Disclaimer/AN: I do not own either Sherlock Holmes or Discworld, all credit for characters is given to Sir Terry Pratchett and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Now, I realize that this fan-fic will be mostly on the Disc, however, my use of a certain extreme villain will pull in the forces of Watchmen from around the Disc. Characters I couldn't include in the main description of this include: 71-Hour Ahmed, Vetinari, Chrysophrase, Rincewind, The Luggage, Ridcully, The Witches (mostly Granny, of course), Detritus, Angua, Sally, Carrot, and Miss Edana Fortuna (the head of the Watch in Genua...she's an OC, alright?). So, enjoy your extreme villain in the Discworld. Read and review?

"Bloody hellfire!"

Why me?

It was a classic question, one which Rincewind, now nearing probably sixty years old*, had no idea how to answer. Someone had just come roaring out of the sky at something approaching firespeed**, and plowed him into the ground and made a furrow along the neat lawn of some Agatean nobleman.

And all he could think about, besides the ever-present longing for potatoes and for this to be happening to someone else, was the bill the nobleman would have to pay to have this lawn fixed. Sometimes, his own mind surprised him.

"Ah, Rincewind! It's been a long time! Nearly...gods, forty years?"

Whatever thoughts about who had just plowed into him vanished from Rincewind's mind. Actually, all thoughts ground to a halt, except one, which smirked and then spoke.

Well, I didn't expect to hear that voice again.

Rincewind smothered it quickly. The man had grown grayer, certainly, but now he resembled the current Patrician of Ankh-Morpork...silvering hair, but the eyes and face hadn't changed much in forty years. Just tiny lines where Age had started to ply her craft, and then been frightened off by the eyes.

And like the Patrician, he had a way of staring that made you speak, because he knew that you knew that you knew some information he wanted.

"Oh...er, yes. Er...thirty-four, I think..." Rincewind stammered, trying not to look at the smoldering brown eyes.

"Forty-two, Rincewind!" James replied cheerfully, his sword-cane being picked up from the ground in a neat movement that conveyed that he was neither concerned about turning his back on this wizard, nor was he particularly afraid of anyone, or anything, at all.

"Where are we, Rincewind? Haven't been on the Disc for forty-two years," James asked, looking around the lawn and shaking his head, as if despairing of the style.

He probably is, too, Rincewind thought dryly, but shut the thought up and away, in case the man heard what he was thinking.

"Er...the Agatean Empire, I think...Did you have plans, James?"

The other man looked up, and scowled at Rincewind briefly. "Now Rincewind, none of that James nonsense...I am a professor at the University, or at least I used to be...they didn't take my title, did they?"

"Last I heard, Professor, they kept your title...Of course, the Archancellor hasn't checked yet," Rincewind replied as quickly as he could. You didn't lie to this man...unless you had a death-wish, which Rincewind could safely say he did not have.

"Good...be about your running, Rincewind, I can see you have been running much these last four decades. Enjoy your day, Rincewind," the professor said, dismissing the other Wizard with a wave of his hand. Rincewind nodded once, looked for the Luggage, then started to run Turnwise at great speed, deciding that he wanted to be in the Unseen University for these latest developments...

Besides...Lord Vetinari will throw me in that scorpion pit of his if I don't warn him...

The Professor of Magical Observation and Deduction watched him go with a small, gleeful smile. Yes...on the Roundworld, he had had to act so...professional, so uptight. Oh, but here he could be himself! He could be as insane, as malicious, as evil as he liked! And that young Watchman, that young Vimes...He would be a mature man by now, married most likely. He looked forward to encountering the man's wheedling mind and sense of justice...

Professor James Moriarty smiled. His return would not go unnoticed...not by even one of the Disc's most powerful rulers. And he might as well make a start here, in the Agatean Empire...

*Rincewind hadn't counted his birthdays since that first adventure with Twoflower. Rather, he counted the number of years he had lived since then, but on that island he had completely forgotten how many he was at...and he didn't remember the age he had been before the whole business with a tourist, so it didn't seem to matter anyway.

**Firespeed, noun: The speed at which things will catch fire. When it comes to clothes, unfortunately, they tend to reach that speed somewhat faster than their wearers. It's not a pleasant thing to jump out of a snowdrift, smoking, with no gloves or parka left to keep you warm.

Guys, I'm very sorry that I haven't updated. My grandfather died October 2nd, and so my plans for updates went to the four corners of the earth. I will update before the end of this month, even if it's pathetic...as it is, this story was started long before that happened, and I meant to get it up for ages...