhere it seemed.

Chris often questioned whether or not it was real, if he was indeed part of such a vast criminal network, a network so complex and secretive that a man who spent two years trying to take it down couldn't even complete the task. The consulting detective whom the web feared was clever, but not clever enough.

Word travelled fast and when it was announced that Sherlock Holmes was after them, the minions went back to their hiding places, scurrying into the dark corners of the world, blending in, staying hidden. It wasn't hard for some of them, the ones who didn't choose to be in this position in the first place. Of course, joining the ranks of James Moriarty was never really a choice. It was usually done by force, through information. Oh, he knows that you killed a man and you're wanted by the country? He'll keep you protected as long as you work for him. Have a little run in with some drugs? James will help you, but then hold it over your head for as long as you live. But the lifestyle that they were presented with was addicting. Who could resist tracking down people who deserved revenge? How could one stop the killing and the destruction once it all started? Having power. That's what Moriarty's web was all about. And power was addicting. Power could make a father with three kids and beautiful wife turn into a trained marksmen, able to hit a target from yards away without so much as double checking. Power could make the weak strong, make others cower in fear. And it was intoxicating, that feeling. That's how it was with Chris and the man whom he was about to meet with. All he had was a name and a voice. Paul Wise. His voice was low and gruff, his words over enunciated. An English accent. Chris had never seen Paul despite their numerous conversations. This would be the first, the first necessary meeting. Because something happened that would change everything.

Their master was in jail. James Moriarty had a life-sentence in a high security prison, guarded and protected and never able to get out. At least that's what Mycroft Holmes thought. But the web? They laughed in the face of Mycroft Holmes. Now there was a man who was addicted to power. He could have anything done with just the click of his fingers and he loved that. They could all tell from that smug grin, the nose pointed in the air, him thinking that he was so much better than everybody else. Mycroft Holmes was scum. His power meant nothing to the web. His declarations were hollow. Because here was the thing; the web was going to get James Moriarty out. Nothing, not gurads, not guns, not chains, not fences, not anything had stopped them before and something as simple as a prison wasn't going to stop them now.

Sherlock Holmes thought he had got them all, thought he had picked off every last one of the little spiders. He was so wrong. He made such a big mistake. Because he missed the most important pieces. He missed the higher-ups, the ones calling the shots. The web was like a corporation, a hierarchy system. With the most important people being the most well protected, the best hidden. And now here they were, plotting and planning and recruiting and making their way back into to the real world of crime, of killing and stealing and undoing entire government systems, sometimes just as a way to spend an afternoon. It was all a game and it was fun for them, just as solving crimes was fun for Sherlock Holmes.

The secretary had finally spoken up, her dark eyes piercing through Chris from above her wide-framed glasses. He wondered briefly if she was a part of the web. He doubted it. James rarely took women unless it was absolutely necessary. And he had good reason. "Mr. Wise will see you now," said the woman in a nasally and bored tone as she motioned toward the large doors. Chris didn't even thank her, instead stood up, smoothed down his suit jacket, and walked purposefully toward the door. He pushed one open with one hand and was greeted by a large room with a spectacular view of the city. The floor they were on was high up on the building, the kind of high up that held secrets and conspiracies. In front of the windows sat on old wooden desk with delicate carvings on the outer sides and matching chairs sitting in front of it. It fit the look of the room nicely as everything felt quite ancient, but royal all at the same time.

The man who was sitting behind the desk looked up. He was in his early 40s, his jet black hair jelled back and his black glasses pushed up against his face. His build was large and he was tall, even sitting down. He was intimidating, even to Chris who dealed with criminals on a daily basis. The man stood as Chris walked over and held out his hand. The two men shook once, their hands gripping the others fiercely and their eyes assessing the other one, secrets being passed between two practical strangers.

The two men sat down on opposite sides of the desk, still staring at each other for several seconds. The tension in the air was thick, as was the occasion for meeting and each man could feel it with every breath they took, the air heavy and weighing down on top of them, bringing their worlds down.

"I'm sure you know why I called you here," said Paul with a curt nod, never breaking eye contact.

"Yes. He is gone, as good as dead," replied Chris.

"No. He is currently detained. That is different. Dead, we can't fix. Detained, however, that's easy. It should be no problem at all."

"But what about those idiots Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes? You know they are heavily involved with James' incarceration. They'll be patrolling that place like hounds, watching his every move." Paul thought for a few seconds, rubbing the scruff on his neck before continuing.

"Sherlock Holmes thinks that this network is defeated; I highly doubt he'll be that much concerned. Especially with his current life circumstances."

"Ahh…yes. The girlfriend? Who would have seen that coming? I suppose we'll have to come up with a new nickname," chuckled Chris.

"Even with the girlfriend, I think the nickname still fits. The Virgin. I'm glad he's out of our hair," said Paul and leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yes, but what about the other woman? The one we are not to speak of. Do you think she'll involve herself?"

"She hardly deals with these matters anymore. She is not of our concern. As I see, she has moved on."

"But she was one of us once. You know that once this lifestyle starts it's hard to quit." Chris raised an eyebrow and Paul and a wordless exchange passed between them.

"Well if she decides to join our ranks then we'll gladly take her. But for now, recruitment. We need numbers and we need them fast."