Hey guys! I need a bit of advice- would you rather I dragged this story out a bit and turned it into a small series, or wrapped it up in another 10 chapters or so? It's your choice, and I'm happy to do either! I've got a bit of a plan how it would work for both ways, but I'll have to put it down to a vote! :)

Jim

I had actually done it. It was a relief to have escaped the close proximity with the Holmes brothers, and a rare feat if the word of my business associate was to be believed. I had successfully driven off with John Watson in my possession, and I had not a scratch to show for my endeavours. To be completely honest, I had really expected more of a fight from both brothers, as Sherlock was presently lying unconscious on the floor of his apartment, and Mycroft had not even shown his sorry face. The thought made me smile, and not for the first time that journey I wished I could be there for when Sherlock awoke. His face would undoubtedly be priceless.

I glanced over at my sleeping prisoner, who had been unceremoniously dumped in the seat next to me as we made our hasty escape. The man was at more damaged than I had been led to believe by my sources, and had lost consciousness from pain half way down the stairs. It was for the best, as he had stopped his groaning, and it made carrying him much easier for my men.

We were now four hours into this godforsaken car journey and I was bored as hell. I had switched cars a few times at various checkpoints which would make it much harder for the government to track my movements, but that meant I now only had one guard in the car with me, and he hasn't said a word since we'd left. He had obviously been too well briefed, and was now worried for his own safety. The problem was, the silence was killing me, and the only interesting thing I could do was inspect John as he slept, which could hardly be considered entertainment. The only thing I could hope for was that he would wake soon, at least then I would be able to have a proper conversation with someone. It was weird seeing my own body slumped next to me, and I couldn't help but glance over at John's face, taking in every detail. The thing that confused me was that when I looked at him, I had little or no desire to return to my own body. I had been certain that the experience of being in John's body would make me long for my own, but sometime between arriving at Baker Street for the first time as John and drugging Sherlock I had unconsciously made a list of reasons I didn't want to be me again. It hurt me to accept it, but I actually liked John's body better than my own. It had certain qualities that I couldn't quite put my finger on, though there was one that I could clearly identify. This body was not being hunted down by unhappy clients and gang leaders. It was not going to be tortured by Mycroft Holmes, especially if he was still intending for John to have it back at some point. And, the best part, even if there was no way for John to return to this body, the older Holmes brother would not damage it. I had made this assumption based on the fact he really would not want anyone outside his little circle to know this technology existed. Therefore, he would not have a good reason for taking me into the darkest depths of MI6 and torturing me for my misdeeds. He wouldn't risk it. This thought brought a smile to my lips as I made a decision. I would fight to keep this body for as long as I lived, or at least until a better one came my way.

After another hour of driving through seemingly endless countryside, we finally pulled up outside an expensive looking estate. The house was huge by any standards, and looked like something out of a magazine. My client liked to live extravagantly, and had not failed to impress me with his lavish lifestyle. I had not lied to Sherlock when I told him I had an important client, but I may not have fully emphasised why I needed John with me so desperately. My client had contacted me asking for proof the machine worked and promising he'd fund me if I wanted to make more to sell around. The one thing he wanted in return, apart from use of the machine, was my body. He said he knew a lot of people who would love to get their hands on Jim Moriarty, as I owed them quite a lot of money. I had originally declined, but seeing as I now wanted to stay in John's body, I couldn't see the harm in giving him what he wanted. He could give John to his 'friends' so long as they didn't kill him, just in case I decided I wanted to be me again. It was unlikely to happen, but I've always liked to be prepared for all possible situations.

My client had told me exactly what his plans were for the machine once I had proved it worked, and they were positively exquisite. The man planned to send some of his employees to switch places with people high up in the government, and therefore set up a government as much under his control as the Prime Minister, though probably not as much as Mycroft Holmes. It was certainly an interesting idea, but it wasn't nearly so glamorous and complicated as one of my own plans would have been.

As the car came to a stop, a group of rough-looking men with guns came and surrounded us. I was not worried, as my client was under constant threat of being attacked, so kept soldiers and guards with him as much as possible. The security on the house was very impressive, though would certainly not be difficult to overcome by someone of my intellect. A guard opened the door to my car for me, and I stepped out, trying my best to keep my face as neutral as possible. No need to give these trigger-happy hooligans any reason to doubt me. I watched as two of them grabbed John and dragged him out of the car, and for a second I thought I saw him begin to stir, but he remained unconscious. I was quite disappointed, but there was certainly a promise of an interesting conversation inside with The Man, as he liked to be known. Despite many popular beliefs, it was Irene Adler who had stolen his name to use as her own and not the other way round. 'The Woman' was not nearly so effective in my opinion, though there was a heavy amount of bias considering I really did not like her at all. She had been fun and even interesting at first, but then she had gotten too involved.

The Man was waiting for me as I made my way inside, and he grinned at me when he caught sight of me. "At last! I thought you would never arrive," he said, and there was a ark glint in his eyes that I was slightly nervous about. Everyone fears something, and my fear was the man in front of me. There wasn't a man on this earth who wouldn't be scared of The Man if they met him, even for a couple of seconds. He could do awful, terrible things to people that made them curse the day they were born, but he could just as quickly give them food or money and a joyful smile. There was no way to know how he would react to something until he did, and if he didn't like something you were as good as dead. He was my idol, and I longed to make as much of an impression as he did when he walked into a room.

"I trust you brought him as well?" The Man said, and I grinned at him before gesturing to John.

"Of course, Father!" I said, "when have I ever let you down?"