Author's Note: So, this idea has been playing around in my mind for awhile and now, I'm finally writing it down. No matter how long a story floats around in my head, I can come up with a reasonable beginning and a (in my opinion) good ending. I struggle with the middle of stories because, well, I don't know, I might loose inspiration, waiting for the BBC to broadcast Sherlock may take who knows how long and if I don't have inspiration then I take forever to write more chapters. Okay, you as a reader probably get this a lot but, reviews give me inspiration, so, please review! I'm going to stop boring you with this A/N and get on with the story...

DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything Sherlock related, just my OC Eloise...

Chapter 1

Walking down the street towards my next appointment, I noticed a man watching me. I turned towards him. narrowing my eyes he realised he'd been spotted. He ran in the opposite direction, I turned on my heel, thankful for my trainers, I sprinted down the strangely empty London street after him. Turning down an alley, I felt something pressing on the small of my back

"Ah, ah, ah." A voice said behind me. I tried to turn my head but whatever it was pushed harder.

"You move, you die." I could hear the smirk in his voice,

"So noble of you," I said "killing you're victim without them seeing your face. It could use some work though." The pressing item was removed and I was spun round to face him.

"Hello." He said, planting a chaste kiss on my lips.

"Jim." I said in return. He smirked at me and kissed me again. "How are you?"

"Oh, you know. Bored." He hummed

"Nothing changes. What about that Sherlock bloke? I thought you were 'occupied' with him."

"I was. But that stupid cabbie went and died." I could see that he was getting frustrated so I did what I was best at.

"What's missing?" I asked. He raised an eyebrow,

"We're doing this now?" I nodded "Here?" I nodded again, causing him to sigh. "Phone." He stated.

"Nope." He continued to guess various items that should have been on his person.

I should probably explain. I, am a criminal advisor. I help people work out the flaws in their plans, they want to kill someone, I tell them how to do it without getting caught etc. Jim? Oh, well, Jim. He's an acquaintance of mine. He would be a friend except we've both agreed that we don't have friends. I advise criminals. He arranges crimes. Jim is the worlds first and only Consulting Criminal. Jim Moriarty. In case you were wondering.

My name is Eloise Lancaster. I might be a criminal advisor but, I'm an aspiring pick-pocket. I say aspiring. I'm basically a pick-pocket already. If only I could fool Jim.

"I give up." He said. I felt my eyes bulge out of their sockets (Not literally, obviously.)

"What?" I asked, I couldn't believe it.

"I give up." He repeated. I mentally jumped for joy. I had finally beaten the infamous Jim Moriarty. "What's missing?" He asked.

"You know," I began, delaying the subject "the sky sure is blue today."

"El. Come on!" He said playfully.

"You." I said poking his chest, "are just a big kid." He laughed. Smirking I stepped back from him. He stepped closer

"Gun." I said. He looked confused

"What?"

"Your gun. It's missing." His eyes grew wide. I pulled it out from under my jacket and waved it in his face. He smirked again and walked to stand in front of me. Taking the gun out of my hands, he leant forward to whisper in my ear

"Seven o'clock, Westminster Bridge." And with that, he left me standing in the alley.