James Moriarty paced up and down the corridors of the Van Mildert college building at Durham University, his footsteps echoing down the empty halls. He sighed and started to mumble to himself. The only words audible were "get Sherlock" and "not ordinary". Moriarty bit his lip and frowned. He passed the science laboratories once more and stopped by a window to look out onto the car park. The sun had almost set behind the tall trees surrounding the building and the sky was slowly darkening, revealing the first few stars, twinkling on the navy blue backdrop. He shut his eyes and let the memories resurface.

"But be honest, you're just a tiny bit pleased..."

"What, with the verdict?"

Sherlock's face was contempt.

"With me, back on the streets." Moriarty sneered, "every fairy tale needs a good old fashioned villain. You need me or you're nothing. Because we're just alike, you and I -"

Sherlock shifted in his seat.

"Except you're boring," Moriarty continued, "you're on the side of the angels."

The sound of a door unlocking broke Moriarty's train of thought. He scanned the darkness for any signs of movement, but there was nothing. Slowly, Moriarty moved away from the window and into the dim light of the small lamp above him.

'It's night time, who would be wandering the university at night? Other than the cleaners,' Moriarty thought. 'Thursday... The cleaners shouldn't be here, though.'

"Who's there?" Moriarty exclaimed, hoarsely. He cleared his throat and adjusted his tie, looking hastily out the window. It was completely dark now.

Soft laughter filled Moriarty's ears, sending shivers down his spine.

"I am in no mood to play games! If you're a student and I find out who you are, I'm failing you for the semester!"

Moriarty's empty threat stopped the laughter. He exhaled and closed his eyes. He imagined Sherlock; the Final Decision, everything was working according to plan. He would fall, and be remembered as a fraud, a fake.

"... Because no one can be that clever," Moriarty whispered.

"Maybe..."

Moriarty opened his eyes and spun around, looking down the dark, empty corridor, his heart pounding in his chest. Frustration boiled inside him. He wanted to be left alone, and whoever was there with him obviously had other plans.

"Show yourself!" He shouted, "or else, I will find you, and the consequences will be severe!"

Moriarty gritted his teeth and took a sharp breath. As he exhaled, the soft laughter started again. It was playing on Moriarty's last nerve.

"I am Professor James Moriarty, Head of the Department of Mathematical Sciences at Durham University! I have the capability of failing you for this semester, do you hear me?! This is the last straw!"

"Professor James Moriarty," the voice mocked him, "oh no! Fail me? What a terrible thing! I couldn't think of something that could possibly be worse, dear me!"

That was just about all Moriarty could take from another person, let alone a student. He clenched his fists and bellowed:

"If you do NOT show yourself I WILL RIP. YOUR. HEART. OUT."

The corridor echoed with his threat, silencing the laughter from the faceless intruder. It was a few moments before the voice spoke again, this time saying something that Moriarty didn't quite understand.

"Well that would do you no good," it came from behind him, "considering I have two."