The name pervaded bars and alleyways in hushed whispers; tales of a God and a genius and a criminal; a spider with infinite web – Jim Moriarty. The rumours reached every crevice of the underworld, but the words never came with a face. All the people that had ever personally met the man were either far too loyal to divulge such things, or they were dead. That's why, when a short Irishman sat down on the bar stool next to Sebastian, he didn't turn.

"May I buy you a drink?"

Sebastian looked over at him. He was impeccably dressed in a dark suit, with slicked back hair, dark brown eyes, and a strong jaw line. The man was attractive, and he radiated confidence in a way that Sebastian couldn't help but be drawn to. He glanced briefly back down at the empty glass in front of him before replying. It took less than a second for him to decide that he had nothing to lose.

"Sure."

The man looked up at the bartender, who hurried over to him. "Scotch."

The bartender nodded at him and hastily made the drink, sitting it down in front of Sebastian before walking off. Sebastian raised an eyebrow at the choice.

"I know your usual preference is vodka, but you're not drinking that cheap shit in my presence."

Sebastian snorted. "And how do you know what I drink? I don't believe I've seen you around here before." Sebastian really couldn't care less, but if it meant getting laid tonight, he was willing to put up with a bit of small talk.

The man beside him grinned. "Colonel Sebastian Moran, son of the famous Augustus Moran. Served in the army for years, but was dishonourably discharged for excessive cruelty and problems with authority. Left the army to hunt tigers, sometimes with his bare hands, making quite the reputation for himself throughout the world."

Sebastian scoffed at him. "Yeah, tell me something that half the people in this bar don't already know."

The man's face fell, and Sebastian saw something dark in his eyes. The man leaned in closer, until he was whispering in the taller man's ear. "Do they know about Daniel Webbers, your first kill, when you were fourteen? Stabbed twelve times in the chest. An amateur kill, but not bad for a child."

Sebastian turned to face the man fully and fingered the gun hidden against his left hip. "How do you know about that?" His voice had turned cold, his military instincts taking over now that he realized he might be in serious danger.

The man was unfazed, and even appeared cheery. "No, no, Sebastian, you really don't want to shoot me."

Sebastian was unconvinced, but the man kept talking anyway.

"I have a job for you."

"I'm not interested." He didn't know who this man was, but he knew more than he should, and that made him a liability.

"It wasn't a request."

He began to pull his gun out of its holster, tired of this man's games already. He had quickly lost his patience for playing around.

"Put the gun down, Moran."

For reasons that he couldn't explain to himself, he obeyed, sliding the gun back down into it's place. He never took his eyes off the shorter man.

The man smiled widely, then reached forward to pat Sebastian softly on the head. "Good boy. Just as I thought, you'll do quite well." He shoved his hands back into the pockets of his suit as Sebastian growled. "Seems to me that you don't have a problem with authority; you just have a problem giving respect to those who don't deserve it."

"And you think that you're so deserving?" Sebastian quipped, annoyed.

The man grinned again, extending his hand to the soldier. "Jim Moriarty."

Sebastian stared at the offered hand for a moment before taking it and shaking it firmly with his own. He chuckled to himself. A moment later, he turned back to the bar and downed his drink. Then, turning back to Moriarty, he finally spoke, his voice steady, without the scared waver that Moriarty heard so often after introducing himself. "You said you have a job for me?"

Moriarty giggled gleefully before standing. "Let's go. There's a car waiting for us out front."

Sebastian followed the man outside, never looking back at the pub he had come to know so well.

Sebastian's eyebrows approached his hairline as he realized that the car that Jim had referred to was actually a sleek black limousine parked directly in front of the door of the pub.

"Isn't this a bit conspicuous?"

Jim rocked back on his heels playfully. "Conspicuous to whom? All of the patrons in that bar were my men."

Sebastian nodded slightly in understanding. "And I suppose that if they weren't, no one would challenge the great Jim Moriarty."

Jim ignored the mocking note to his voice, but the smile he gave in response was feral. "Glad to see that you understand."

Jim opened the back door of the limo and gestured for Sebastian to climb inside. The older man did so, ducking his head and sliding into the smooth leather seat. Jim shut the door and walked over to the other side, then proceeded to climb in. He turned to look at the driver.

"Take us to the apartment."

"Yes, sir." The car began to move, and Sebastian noted absently that the driver didn't ask any questions. It seemed that Jim trained his men well.

"We're going to your apartment?"

"One of them, yes."

Sebastian scoffed. "Of course you would have more than one."

"Of course. One can never be too care~ful", Jim sing-songed.

Sebastian rolled his eyes, but didn't contradict him.

"So, exactly how many apartments do you have?" Sebastian asked, already knowing that he wouldn't get an answer.

Jim barely glanced at the man beside him. "That isn't something that you need to know yet."

Sebastian nodded mutely to himself. It made sense that this man wouldn't trust him with such sensitive information yet. He didn't trust Moriarty; why should Moriarty trust him? He would have to wait and see where this new turn of events led him.

A/N: This is a multi-chaptered fic, which WILL get darker, more violent, and more sexual as time goes on. Critique is welcome.