I own nothing; all characters belong to Arthur Conan Doyle and the writers of the British TV series Sherlock, Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss, and Stephen Thompson.

Summary: After Moriarty recovers from his fake suicide he goes back to cover his tracts by visiting Kitty Reilly.

Thank you for all the reviews and thanks especially for those who were able to tell me Moriarty's false name.

Kitty Reilly sighed as she set down her empty tea cup onto its saucer. A large group of people passed by the window as she stared out but not one of them turned to look at her. Glancing at the round clock on the wall the person who had asked to meet with her was now an hour late. She was a busy woman and didn't need any false leads, or prank callers. But now that it was twelve o'clock she might as well have lunch. Signaling a waiter that wasn't immediately busy with the other customers over, she ordered the grilled fish from the café's limited menu.

It had been four months since her last big story, four months of high media attention and then it was all gone. After Kitty Reilly couldn't produce her anonymous informant for police questioning, people started to get suspicious about her legitimacy on the subject; not that they didn't believe that Sherlock was a fraud. It was only the fact that since he committed suicide a certain police man was starting to wonder what might have been going on, and since she was one of the last people to see him alive the police had wanted an interview with both her and Mr. Brook. However she had been unable to contact him on both his phone and his e-mail account.

Eventually the media moved on and she was left alone. Maybe too alone, her editor had gone back to overlooking most of the stories she covered, and she wasn't even getting a small caption on the front page. She needed a new story that was just as grand and then she could spread her name across the newspapers once again. If only John Watson could get over the fact that Sherlock had tricked him, then she could write the second story of the century. She could see it in her head now; the headlines would read 'The Daily Dealings of a Fraud'. She could put Dr. Watson's story of what Sherlock did every day, and have some input from a few specialists

But that would never happen. Sherlock had entrapped that man in his web of lies too well. Even his house keeper Mrs. Hudson still believed that he was innocent. However if she had to sit and wait for the day they came back to reality her moment to get back into the limelight would be over. Her lunch came, and slowly she ate her meal in silence. Once she finished she paid for the meal and left. The bright sun blinded her for a moment as she stepped out onto the sidewalk causing her to bump into some one and drop her purse. Whoever it was kept on walking, the only detail she could make out was that it was some business man with dark brown hair. Quickly she picked up her purse and continued to walk towards her home.

The most annoying thing about being old news wasn't when people barely recognized you, but when they didn't recognize you at all. Kitty grit her teeth and hailed a cab. She didn't want to walk home any longer. It was a short drive, only five blocks to be exact, but the cabby took a few "wrong" turns and extended the length of the drive. Go ahead Kitty thought; try to raise the amount I have to pay. After all it's not like I have anything better to do than to be in this cab. She starred out at the unsuspecting people on the sidewalks. One of them probably had a good story to tell, maybe even an eye witness to a bank robbery, or a murder. Pursing her lips Kitty reflected on the first blog Dr. Watson had did on Sherlock, 'A Study in Pink' the first time the public had been tricked by that man.

Eventually she realized that the cab had stopped and they were now in front of her house. Embarrassed she quickly paid the amount due without even making a comment on the lousy service. Just as she left the cab another person entered and giving the cabby a new address they drove off. Sighing Kitty walked up the steps to her house and stuck her hand inside her purse for her key's but her hand didn't feel their cold metal surface. Freezing for just a moment she quickly brought her purse in front of her face and frantically stuck her hand inside for the keys, eventually kneeling down and dumping the contents onto the warm cement of her door step. Going through everything twice she stood up realizing that the keys probably fell out when her purse had been knocked out of her grip. Gritting her teeth she punched her door. Instead of landing a solid punch the door swing open.

Surprised she took a step backwards but a deep laugh made her walk inside. Hope coursed through her body at the aspect of another big story. Months without any contact with him and now he was most defiantly inside her house. Quickly she shut the door and ran into her living room. Sure enough he was sitting down on her couch drinking her tea. Apprehensively she took in his new chose of clothes, a dark blue business suit with a silver white tie.

"Richard what is going on?"

He glanced up from his cup and raised an eye brown. "Ordinary." He muttered.

"W-what? Er, I mean what happened, did Sherlock come after you?

"I said that you where ordinary!" He shouted at her.

"Ordinary, what do you mean ordinary?" Kitty's mind raced, why was Richard doing this? Did this mean that Sherlock had faked his death and was forcing his hand again?

"And predictable! Out of all the possible outcomes there were this was the first to come to my mind! This is not sexy!"

"Richard calm down." Kitty said with her hands raised as she slowly approached him.

"Ha! You still think I'm Richard, even after all the evidence in front of your eyes. I can't imagine how he was able to work with people like you! Ordinary, predictable, boring people!"

Kitty stopped trying to get closer to him. Something was really wrong with Richard. "Richard seriously, tell me what is going on."

"MY NAME IS NOT RICHARD IDIOT! "He spat at her, suddenly jumping up from the couch so he was now eye level with her. "I'm Moriarty." His voice was eerily calm.

"Of course it's not. That was all a job Sherlock hired you for." As great as this story would be in the newspaper she needed to get help immediately. Richard had snapped and now in his unstable condition he was insisting that he was Jim Moriarty.

"Of course you still believe that lie, because you need to believe it. You needed the story to make your big debut regardless if it was actually true or not. You ordinary people come to me with mouths panting begging for any scraps I care to throw your way."

"Rob-"Kitty started to say before she was quickly interrupted.

"It's JIM MORIARTY!"

"Okay, Jim, what are you here for."

"You couldn't keep your mouth shut. The police have been searching for me this whole time because you had to go and say that I had been one of the last people to see Sherlock. "

"I was just giving them the basics, and I don't see why you should be so angry about it."

"Of course you don't SEE! You never see anything except what you want to see. Only he could see what was really going on."

"Who do you mean by 'he'?"

"It doesn't matter because you soon be gone." He smirked as a red dot appeared on Kitty's chest.

She followed his eye line and gasped as she realized what he meant.

"Why?"

"How does it feel to know that your pathetic life is going to end while you are clueless to what is actually going on." He laughed.

Kitty's panic stricken eyes locked with his merciless dark brown ones as she felt something rip right through her chest. Her mouth opened in a small 'o' as she stumbled backwards towards the floor.

"Really I should be thanking you for helping me get rid of him, but now life is so very boring. I sure do miss him."

"Who?" Kitty managed to choke out.

"Ah, but that would be telling." Moriarty said while watching the woman's last moments of life slip away.