Time to know where and to whom has Loki gone. Cha chan. Surprise. I also want to tell you that there will be a spin off based off the characters presented in this chapter. The when is the great question. Probably when I have this fic already written or something.

Please enjoy and review ;)

Chapter 21. Evil, Criminal & Mastermind.

I landed swiftly on a familiar sight. The quiet streets of London at these hours were lit by the lampposts located at regular intervals. Some humans wandered, most of them drunk or coming from a party. Or going to one. I didn't exactly care.

I breathed in, smelling the damp air and cold. I hadn't teleported where I wanted, but I had only been there once, so I hoped I was close enough.

I turned on my heels, letting my nose guide me through the streets and alleyways.

Some meters later I turned a corner and found the building I was looking for. Modern and practical. Without embroidery. A lot of glass and black metal, shiny and reflective.

I walked up to the entrance and sniffed at the bell, searching for a trace of smell. There was nothing from him, as it was obvious. He lived there, he would have a key.

I did pick up the scent of that other man he was with the last time. What was his name? It didn't matter. I pressed the button of the bell.

"Oh, look who has decided to pay a visit" said a singsong voice at the other end.

"It has been a long time by your mortal standards."

"Just a couple of years. I've kept myself busy." The man laughed. Private joke? Just madness? If you doubted my mental health you should go check this psychopath. "But how rude of me to leave you waiting outside in the cold. Come, please."

I opened the door and got into the lift. Floor 12. An annoying nonsensical melody could be heard inside.

I tsked and went outside, where a stripe of light poured from a half open door.

Always with the dramatic effect.

The door didn't make a sound when I stepped inside. I almost expected it to creak or something.

"Welcome to my lair, dear Loki of Asgard."

The short man in front of me said the last part mockingly.

"I see you do know about my sentence."

"Well, a sorry excuse for a sentence in my opinion, but since no one asked."

He pouted childishly and I rolled my eyes.

"I won't deny that. But I won't complain either. Let's say I have means to get what I want."

"Don't we all?"

"You and I, James, are quite special. Not even most Aesir possess your… qualities" I flattered. It always comes in handy to play a little demagogical.

"Stop it, you're going to make me blush." He grinned. "And it's Jim. Jim Moriarty."

"I know. You've told me countless times. I just find it fun to call you James. It irks you. "

He made a mocking expression.

"So, what does bring the almighty god here?" Moriarty asked. Without waiting for a reply, he turned his back to me and headed to the kitchen.

I tried to look baffled and a little hurt by the question. Then I realised he couldn't see me.

"Can't I just want to visit a criminal partner in his lair?" I asked, looking around. I went to the living room and sat down on the sofa, placing my feet up and occupying most of it with my legs.

I took my shoes off first, obviously.

"Well, you can. But I do not believe that's the reason for this, is it?"

Jim entered the room carrying a tray with two cups of tea and sugar. He placed it on the table in front of me and took the seat across.

"What is it, then? Why are you here?" He made a pause and blinked twice. "Oh, don't tell me! I know! You have finally grown bored of being boring. You want us to be partners in crime again."

"Not going to happen. I've told you before, James, I do not wish to conquer this Realm. Most mortals are weak and boring." Most are. Frankly it was everybody minus a couple of individuals, but he didn't have to know that. Let little Jim think he was special in the eyes of a god.

"And you've come here for something to entertain yourself with? You should have called; I could have planned something fun. Murder, blackmail, conspiracy, you know. But I won't let you have fun if you keep calling me James."

"I know. But that's not why I'm here. I need to stay off the radar for a while."

"Whose radar are we talking about exactly? I can possibly eliminate them" Jim inquired, leaning slightly forward.

I churned in my seat. I should be careful with what I told him. Not ideal to have this maniac psycho know too much. He was powerful amongst his kind.

"SHIELD" I simply said at last. That was not a lie. Avengers was independent but still it had strong connections with the organisation.

And they were most definitely looking for me too, anyway. Even though they lacked Stark's technology.

"I see. Back to mischief, I suppose?"

"No, actually. I'm trying not to do evil." I answered.

"Just mischievous. That's what I heard. You are becoming boring. Ordinary. You're no fun anymore" Jim complained childishly.

"I'll be fun if I can stay" I proposed. He was too bored as to turn down such an offer. "Maybe I'll even overstep mischievous. Who knows?"

At that he lit up like I had flipped a switch.

"You know it has a price."

"I do. So, what can I pay you with this time?"

He leaned forward to the edge of the chair, sipping his cup of tea while eyeing me carefully.

"Tell me a story. Amuse me."

"A story? What kind, if I may ask?" I was already running mentally through some anecdotes from back in Asgard or Alfheim. From the golden times.

"I don't know. I just want to test that Silvertongue of yours. What have you been up to lately? Tell me."

There it was what he really wanted. Information. No old times then. He wanted to hear about the Avengers; about Stark; about Sherlock.

I wasn't giving him more than strictly necessary. Not too little so he wouldn't think I was keeping things to myself but not too much either. Information is the most powerful weapon in the universe. It can bend and shape the identity of people, twist them into unknown personalities. It is the cause of the rise and fall of empires, the coin in court schemes and revolutions.

I licked my lips as I thought for a couple of seconds how to start. The start was probably the most important part of any tale. It hooked the listener and decided whether or not they would keep paying attention.

"The Allfather has a rather biased opinion of justice. In Asgard, he is justice. His word law and his is the power to decide upon the lives of all of us. He is the King, after all. So when he judged me and banished me to this Realm, I did not know why he had chosen that fate for me. Because he does not disclose his motives to anyone. He could have chosen to lock me up in a cell in Asgard for an unlimited period of time. Or torture me beyond recognisable, break me down like a clock, tear me apart until I begged death. But he didn't. He chose Midgard to teach me a lesson: even the ones I had deemed so insignificant had a life, even though futile. They burn like—"

"That's boring. You're making me want to kill myself" Moriarty prompted.

I narrowed my eyes but reminded myself to relax. He was a handbook psychopath; it wasn't a good idea to displease him. His mood swings could hit from anywhere.

And I was his guest, or at least that's why I was here, to persuade him to let me stay.

So I relaxed and smiled.

"What is so boring about the story of a dark part of my life?" I asked.

"You lost. I am only interested in the sorry of winners." Moriarty smiled smugly. "Speaking of which, I'd rather hear how you won Anthony Stark's heart. Or his body, at least" he added after a second.

Alright, I was shocked that he knew that. But of course I wasn't showing any visible reaction.

"Oh, so you've heard about that. Then you must also know I do not claim possession of him anymore" I lied.

My relationship with Stark wasn't easy, neither now nor ever, but I wasn't giving up that delicious body for some stupid woman to have.

Or, given Stark's lifestyle before his personal assistant Pepper Potts and I happened, a different person each night. Not necessarily all women.

So I was just trying to find out how much he actually knew.

He blinked a couple of times before answering.

"That is news for me. I should punish my informer next time. Maybe I'll kill him."

Jim watched me, scanning for any reaction to his careless words.

"If you are waiting for me to try to stop you, you are really mistaken about me, dear" I replied naturally.

It wasn't even a lie. What he did was not of my concern, and least if it only involved humans I didn't know.

Mortals die every day.

"So you haven't turned to the good side yet? What a shame, I felt like destroying someone."

"James, I am a god. Even if you are truly and extraordinary specimen, you are just a human. Mortal and incredibly weak compared to me. My death is way beyond your reach" I stated, not completely believing it myself. Actually, I did not know the full extent of what he could do. But I wasn't afraid of him whatsoever.

"That would only make it more challenging. And I so very love challenges. Makes life less boring."

I was going to answer when his phone started ringing. It had a tune that sang: you're the light in my deepest, darkest hour, you're my saviour when I fall. I could hear that whole part because he picked it up and froze when he saw the caller's name.

Some seconds later his whole demeanour changed. His gaze softened, acquiring a kindness I had never seen on him. His posture relaxed, the aura around him that screamed evil criminal mastermind disappeared.

His personality, his whole identity seemed to have changed radically in a fraction of second.

He finally got up and excused himself; his voice much softer and ordinary. Not a single trace of that unconscious threatening and condescending tone in it.

I could still hear him, even if he went to another room. There was no use, I would be able to hear him even if he were in the next floor.

And the man talking didn't sound like Jim Moriarty at all.

"Hi" he greeted.

"Hello, James" said a sweet female voice on the other end. "How are you?"

"I'm fine, Molly." His voice sounded cracked. He was so obviously lying.

"Jim."

"It's OK. He's here, but he hasn't done anything." Even from where I was I could hear the unspoken yet at the end.

He? Who is James referring to with he? Is it me, or there's someone else in the apartment?

I quickly scanned the whole floor for forms of life that could count as he, or any form of life at all. Nothing.

Who was Moriarty referring to, then?

"Are you alright? He hasn't hurt you, has he?" asked the concerned voice.

"No he hasn't. You know he doesn't do that. Don't worry Molly."

"James, what are you doing now? I'll go over there, give me twenty minutes."

"No!" Moriarty shouted suddenly. It wasn't the kind of scream I was used to from him. It was almost desperate. "He has someone here. A guest. Don't come. Please. I'll handle this. I'll call you later. I love you."

"I love you too. Be careful."

After that she hung up, but Moriarty didn't return until some minutes later.

I was craving for information now. So, who is he? What had just happened to Jim? Was he acting? Was he not?

When he came back, he was still his other rather dull self.

"Are you going to tell me what that was about, James?" I wanted to know.

He looked up at me, momentarily confused.

"Uh… what did you want again? Sorry, I lost track."

Okay. Spooky. Way spookier than normal criminal psycho Jim Moriarty. At least I knew what to expect from that one… more or less. This was completely new. A total stranger in the skin of an evil genius. A new born I had to know all over again.

But this wasn't the first time to happen, or that Molly woman wouldn't have known who this new version of Jim Moriarty was.

Maybe a double life? Was he really that bored? Had a part of him settled or it was just a part of one of his plans? Was that female the victim or someone to reach them?

But what really struck me and convinced me that the man in front of me was no longer Moriarty was the fact that he didn't correct me when I called him James.

Jim Moriarty always corrected me when I called him James.

So I chose to play innocent and ignorant.

"I just want to stay for a while. I have nowhere to go" That dramatic touch wouldn't have worked with Jim in a million years. Time to bet.

James —this man was James and the evil one Jim, as far as I was concerned— looked down and then up, debating with himself. He lowered his gaze to rest on something behind me. He bit his lips indecisively and swallowed. After sighing and running a hand through his hair, it seemed like he had made up his mind.

"You can stay. But no killing or blackmailing or torturing or anything while you are here. Or I'll kick you out" James agreed.

I grinned and nodded, but didn't say a thing. I was too busy trying to figure out what had happened to him, who was this Molly. If she were just part of a game he would have reverted to his usual self after hanging up the telephone.

It had to be something else.

And I was determined to unravel the mystery.