She stepped down the stairs looking through a file of hers. She had left her phone in Molly's lab when she had come down to escape the demands of the head of the hospital yet again but was in desperate need of it now. "Molly, have you seen-" She paused as she looked up from her folder at the room noticed a very disturbing scene. Sherlock was looking through a microscope while John, Molly, and a man she had never met all stared at Sherlock in a loving manner as if he was some sort of God that needed revering. Sherlock Holmes was a human trying to be a God, but that was it, wasn't it? He was human. "Oh for God's sake!" she shouted snapping the folder shut and making everyone jump as they didn't hear her enter. They all looked at her. "He's not that… he's just a man. If I stab him, he'll bleed!"

"Go away, Ginny," Sherlock said coldly. "You are distracting."

"No," she said sitting in a chair and slamming down her folder on the counter. Why? Why was this annoying man entering her life now? Why couldn't he just leave her life? They managed three years with her in London without any run in, now he was everywhere. She stared at him irritated; she felt her hands clench into a fist. Her mood was not the pleasant right now, and the atmosphere in the room reflecting him being some creature of grandeur was making it worse. He looked over her just as irritated. He looked over her trying to deduce her. All he could say with certainty was that she was a psychiatrist, which he knew; she didn't sleep much, which he knew, and that she was seething, which was so obvious even John could see that. He scoffed but continued to look her over.

"Oh! Jen, this is Jim," Molly said trying to introduce her, but she just glared at Sherlock. For some reason, more than the debt, he just got under her skin though she couldn't quite explain it, she had a feeling this would be the height of her hatred for him. The feeling was mutual on his end. Sherlock's hands were clenched as he rested the urge to throw her out of the lab so he could proceed to work.

"So you're Sherlock Holmes," Jim said breaking the silence. "Molly's told me all about you. You on one of your cases?" he asked him.

"Why are you still here?" Sherlock asked Jen. "Get your cell phone and get out." She swiped her phone off the counter near him but continued to give him a look of loathing.

"I want to ruin you, Mr. Holmes," she said quite clearly. "I want to ruin, because it would be a challenge."

"Jen, you promised not to do this," Molly said flustered and slightly begging her. Molly had seen Jen ruin people, and it wasn't pleasant. Her target always ended up in a state of complete defeat.

"Words are empty," she replied quickly as her and Sherlock continued their staring contest.

"I'd like to see you try," he replied in a challenge. He imagined that a battle with her wits or even a physical altercation would be a challenge he would find difficult to face.

"Is that a dare, Mr. Holmes?" she asked him fiddling her phone in a single hand as she made a rather bad attempt to keep her anger in control.

"I double dare you," he said playing her games.

"You'll regret that," she told him tilting her head as she watched him carefully through curious eyes.

"Jim works in I.T. upstairs. That's how we met. Office romance," Molly said trying to break the tension in the room but failing. There was no stopping their intense arguing.

"Why do you feel the need to break those you find superior to you?" he asked her still observing her and her movements. "Something's happened to you to give you that superiority and inferiority complex, but what? A lonely little girl who felt unloved by her family."

"How about the lonely boy that everyone proclaimed a freak," she relied coldly.

"Jim is-"

"Gay," Sherlock finished for her coldly having no interest in this Jim at the moment. He had no interest in anyone, but the woman in front of him proclaiming to be his downfall. He dwelled over the idea of her behind his demise. He wondered if she could manage it, and how he would feel about it if she was the one who ended him. Molly's frown deepened.

"Sorry, what?" Molly asked.

"Not gay," Jen replied in challenge. She really didn't look at Jim as she challenged Sherlock's accusation. She was really just arguing the opposite for the sake of an argument.

"Now you're just trying to refute me for the sake of it," he replied hitting the nail on the head. Jen snorted.

"Right," she replied sarcastically hiding the truth as her phone went off taking her mind away from the sudden bitterness that had been consuming her.

You're late. -Carrie

"Well, this has been just pleasing," she said bitterly. "I have to go." She turned to leave. She made her way annoyed to the elevator. She hit the button hard before she stepped inside and pressed the button for several floors above. She wondered if Carrie would mind heading to a gym of some sort. She certainly couldn't bring her to the fight ring.

"Hold the elevator!" a voice shouted. She held the doors and saw Molly's supposedly gay boyfriend, Jim. She rolled her eyes and allowed him in. He gave her a smile which she ignored and stepped inside. "Thanks. You're Molly's friend, aren't you?" he asked as she let go of the doors. He seemed pleasant enough. Good for Molly.

"Yes," she said bored not truly interested. If he and Molly were serious, which was- she hated to admit- doubtful, she would meet him when she was in a more pleasant mood and not ready to murder the next idiot to antagonize her.

"You seem to really hate Sherlock Holmes," he said innocently. Jen rolled her eyes. No shit, she thought before finally looking at him. She started with his feet and moved her way up. She had to admit that so far, Sherlock was right about the gay thing until she hit his eyes. She frowned. There was a problem- no, problem was a immense mistake. This was catastrophe. This man was a threat to her, but more importantly he was a threat to her friend. She hit the button to stop the lift mid ride.

"Why'd you stop it?" he asked her innocently. It was unnerving, and she wasn't going to play games with a psychopath, not today, not now. She wasn't going to have him acting like he was just some bystander.

"1-1," she told him very seriously.

"What?" he asked her.

"1-1. I only ever use the statistics 1-1 in one case, and one case only, if the person in front me is a complete unpredictable psychopath, who would kill me without a second glance and enjoy every second of it. You are 1-1. What do you want?" He looked to her acting surprised, still acting innocent. She wouldn't buy it. "Cut the bullshit. It's just you and me here. Who the hell are you?" He smiled at her incredibly pleased. His face seemed to warp from one of a nervous, innocent man to one of sharp wit and cruel thought. It was frightening.

"You may not have the deductions of Mr. Holmes, but you know a psychopath when you see one," Jim said switching to a more natural Irish accent. "Very good, Doctor, but what now?" he asked.

"Tell me who you are," she demanded.

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet," he told her with a mocking smile. "A psychopath would still be a psychopath, and a genius still a genius no matter his name." Oh, it was a bad idea to mock her, not now. Not when she was already fuming.

"Listen, you psychopath," she snapped grabbing his shirt and pulling him to her eye level, "tell me a name, or so help me I will strangle life out of you."

"Oh, feisty," he grinned before she threw him into the wall of the lift. He started laughing. This was the problem with dealing with 1-1 psychopaths they found violence entertaining, even beautiful. Nothing made them back off; nothing made them give themselves away.

"A name!" she shouted digging so hard into his shirt she was now pressing into skin.

"Jim Moriarty," he breathed with a grin. Her eyes widened, and she stumbled back to the other side of the lift to put as much distance between herself and this man, this man whose name had contributed to the hell she once lived in.

"Oh, it wasn't all me, Lupa," a woman told her as she held a gun to her head. "I had help… he was my creator, my salvation. I was normal once, just an innocent girl whose dreams had been stomped on, but he showed me what I could be. He showed me the darkness of this world, and how beautiful chaos can be."

"No!" Jen refused. "No, this is all you, Ursa! Don't go blaming someone for what you are!"

"Blaming someone? I'm thanking him," she told her. "He opened my eyes. James Moriarty."

"Oh, so my reputation precedes me?" he teased her. She opened and closed her mouth not sure what to say. She was more stunned than she was afraid. He came closer to her before he pulled her to his side with his arm wrapped around her. She looked up at him in confusion and worry. She was worried he knew who she was. She worried that he would call her out on it. She was worried he would tell her that she was still alive looking for Jen. "Not to worry, I won't hurt you, Doctor, not yet at least. There would be no fun in that," he informed her.

"No fun?" she asked him quietly. "What do you mean?"

"You and I have something in common," he told her leaning into her to speak to her in an intimate manner. It disturbed her, but she kept her face steeled.

"And what's that?" she asked him. He leaned even closer to her and whispered into her ear. His lips brushed against her as he spoke making her shutter and grimace.

"We both want to see Sherlock Holmes in ruins," he said before he leaned in farther allowing his body to press into hers as he hit the button to continue the journey up the levels of the floor. The lift shuttered to a start and Jim gave her just a tad bit of breathing room; Jen silently was processing everything. He didn't know her. He didn't know who she was. It was a relief, but this man was still around Molly and wanted to watch Sherlock Holmes suffer. Would she play this game? Could she play this game? The lift stopped for her.

"I don't care about your game with Mr. Holmes," she told him finally, "but stay the hell away from Molly or so help me you find yourself in a battle you don't want to be in. Do I make myself clear?" She knew the threat meant nothing to him, but she would at least make an attempt to warn him. She wanted him away from Jim as quick as possible.

"Crystal," he sang, and Jen sighed before heading to her office. She had only met one other 1-1 psychopath in her life, and that was her brother. They were intensely difficult to deal with. And now she was a left with another problem: to tell Mr. Holmes, or to turn her back on him and allow Jim to ruin him as Jen had promised. She needed to think; she needed to clear her head. She needed to decided if she wanted to do what was right or what she thought she wanted. Was Sherlock Holmes in ruin truly what she wanted, or was she reflecting her anger and irritation onto Holmes for reasons he didn't deserve?

A/N: Ah, Jim. Got to love him. Andrew Scott is a brilliant Moriarty, my favorite. See you tomorrow! Review please!