AND... I haven't written anything in a while have I...? No, no I haven't.

I just came up with this little idea quite a while ago, and I just thought I'd write it down... I have no idea whether it's good or not... Or if I'll continue it... Or if it's in character for that matter... But still, enjoy!

Disclaimer; I do not own Sherlock in any way, shape or form... Unfortunately...

Darkness quickly enfolded her as she stepped out into the corridor.

There was hardly a single sound coming from that building that very night, just the click-clacking of her high heeled shoes as she stepped attentively down the corridor, her shallow breath coming inward quaky and exhaling hesitantly too. Not wanting to make a single sound, as her slender hands slowly cascading down to where her skirt was, hitching it up slightly to pull the gun out of where she had carefully hidden it, on the leather holster strapped tight around her pale leg. Soon she was outside the specified room she had been heading towards, and taking a big inhale of air before she had entered inside.

"Ah… Irene," The familiar Irish accent chimed. "And I thought you wouldn't come, I guess I stand corrected… And I see you brought a gift with you too!"

Slowly, Irene Adler uplifted her arm with the gun glinting in the dim light, it still fairly dark and the man's face completely masked by it.

"Would you turn the light on?" Irene sharply replied, the American accent quickly penetrating his ears and having a blunt edge to it, as if she wanted this business to be over and done with as fast as possible.

Lights quickly filled the room up a little too brightly than she had wanted, but it was all the while better than the unnerving darkness. Not that anything such as the mere dark had scared her in the first place…

She hardly wanted to admit it, but this man could pretty much scare anybody. Sure he could seem… almost harmless at first, with his squeaky, almost too high pitched accent that could get on your nerves, the simple gestures, the façade he sometimes placed on… But then he shifted, quite fastly too, to a beast never encountered before that was almost like a demon in human form. Not at all like the now innocent seeming bullies she had encountered at school, nor the 'mates' at college that always seemed to talk behind her back or the colleagues that sniggered at her when she wasn't looking. He was hardly like the corrupt politicians, or those historical figures that should be forgotten rather than remembered for their bad deeds. Oh no… He was nothing like them.

He was worse.

He seemed all the more frightening with that 'battle wound', as he called it. A ragged burn placed right on the left side of his face, it distorting his smile slightly and making him seem a hell lot more darker and sinister… In fact, his eyes to her seemed to darken and dull with emotion every minute…

"I've done as you asked, quite politely too and I'm not on about the whole light thing, if that's what your idiotically thinking, which I'm sure you're not," He smirked, leaning back in the seat he was currently sitting in, whilst Irene grasped her gun tighter. "I want something back."
"And why ever would you assume I would do something for you?" Irene scoffed, clicking the lever of the gun down and just about ready to fire. "Are you out of your mind?"
"Absolutely," He just grinned, jumping up to his feet. "Now come on and shoot me."

Irene paused, her throat dry as she knitted her eyebrows together. What?

"Excuse me?"
"Go on," Moriarty urged. "Just try."

Irene wanted to press down on the trigger, to end this never ending cycle she seemed to go through. Of him using her for his own gain, to do things that she didn't want to do. Sure, in the beginning it seemed exciting and thrilling, but now… Well…

She pulled the gun back down to her side, her face blank whilst Jim Moriarty seeming ever the more pleased by the minute.

"That's a good girl," He said, sitting back down. "Now, about this little deal…"

Irene sighed, not wanting to go ahead and delve herself into this mess again. She just looked away and hoped this little meeting would go by in no time.

"What is it?" She huffed, folding her arms. "It better be something easy this time."
"Hmm… I guess it could be," She heard him chuckle. Irene getting the more irritated and frustrated by the minute, why on Earth was he so complex? She guessed it came with being a criminal mastermind of course… "I heard about your new acquaintance the other day… If you could call him that."
Did he mean…? No. He couldn't, but…

"That certainly was a steamy little fling you had," Jim teased, as Irene started to stop feeling irritated, but feel a cold drip of liquid trickle down the side of her warm forehead. "And I thought he was never the one for those things, especially since it only lasted a single night!"

"You're just jealous," Irene tried to joke, but came out as more of a choke. The gun starting to seem more lighter in her hand, oddly enough. "What do you want with him anyway?"

"Nothing much," She saw him shrug out the corner of her eye. "I just want to return the favour."

"Of?"
"Giving me this scar."
Irene knew that then that this was no simple job, this involved getting her hands dirty. She did not uplift the gun for the man's safety, but more for her own conscience, as surely some screws would come loose and become like him, if she ever did something like that again. She wouldn't allow it.

She let her finger quickly press against the trigger. Feeling some relief when she finally found the courage to bring her arm up again and shoot at the man she had loathed for so many years. She had just glad to get this over and done with, and yet…

When she fired, he did not flinch, no alarms sounded and no bodyguards came running.

A mirror just broke.

Irene stood horrified for a moment. How stupid had she been?

"So it was his-" Irene cut herself off, as she saw the true man rather than reflection, not having time to do anything as the lights flickered off and Jim Moriarty wrapped his arm around her waist and held one over her neck. Grasping her to him whilst she flinched away and struggled, but his grip remained tight and sturdy. Feeling his hot breath in her ear, as she tried to shriek, even though no one would probably come and yet no sound came out.

"Oh, Irene," Moriarty smiled in her ear. "And I thought you were smart… Didn't you notice that the scar was on the wrong side of my face? Or was it just because you haven't visited me in a while… It is beneficial. Any who…"
She held her breath, as his lips were right next to her ear. Quick and hot breath in her ear sending shivers down her spine.

"I want you to entrance Sherlock Holmes like you did before, and when you finally have him at your full grasp, I will kill him."

Reviews are muchly appreciated!

Ah, and if you're ever interesting in Beta-ing, please PM me. My Mother Beta-ed this chapter, funnily enough...