"Put the gun down," she said sweetly.

She looked like Mary Poppins. Right down to the umbrella, which was obsidian black and clasped in one of her gloved hands. Who in their right mind would dress like that? Especially the hat; it was sickly to look at. It looked like somebody had exploded a fruit bowl over her head. She was wearing Victorian-style clothes: a black jacket and a skirt so pinched at the waist it was painful to look at.

He stood up. For some reason, she looked familiar. He took long, slow steps towards the woman, still holding his gun in front of him. "And who are you?" he asked.

"Oh, nobody special," she said silkily. "I just popped in to say hello."

Moriarty looked at her for a few seconds, and then groaned. "You're not one of those infernal forces for good, are you? I had one of those break in yesterday. The same old story: revenge for the death of their sister, which, interestingly, I wasn't anything to do with." He stopped as he saw that the woman was watching him with something like- amusement? What on earth? "He was soon disposed of," he added. No reaction from the woman.

"Oh, I once tried to be a force for good," said the woman. "It didn't work. It was just too boring."

Interesting. "You're challenging me."

"Not at all. I merely came to seek... help."

"You must realise I am not the sort of person to give favours."

"Of course."

Moriarty froze. There was something in that tone. "You're threatening me, yet you are the one at the point of the gun."

The woman sighed, and pointed her umbrella at Moriarty. He raised an eyebrow. What was she going to do, kill him with bad fashion taste? He tightened his finger on the trigger. "I'm warning you..."

"Likewise," she said. There was a buzzing noise from the umbrella, and his gun exploded into billions of little bits. He was left holding only air.

There was a silence. "Impressive," he said after a few seconds.

She smiled. "So nice of you to say so. And now we can talk."

"You want to bargain?"

"Bargain is such a friendly word. No, I want to... blackmail."

"Oh?" said Moriarty.

"Oh yes. You are now the one at the point of the gun. And you like being alive so much, don't you, James? So you be a dear and... assist me."

"There's nothing I would like better." Moriarty plastered a smile on his face, but was grimacing inside. How could so much go wrong in one morning? Now he was the one at the end of the gun, at the mercy of some madwoman. It was a new experience, he supposed.