In which James Moriarty decides to "play house" and marry a snarky burglar from Boston. Neither him nor his reluctant wife expect what happens next. Moriarty/OC. Better than it sounds, I hope.

Willow: I don't own Jimmy. He's just one of the voices in my head.

Jim: NO ONE OWNS ME!

Willow: Weeell, Moffat and Gatiss do.

Jim: WHAT? *storms off to find Moftiss*

Willow: This is set between 02x02 and 02x03. Hence why this creep is still alive.

Jim: *whining* I could've survived that.

Willow: Keep telling yourself that, dearie. *winks* Here's my story.

"You picked the wrong house to break into," Someone drawled from the armchair.

For the record, I didn't react. Well, not externally. Internally, I jumped up and down shrieking and ran away. But being raised by a conman has its benefits, and I shrugged. "All part of the job."

"Please, sit."

"Um, no thanks, I'll be going now, sorry to have bothered you."

"Sit."

"Well, I suppose I have time for a chat," I hedged, flouncing over to sit across from him. "I'm Diana."

He smirked. "Liar." It wasn't accusation, just an amused observation.

"Minerva."

"Next I presume you'll move to Venus or Juno."

"I was thinking the epithets of Artemis, actually."

"Mycroft Holmes hired you."

"Creepy guy in a suit with the umbrella?"

"I see he didn't introduce himself."

"Yes, well, his PA got the thought of goddesses in my head with Aletheia."

"What did he tell you about me?"

"Nothing much, actually. He told me you would be out of your flat today, and to get your laptop and replace it with this one." She said, pulling one out of her bag.

He leaned forward, out of the shadow of the armchair, and I could see more of his face. His grey eyes glittered as his smirk widened. "You think by telling the truth, you'll buy yourself some time before I kill you and dump you in the Thames."

"I did offer to leave, and I'm being very frank. Don't I get brownie points for that?"

"I'm not going to kill you."

"So what are you going to do?"

"A brilliant young girl from Harvard with a side life of crime, here in London trying to rob a criminal mastermind? I'm inducting you into my household, mostly to annoy Mycroft."

"And I'm not really given the option of refusal, am I?"

"Not really, no."

"Have you considered what my roll will be?"

"Yes."

This ought to be good. "PA?" I said aloud.

"Dear Lord, no."

"Head thief?" I joked.

"No."

"Consulting Con Artist?"

"Are you going to continue making quips, or shall I tell you?"

"I'm putting it off because I'm not going to like it."

"You see, I play with a lot of high-ranking people. They're so dull, and their mental scopes are so narrow that they'll accept me as one of them—which is of course crucial to playing them—only if I fit into their box."

"Sounds like high school," I said sardonically.

"I need a wife."

Oh, shiiiiiit.

"This or the Thames?"

"Pretty much."

"I'd almost prefer the Thames." I groaned.

He rolled his eyes. "If I had that option, I'd take it."

"Surely you could get anyone—and I do mean anyone—else to play house with you?"

"That's no way for a wife to talk to her husband."

"I'm turning into a feminist just talking to you."

The infuriating man once again smirked. "That wasn't a refusal." He said.

"Screw it. Fine, I'll marry you."

"How romantic. This is the sort of thing we'll tell the grandchildren about some day."

"Oh, no, I may have to live with you and attend social functions and cling to your arm, but there's no way in hell I'm ever…"

"Yes?"

"Well, for starters, can we exchange names?"

"Bond. James Bond."

"Haha. I'm serious."

"I'll continue making up fake names until you tell me your real name."

"I'm Theodora Miller, but I'd much prefer it if you addressed me by the nickname Theo."

"You're telling the truth, I see. I'm James Moriarty. You can and will address me as Jim."

"Alright, James."

"I can also see you're going to be difficult."

"But you loved me enough to marry me," I sang.

He snorted. "I'm still considering the Thames."

Oddly, he was bluffing. I interested him.

Only later did I realise that this interest was far more dangerous for me than if he hated me.

Jim: Review.

Theo: Really, you had to throw my name in there?

Willow: Oh, please, no one else would call him James, and in my head that's how it panned out.

Theo: I should ship you with Voldemort.

Willow: Don't be ridiculous. Voldemort isn't human.

Theo: And Moriarty is?

Jim: I'm still here, you know.

Theo: Don't you have a city block to blow up? A murder to orchestrate? An insane robbery to commit in broad daylight? A case with which to taunt Sherlock? A ridiculous secret code to post on his blog?

Jim: I tire of your boring retorts.

Theo: Oh, go shoot yourself.

Willow: *beaming* See? You're a match made in heaven.

Theo: Never mind, shoot her.

Jim: Oh, gladly.

Willow: *ducks behind pillar* Help!

Jim: And don't forget to review. Or else.