— iii. excitement.

Instead of a gleaming Christmas tree, brown cardboard boxes were stacked in the center of the living room. There was just no time for Christmas decorations. After all, Khalista had to move into the soon-to-be cozy house in Northaw. It would have been a lot more convenient to move directly to London, but she would rather drive half an hour than to live inside a busy city full of irritating people.

Finding the house was mere luck. It was furnished to an extent, its old owners left everything that wasn't a necessity, like dusty side boards and old bookshelves filled with—to some people—useless literature.

The first thing that she did was getting a proper kitchen and dining table. Both were merged with the living room, open concepts were on the rise again. She didn't really care about the concept, more about seeing her glorious kitchen more often. Cooking was always the best part about her day and on Christmas Eve, Khalista was in paradise. Her cooking was comparable to magic, the only problem was that she was, unfortunately, only cooking for one person. Her feasts could have been even better on a big dining table.

The next thing was music. Having her grand piano and cello shipped from her previous residence in Austria to her current lot cost her a fortune, but it was worth it. To her, every room was empty without a piano in it. Admittedly, she didn't play a lot anymore, but that is why she invested in a good sound system. She couldn't fill the house with music by herself every day, so she had to find a different solution: modern technology. It sure didn't have the same charm though.

With precision comparable to a surgeon, Khalista placed several rosemary twigs, a mix of nuts and small potatoes around the fresh deer's back before placing the baking tray into the oven. Tchaikovsky's 'None But the Lonely Heart' hauntingly echoed through the living room—she felt as if the music was mocking her. Maybe she should have accepted Mycroft's offer and celebrated Christmas with him. Now she was brooding alone, as always. But being alone didn't stop her from dressing up nicely.

Just as she finished putting away the many spices and herbs into one of the dark wood cupboards, the ringing of her doorbell disrupted the tragic melodies. A small smile crept onto her face, expecting her brother. Khalista turned to the door and opened it quickly, only to realize that it wasn't Mycroft.

She was looking into the abyss. The man in front of her smiled devilishly as he tried to step through the door, but Khalista abruptly closed it again. Something seemed to block the doorframe and as she looked down, she saw what was causing the door not to close—a black patent-leather shoe.

While clenching her jaw, she opened it again. The man slithered through the smallest gap to finally enter the house.

"Have you looked at the calendar by any chance?" Khalista asked calmly. She knew who he had to be.

His eyes appeared to be black in the dim light of her living room as he curiously scanned every inch of his surroundings. "Certainly, but your sister said you would be free tonight."

"What else did she say?"

"That you are my Christmas present and that I should start by unwrapping you." His wicked smile broadened as his eyes focused on her.

Khalista stepped closer to him, evidently gazing over his whole body. "I doubt she said that."

"Yeah okay, the unwrapping part was a little exaggerated," he chuckled. "I am James Moriarty, but please, call me Jim."

Slowly, the dark-haired woman started to circle around him like a preying panther. She got dangerously close, even for Jim's taste. "Exquisitely tailored," she whispered to herself as she analyzed every single seam that adorned his anthracite suit. Her warm breath that brushed against his neck sent shivers down his spine as she continued to finish her round, yet, he stayed as still as a marble statuette.

After she stood in front of him again, they locked eyes. Khalista raised her chin to assert as much dominance as possible. Thanks to her high heels, she was just a tad bit taller than him.

"And what is your name?"

"You don't know?"

"She didn't tell me. Actually, it seemed like she was avoiding to say it."

Khalista sneered amusedly. Typical, she thought. "My name is…" She leaned in closer as Jim slowly closed his eyes. "Kha—" It was only one syllable, but she elongated it to its maximum. "—lista."

The echo of her hypnotic voice lingered in his ear for a little longer before he opened his eyes again, nodding blissfully. Nonchalantly, Jim distanced himself again, roaming through her living room. It seemed like he was especially interested in the cardboard boxes.

He inspected them thoroughly, then turned to the big cupboards made out of sturdy dark wood. His finger slid along the dusty panels before opening each empty compartment.

Khalista just watched his every move. "What are you looking for?"

"Anything, really."

"Anything?"

"None of these boxes have been opened, except for one. There has to be something here…"

"Aspiring to be a detective like my little brother, yes?"

"Oh please, I'm better," he snarked before pulling a black box out of the last compartment. Carefully, he placed it on the dining table and curiously looked at her. "This is definitely valuable to you, don't you want to stop me from looking inside?"

"I don't mind, go ahead."

Jim opened the lid and peeked inside. His lacking smile indicated that he was expecting something else. Warily, he picked up the stack of photos and went through each and every one of them. He couldn't help but wonder why she had a box filled with photos of only herself. They were rather old, seemingly from her youth. It had to be important to her, after all, it was the only thing that she tucked away, leaving every other thing untouched. As he had come to the last few photos, a triumphant smile finally adorned his face. "Steamy," he sneered as he inspected the photographs that depicted her only wearing underwear while playfully handling a Union Jack flag.

"You see, that's why you aren't better than him. Sherlock would know why I keep these." She could see how his jaw tightened in anger at her comparison.

"Give me a hint."

"It's not about who is in front of the camera."

"Then it's more boring than I thought."

"Sorry," she said, putting the lid on the box again. "Would you mind if I made up for this disappointment with a drink?"

"No, not at all."

With a smile, she went behind her kitchen counter and got two whiskey glasses out of the cupboard. "Maybe we can stop playing then and start talking about why Eurus brought us together."

"She didn't tell me much, the only thing she said is that you would do anything for me if I just asked nice enough and that I shouldn't sleep on this opportunity. She thinks very highly of your abilities."

"Well, except for the last part, that definitely sounds like her."

"So," he sang, stepping closer to the counter. "Would you do anything for me?" His voice got a little higher than usual.

After pouring the amber liquid into the two glasses, Khalista looked up again to analyze his face. It was nearly quivering with excitement. "Not anything, but most things, yes. That only applies to activities that involve the game with my brother, of course."

"Why would you be against him? Didn't he let you play with his toys?" His mischievous sneer conveyed a sexual innuendo that left Khalista sick to her stomach.

"I just like to watch him solve crimes. It makes me proud."

"You do know that I am going to destroy him?"

For a moment, she left the glasses on the counter and stepped closer to him. "No. That's why I am here. I'll be honest with you, Mr. Moriarty. I am not on your side. If his life is in danger at one point in this game, I will make sure that nothing ever happens to him."

"I'm afraid you won't." His hand wandered towards the inside of his jacket, slowly pulling out a silver 9mm Beretta. Gracefully, he aimed it at her head.

Because you had to wait so long for the last one I'm publishing this early, hope you enjoy!