A/N - First fan fiction so any feedback would be most welcome! The first couple of chapters are setting the scene with Moriarty... hopefully not too boring... enjoy!

Set post 'A scandal in Belgravia'.

Sherlock receives a text from Moriarty. An invitation for one he simply can't refuse. Moriarty is out to cause trouble but can the world's only consulting detective see through his plan? Or will Moriarty succeed in burning him beyond repair…

Sherlock opened the door to the poolside and swept into the half-light, the army issue Browning straining against the pocket of his tailored suit. Moriarty was already there, waiting, leaning against the wall at the deep end. He looked up as the door swung shut behind Sherlock. The reflections cast off the surface of the pool seemed to give the criminal a distinctly reptilian quality. He stood with an enthusiasm which was not mirrored by the wary detective.

"Sherlock, at last, what a pleasant surprise" Moriarty said exuberantly "you know we really should stop meeting like this… no wait, let's not" the man grinned manically. "You didn't bring your pet, why's that I wonder …"

The taller man stood quietly, determined to give nothing away, his face expressionless.

"Is it because I threatened to blow him up last time?" Moriarty simpered

Sherlock stiffened slightly and his fingers twitched towards his pocket. It was the cue Moriarty needed. Smiling a twisted half smile he continued "and you don't seem to be in the mood for one of our little conversations…shame… I had SO much to tell you... about the pet as it happens… but I see you've lost interest, put him back in the pound… you do know people are prone to euthanizing unwanted animals don't you?"

"Leave John out of this" Sherlock's voice contained the barely concealed threat of violence.

"Ah yes, I know how our little games confuse him. It's you and me Sherlock, we have the intellect, the mind for games. And Dr Watson, well he clearly doesn't… Lacking wouldn't you say?" he winked at Sherlock "On some fundamental level, lacking… But to leave him out entirely? Well now that wouldn't be too much fun would it? And really it's more a case of would that I could, Sherlock, would that I could…"

Sherlock frowned almost imperceptibly, his mind racing. Where was this going? What was Moriarty after? Why was he involving John? His text message had been clear – an invitation for one. Sherlock had been happy to leave his blogger at home out of danger.

"Now now, don't go racing off ahead, you'll ruin all my fun if you beat me to the punch line detective!" the mad man chuckled to himself as Sherlock narrowed his eyes "Yes before we come to that I wanted to discuss an issue that's as close to my heart as it is to yours. It's just such a shame, don't you think, that in order to get your attention I have to keep putting that poor man in danger. I wonder if he finds it distressing. What do you think Sherlock? Did he find it distressing when I wrapped him in a Semtex blanket?"

The detectives eyes darkened and a dangerous, feral look advanced across his features. He fixed the smiling man with a cold stare, biding his time and thinking about the doctors Browning in his pocket.

"Ah, if only looks could Kill! Yes, I see that we share a concern for the good doctors welfare. But I wonder how concerned you'll be at the end of our little conversation? Are you confused Sherlock? You must be, but I promise you won't be for long!" Moriarty paused for effect "You see I'm not the only 'fan' you've attracted, no not by far. And whilst most are as harmless as your blogging fan-base there are a couple of us who have the potential to be a little more, how can I put it… lethal" he watched as Sherlock processed the idea "Oh, don't be surprised Sherlock, it's your intellect, it calls out to those of us who can equal it… and to those of us who surpass it. But of course you don't think that's possible do you? So smug in the knowledge that you can surpass those around you that you foolishly believe you can out-think everyone… It's a nice idea, but I'm about to prove you wrong. I told you once that I would burn the heart out of you, do you remember that?"

"As I said to you before I have been reliably informed that I don't have one"

"Oh, but we both know that's not quite true. In fact, if I remember rightly you confirmed my suspicions in this very room. John Watson, he gave you a heart Sherlock, he opened the frozen door and turned on the central heating. And now I have the pleasure of burning that heart right out of you…" he smiled "I'm curious, do you think it will break you when I rip that heart out? Hmmm? Do you think it will destroy you? Or will you be able to just shut down that feeling part and carry on?"

"I doubt that anything you have to say will have the least bit of an effect on me Moriarty"

"Ah, I do so love a bit of bravado! Well I suppose I'd better put it to the test… fill you in on a little secret…" Moriarty tilted his head slightly before continuing "It's not really my secret you understand, no, not really my game this one. In fact I'll actually be in rather a lot of trouble for telling you but I just can't stand to see you go on like this" he looked at Sherlock dotingly. "You see one of your other 'fans' he likes to play the long game Sherlock. And he's right in the middle of the longest play around… God, it's almost a shame to spoil it… but I'm feeling impatient and life can be so booorrring" He sang the last word in a child-like voice, the sound reverberated around the pool house. "Well you know what it's like. I know you get bored too. At least this should be entertaining… for one of us"

He strode carefully around the edge of the pool, stalking towards Sherlock, his footsteps echoing out. Sherlock's hand strayed towards his over filled pocket.

"Now now detective there's really no need for that. I assure you that I mean you no harm" he laughed "well that's not quite true I suppose, rather I have no plans to put you in any immediate physical danger."

"And what about my plans for you Moriarty? What's to stop me ending this little game right here?" Sherlock pulled the pistol from his pocket and raised it with a flourish, his finger on the trigger.

A single red laser beam fell onto Sherlock's long dark overcoat right over the heart. Should he simply take his shot and be done with it? That would be a terribly interesting way to go…