Mike was late, as per usual.
The warehouse was dark and cold, but it didn't seem to affect the three men who stood before him. Sebastian and Severin leant either side of the table that was the only furnishing in the entire space. A single, harsh light lit up the table theatrically, and Mark was sure that Moriarty had set it up to intimidate him. Jim himself was perched on the centre of the table, between the muscular blond twins. The symmetry of their positions was surely no accident, Jim's OCD was more to blame than his flair for dramatic effect in this case.
"Sorry, sorry, sir, it won't happen again-just hear me out, okay?" Mike had his hands raised, as though he were surrendering. It would actually be quite amusing, if it weren't so unerringly pathetic. Jim chuckled darkly and gave a sadistic smile.
There was a painful silence, and then, Jim spoke in his chillingly calm sing-song voice. "Now, now Mark, my dear. Calm down, will you? What is it? It better be good, because I seem to remember telling you that the next time you showed up late, I'd let Tiger have his fun with you."
There was an audible whimper as Mark rummaged through his pockets, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper.
"I found one. It took longer than I expected, but I found him."
He held out the paper, bouncing on his heels as he waited for Moriarty to take it.
Jim looked at the paper with disgust. "Severin?"
Severin snatched the page and handed it to Sebastian, who read it out.
"John Hamish Watson," He sighed, in his jagged voice, "Ex-military... Well, would ya look at that, buddy?" Severin smiled. "One of our own, huh? What makes you think he'll do it?"
Mark shuddered under the weight of Sebastian's glare. "Well, well, I-uh, well, that is to say-"
Severin grabbed him by the collar, lifting him off the ground a few inches so he could snarl in his face. "Spit it out, Mark."
"Well, I know him. Personally. An old school friend, actually. Enjoyed the war a little too much, or so I heard, and besides, he has no-one left. He lives alone, and the only person he talks to is his psychiatrist. Even she says he's a write-off. He takes on this job, and he's back in the game. He's back where he belongs. The battlefield!"
Severin was still holding Mark by the collar, Sebastian just behind him. Then, there came a slow clapping sound from the table. Severin gently lowered Mike to the ground, still holding his collar.
"Now, now, boys, I think that's quite enough." Moriarty smiled, jumping off of his seat on the table to draw closer to Mark.
Sebastian slapped a hand on his brother's shoulder, and Severin threw Mark off of him, causing Mark to stumble back slightly.
Moriarty smiled his sickly sweet smile. "And you're sure he can handle it?"
Mark gasped for air and nodded.
"Well, then. Good job, Mark, my dear. I expect this Watson at the flat in 3 days time. Sebastian will fill you in on the details.
John Watson. Oh, if only he had known what would happen next, he'd have skinned John Watson and left him to rot, never mind employed him. But, you see, Jim was in need of someone to dispose of the bodies when he hadn't the time. Sebby and dear Severin had so much work on their hands already, what with all the targets Jim was pushing on them of late.
And so it was that John Hamish Watson came to live at 221B.