My first 221Bx5! Prompted by Aleine Skyfire.

Night has long since fallen over my beloved London, but the darkness is not the friend and ally it once was to me. Every shadow in the street below seems to my fevered imagination – I, the consummate logician! – to hold the most unspeakable horrors... which is no doubt due to him.

I dread his coming, shrink from it with every fibre of my being, yet I am determined that he shall not have the satisfaction of seeing me cower before him like the poor, mindless wretches he commands – I am no servant or slave of his, death would be infinitely preferable to such a fate.

Although the gas lamps do not flicker, the sitting room seems to grow steadily darker, the hair raising on the back of my neck... Still facing the window, I grip the sill bracingly and speak aloud, praying my voice will not quaver. "Pray take a seat, Moriarty. It is most fortunate that you find me at home this evening."

"Fortunate, indeed." The words are pleasant enough, but the dry, leathery voice makes me infinitely thankful for the comforting weight in my coat sleeve. "Although perhaps not entirely unexpected."

No footsteps sound, yet I suddenly sense his loathsome presence directly behind me. Dear God, give me strength! I shall not turn yet, I shall not! "I can spare you five minutes, Moriarty, if you have anything to say."

His soft chuckle makes my flesh crawl. "My dear Mr. Holmes, surely all that I have to say has already crossed your mind."

"Then possibly my answer has crossed yours." My pulse is thundering in my own ears, how loud must it be to him?

"You stand fast?" Every 's' is becoming more sibilant, and I cannot help thinking of Dr. Roylott's viper... but the terror I knew that dreadful night at Stoke Moran was of an earthly creature, and its kiss, although deadly, was no threat to one's immortal soul.

"Absolutely."

A faint rustle of movement has me releasing the sill and allowing Mrs. Hudson's rosary to fall into my hand, but to my immeasurable relief, my guest's voice next sounds beside the fireplace. "You must drop it, Mr. Holmes." The tone is repulsively condescending. "You really must, you know."

Thank heaven, at last I may turn, look upon my nemesis and he upon me for the first time since we became aware of each other, all those years ago. He stands erect before the leaping flames, taller and thinner even than I, his white, aquiline features still more hawklike in the shadows he almost seems to wrap around himself. His forehead is highly domed, as I would expect from one of his immense intellect; his sunken eyes are fixed upon me with equal curiosity, pointed white teeth showing in what I can only assume is a smile.

"Like so many before you, you thought to play your wits against mine – I, who have intrigued with the courts of Europe centuries before you were born. You should have kept your energies for use closer to home. Before long, you will know in full what it is to cross my path, should you continue on this course."

I force myself to stand straighter. "Danger is part of my trade."

"That is not danger, Mr. Holmes," he replies softly, thin red lips curling into a sneer. "It is inevitable destruction. You and all who think to baffle me are mere cattle – you must stand clear, or face the butcher's knife."

To my astonishment, fear is rapidly being overtaken by anger. All this time I have had the profoundest respect for a worthy opponent, yet it seems he has not held the same view of me, far from it... and that growing sense of ire gives me the last ounce of courage I have lacked. "Well, my dear Count, this has been a most pleasant conversation, but I fear I am now neglecting other business of greater importance."

He hisses in fury, demonic features contorted, eyes blazing hellfire... it is all I can do keep from flinching, yet he makes no other move. It seems his only purpose in coming here tonight was merely to warn me. Nevertheless, I grasp the string of beads in my hand a little tighter as I turn my back on him once again, unable to keep my gaze from flickering to where the enraged creature's reflection ought to be in the glass.

"You think you have frustrated me, detective," he snarls, "but my revenge is just begun! I spread it over centuries, and time is on my side. The ones that you love shall soon be mine, and through them you and others shall yet be mine – my creatures, to do my bidding and to be my jackals when I wish to feed!"

A frozen hand seems to clutch at my heart at his words, but I will not be drawn. He is bluffing, surely; everyone he could conceivably use against me has been sent away – even Watson, despite his dogged refusals, for his wife is now blessedly with child, and his family have far greater need of him than I.

I cannot keep from starting as his voice purrs once more at my shoulder. "Your effrontery is most amusing, little detective, but it will not save you in future. Should you attempt to bring destruction upon me, rest assured that I shall do as much to you."

I try not to shudder at the venom infusing every soft syllable, taking a deep breath. "You have paid me several compliments, my dear Count. Allow me to pay you one in return." And then I am whirling back around to face him, thrusting the rosary out in front of me... but my noble guest has departed as quickly as he arrived, and that cursed darkness with him, the sitting room as well lit as ever.

My legs fail me at last, and I fall into the chair at Watson's writing desk, putting shaking hands over my face. Thank God, it is over, and I am still alive. He will not return tonight, but there is precious little time to act before tomorrow evening – and it is horribly apparent that I have sorely underestimated the toll that confronting this monster would have upon me. My cursed arrogance, believing I could face him alone... but I am alone, and the tide of evil marches on inexorably – God help me! Yet like mad Canute, I will stand before it and order it to halt, for if I were assured of Count Moriarty's destruction, I would cheerfully accept my own.

So may it be.