It was in an abandoned train station that Moriarty waited to make the payment. He was surprised that the men he hired were competent enough to do their job (or at least one of them was), and he was also a little disappointed that the woman Samantha didn't make it out alive. She really did seem to have his best interests at heart having gone through the effort of jury duty and all. Not to worry. He was still having a good day. The trial went exactly as planned, his chat with Sherlock was most pleasant and he only needed to pay one assassin instead of two. A good day indeed, he thought, taking a bite out of his sandwich and sitting back on the bench.

He heard footsteps approaching.

"Ah! Mr. Gibson," he said jovially, grabbing the briefcase full of cash as he stood. His pleasant demure faded quickly when he met his hitman who was being held at gunpoint. There she was, that wretched woman alive and kicking.

"Mr. Gibson," Moriarty sighed dismally, "I don't take kindly to people who lie about getting a job done for me."

"It wasn't my fault," Gibson cried, evidently in pain, "It was-"

Peeooooooow!

The sound of the gun shot crackled in the air for a moment before dissipating, and Gibson fell backward hitting the ground hard. Samantha jumped back with fright, moving away from the body and regaining her composure to train her gun on Moriarty.

"Ah-ah!" he said as if scolding a child, and pointed to the red dot that appeared on Samantha's chest. "That's Sebastian by the way. Say hello!" Moriarty waved towards the distance behind him and the red dot wiggled in response.

"And I've been nothing but nice to you," Samantha quipped coolly.

Moriarty took another bite of his sandwich and regarded her thoughtfully. She looked different than she did this morning when she was dressed proper and business-like for court. Now she was wearing a pair of jeans with brown boots and a brown leather jacket. Her hair was in a respectable ponytail and a backpack hung from her shoulders. She looked as though she was prepared for travel.

"Try not to take it too personally," he said apologetically, "It's not that I don't like you, it's just that I've got a good thing going right now and I can't have you mess it all up."

"So you tried to kill me," she said flatly.

"Weeeeell…yeah… but I didn't really intend to. I just needed to…distract you for a bit."

Samantha strode forward, pressing the barrel of the gun under his chin.

"Distraction's over," she said, "I'm tired of playing nice."

Moriarty held one hand up indicating to Sebastian to not shoot, as the red dot moved to her temple.

"You know, if I die, you die," said Moriarty matter-of-factly.

"Win-win," Samantha shrugged.

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. She was tenacious. She wasn't afraid to die and Moriarty reckoned she probably welcomed it. He wondered what she really feared.

"You know, your fingerprints are all over the gun that killed two people back at the apartment," he said, "I've already called the police giving a witness account."

"Please," snorted Samantha, "I have a much higher authority than the police."

"Ah yes, what's your position again?" Moriarty pretended to think hard, "42-12-19?"

Samantha's jaw dropped, her pupils shrank to pinpoints, her body rigid. A wide smile broke on Moriarty's face, soaking in the pleasure he took from her shock alone.

"Oh, that is just precious!" he beamed, "Really, I'm just going to have to savour this expression forever, it's just too delicious." He stuffed the rest of the sandwich in his mouth and pulled out his phone to take her picture.

"See?" he said, with his mouth full, showing her the photo, "This is going to be my wallpaper for the rest of the year!"

"H-how?" she stammered, showing weakness for the first time since they met.

Moriarty held up a finger as he chewed the rest of his sandwich before swallowing it.

"Well," he gestured boastfully, "There was that little bug you planted on me during our first encounter. I reverse engineered it, put it back together, but reprogrammed the destination it sent GPS signals to. And then on our last encounter I stuck it to-"

"My bloody tablet," Samantha groaned.

"Yes!" Moriarty was getting giddy now. He loved showing off. "I knew exactly where you were, any time, any day. And once I got my hands on your tablet, well you're really not going to believe the information I scoured from it. Conspiracy nuts would have a field day!"

"The only information I had on that thing was about you," Samantha intervened.

"Well, yes, but you had to stream it from your company's cloud server, which once I managed to hack into, I had full access to all of your employer's super sensitive information."

Samantha paced back and forth, her hand on her forehead, trying to make sense of it all.

"Well…" she struggled, "So? My employer trusts me. They'll know what really happened to that agent once I give my alibi. What are you trying to threaten me with exactly?"

"See, you…(and by you I mean me with your password and secret agent identification number) may have…leaked some of that data to some very high up people. And then you (and by you I mean me) may have blackmailed your own employer by threatening to expose the agency to the world."

Moriarty paused for dramatic effect. Samantha was now shaking.

"I put a signal blocker in your apartment so they couldn't contact you," Moriarty continued, soaking up every bit of the woman's grief, "That's probably what the agent was looking for before one of my boys shot her."

"But I got a phone call from the agency before the trial!"

"You sure it was who you thought it was?" he said a little patronizingly.

Samantha was stunned. Moriarty was doing cartwheels inside his head. He broke her. He finally broke her. Everything she'd ever worked for was crashing down around her ears, and Moriarty was loving every bit of it.

"I called a courier to pick us up," she said, suddenly alarmed, "They should be here any minute."

"What ever will you do?" said Moriarty in mock sympathy.

"I- I don't know," and then her expression hardened, "Fix this," she demanded, pointing the gun again.

From outside the station a car horn sounded.

"That's my ride," he replied, "Come with me. I think we can come to a negotiation."

"Why on Earth-?"

With an obnoxious sigh, Moriarty pushed the gun aside and pulled her close to kiss her.

"Because I like you. There, I said it," he sulked, "Now are you coming or what?"