Prologue

How does one react, when one walks into his safe house that no one is supposed to know exists, to see the former British Prime Minister sitting on your couch? Not to mention that this particular former Prime Minister has not been seen in years - in fact, he was rumoured to be insane and dead. Obviously not, then.

'Tea?'

'Lovely.' Jim Moriarty said, taking the offered mug and sinking into the chair opposite. They both took a moment,Master and Consulting Detective, sipping their tea but never breaking eye contact.

'I hear you are looking to make a comeback.' The Master spoke first, in a tone that would have otherwise suggested he was commenting on the weather. 'Quite a display you put on, there. Scared the living daylights out of every soul in Britain.'

'That was the intention, yes.' Jim's lips curved as he sipped his tea. 'For one in particular, at least. The rest were just for fun. Mass panic is a terrific way to annoy.'

The Master gave him a dark smile 'Why annoy when you can destroy?'

Jim made an agreeable sound. 'And you have a way to do that, do you? Destroy Mycroft Holmes?' He thought it was adorable, that this former Prime Minister had so much vengeance in his soul that he thought he had a shot against Mycroft Holmes.

'Oh, if I wanted to only destroy that pompous git, i'd have done it already. Too easy. I want to destroy the whole world. I want to crush every being on this earth.' I want to watch the Doctor suffer while his beloved race ceases to exist, he thought.

Jim let out a slightly mocking, appreciative whistle. 'And you think you can do that, do you?'

Suddenly the man was in his face, close enough to feel his breath and see the madness in his eyes. Jim leaned back slightly, not used to anyone being bold enough to get in his personal space. Usually it was the other way around. This man must have a death wish. 'You think I can't? If I wanted to, I have the means to disintegrate you all on the spot. Right now. One moment you're sipping tea, the next...' he made a popping sound with his mouth, hitting Jim's tea out of his hands. Jim howled as the scalding tea his hit lap, immediately prompting Jim to tackle the blonde man. Where is Sebastian? Jim's mind fleetingly provided as he put the former Prime Minister in a headlock. His hands almost immediately loosened involuntarily as he felt his arm being bitten. The next thing he knew, he was on the floor with a throbbing cheekbone. The Master squatted beside him, all traces of pleasantries gone from his features. 'You will help me.'

'You hit me!' Jim blurted out in complete and utter disbelief.

The Master hovered above Jim, face slightly swimming in his vision. 'I can kill you on the spot, but here's the thing: I want to kill everyone, not just you. Right under the Doctor's nose. Since I am no longer Prime Minister, I no longer have the resources I would. The Doctor has reduced me to little more than a tourist, but I can still hack together weapons from alien technology. He's not the only one that's clever. But I need someone who will help me spread the cheer, as it were. That would be you, James Moriarty.'

'What's in it for me?' Jim asked, nursing his cheek.

'I'll consider not killing you at the end.'

Jim snorted. 'As if I would let you kill me. Do you know who I am? Only one man has ever got so close.' Jim's mind shifted, not to the first time, to Sherlock and he seethed. He wanted to unravel Sherlock piece by piece and have him begging for his life, before suffering a slow and painful death. He wanted Sherlock Holmes' head above his mantel piece, eyes like glass, with his I O U apple shoved in his mouth. One day, he promised himself, and let his eyes refocus on his current threat. 'You mentioned alien technology?'

The Master nodded sharply. 'I'm a Time Lord. I have a time machine, along with weapons and such.'

A time machine… Jim's brain almost short circuited as his thoughts once again flew to his arch enemy. Who could pass up such an opportunity? He shoved the Master back and sat up, giving the man (alien?) a once over before snorting. 'I don't believe you. You could be all talk and no walk. Where are all these alien weapons? All I see is a dead man walking.'

'Isn't that enough? What more do you want?' The Master asked. A dark grin was spreading over Jim's face before he even realised it, knowing pieces of a new plan were falling into place.

'Convince me.'

'Those things will kill you, you know.' A voice floated through the darkness and smoke.

'Is that a fact, Doctor? Do you know for certain?' Mycroft huffed and decided if the Doctor was going to make him feel guilty about smoking, he was at least going to have one last drag. He put the cigarette between his lips again.

'Oh, come now Mycroft - that would be cheating.' The Doctor chuckled, far closer than before. He ducked out from behind Mycroft and plucked the cigarette from between his lips, dropping it to the ground and quickly crushing it under his heel. 'Though it's not recommended. Doctor's orders.' The Doctor's lips twitched upward and seeing this, Mycroft puffed his last mouthful of smoke directly into the Doctor's face out of annoyance. Smug bastard. The Doctor immediately reeled back, fanning his hand infront of his face and coughing. 'You know…' He said between coughs, giving Mycroft a pointed look. '...You and your brother aren't as different as you think.' Mycroft just gave a derisive snort in response. 'Why are you here, Doctor? What's wrong?'

The Doctor gave him a look like a kicked puppy. 'Why does anything have to be wrong? Can't I just visit my old pal Mycroft?' He made to give Mycroft a playful punch in the shoulder, but then thought better of it, his hand dropping back to his side awkwardly. To this Mycroft sighed, wishing he still had his cigarette. 'Doctor, you never make social calls. Whenever you make an appearance in our lives, it's either to tell me that an alien lifeform is threatening our very existence or to let me know the world is ending. So which is it this time?' Mycroft finally levelled the Doctor's gaze and for a moment they just looked at one another, knowing that the conversation they had next could change everything.

'...Both.'

The Doctor spoke softly, with regret in his eyes. 'I need your help, Mycroft. Not just you, I need Sherlock, too. All hands on deck, as it were. There's an alien back on earth who could only ever spell disaster. I can smell him.' The Doctor breathed deeply and wrinkled his nose in distaste. Mycroft shook his head.'You know my terms, Doctor. Sherlock is not to be involved. God knows what carnage he'd cause knowing time travel really exists.'

'I'm afraid there's no choice this time. Sherlock is involved already, whether you like it or not.'

'Doctor.' Mycroft growled, finally turning his body to face the impossible man, fingers itching for the trigger of the small pistol he kept inside his suit blazer. How dare the Doctor threaten the life of his little brother? The Doctor immediately threw up his hands in a peaceful gesture. 'It wasn't me, I swear!'

'It's always you, Doctor. The human race has almost died because of you countless times and you try to shift the blame?' Mycroft shook his head in disbelief. The Doctor gave him a hurt look. 'Well, Mycroft, you certainly have an odd way of saying thank you!'

'Yes, thank you Doctor for putting our lives in peril once more. You know Sherlock causes enough trouble, I already have more than enough reason to worry about him constantly. Are you looking to put me in the ground early?'

Despite the weight of Mycroft's look, the other man gave him a lopsided grin. 'Sounds like you need a Doctor, my dear Mycroft.'

'Don't you dare make this into some kind of joke-'

'Look, if you refuse to help, i'm not going to be the one putting you in the ground early. It's not just alien lifeforms threatening the earth this time, Mycroft. There's another player whom I believe you and your brother both have experience with.'

Mycroft drew in a cold breath, knowing exactly why the Doctor needed Sherlock this time around, but not wanting to admit it. 'Moriarty is dead-'

'You know better than that, Mycroft.'

Mycroft hated that he did, in fact, know better.

'What kind of time do you call this?' A less-than-amused voice called from inside the darkness of the apartment. Sherlock groaned before he flicked on the light, seeing his best friend seated in the chair solely reserved for him.

'I could ask you the same thing. Won't Mary be worried?' Sherlock sneered slightly, avoiding John's eyes and walked straight to the kitchen to make tea. 'She knows I can take care of myself. You, on the other hand…' John snorted. 'You need someone to look after you, otherwise you could literally drop off the face of the earth and the only person who would notice happens to have the country's nuclear codes. I don't want a world war started because you decided to go on a bender.' John said, only half joking. Sherlock shot him a glare while getting the milk out of the fridge.

'For god's sake, I'm not on a bender, John. I'm on a case. I don't need a babysitter.'

'You need a friend - and no you're not. If this was a case, I would be with you instead of waiting for you to get home.' John corrected him. 'Besides, when you're on a case, you don't eat.' John eyed Sherlock's freshly made tea. 'Eating slows down your thought processes… or something?'

Sherlock sighed and made his way toward his room, intending to slam the door in John's face. 'Now hang on!' John jumped up, trailing close behind. 'Sherlock, you've got to tell me what's going on.'

'Why, John? It's none of your concern.' Sherlock said cooly, attempting to close his door, but instead of the satisfying slamming sound, Sherlock was met with a low groan as John's foot was crushed. 'Sherlock.' John gritted his teeth. 'I am your friend. Of course it's my concern. Just bloody tell me already and i'll leave you alone.'

There was a pause as Sherlock silently struggled. Finally he let out a sharp huff of frustration. 'Fine, it's Moriarty.'

John sighed. 'Sherlock-'

'You wanted to know! Now you know. Goodbye!' Sherlock attempted to close the door again, still thwarted by John's foot. 'Would you stop bloody doing that?' John hissed. 'I'm going to be hobbling for the next week if you keep crushing my foot!'

Sherlock's lips curled. 'Just like old times, then?'

John chuckled despite his pain. Then he met Sherlock's gaze and sobered again. 'Sherlock, seriously, what's wrong?'

'He shouldn't be alive.' Sherlock said, a wave of fatigue washing over him. He leaned his forehead against his doorframe. 'Well, yeah.' John said, as if Sherlock was stating the obvious. Sherlock sighed. 'No John, you don't get it. You weren't there, you didn't see it. Moriarty put a bullet in his brain. There was no way he survived that. He cannot be alive.'

'Hey, I believe you.' John said, placing a comforting hand on Sherlock's arm. 'There must be an explanation. After all, you jumped off a building and you're still here.'

'That's different.'

'Could have fooled me.' John gave him a hard look, letting his hand drop. 'Look, I think you just need a case to take your mind off it. If Moriarty is alive, there's no doubt you'll be hearing from him sooner or later.'

'But he's alive, John! How could I possibly focus on anything else?'

'Because, Sherlock, your full attention is exactly what he wants. Imagine what he can get away with when you're not paying attention. You need to keep focused.' Sherlock groaned. 'Fine, if it'll shut you up, i'll take a case.'

John grinned, glad to be getting his friend back.