Sebastian pulled the van up at the curb of the sandwich shop. He looked over at James, coolly, a single glance asking for the final go-ahead with the plan. James nodded and opened his door, putting on a pair of white gloves as he closes it behind him. Col. Sebastian Moran moved into the back of the van, opening a laptop and putting on a headset; tech was not his specialty but he was able to access the BBC studio's security system with relative ease. It was nine o'clock. A quick skim through the security camera's feeds verified that there were only five or six people in the entire building, none of them near their target.
James opened the back door and picked up the case, Sebastian signaled for him to go.
James Moriarty walked around the corner of the block and approached the studio's main entrance. He glanced up at the cameras around the building, wiggling his fingers at Sebastian through them. He opened the door and walked into the foyer area, there was one rent-a-cop security guard at a reception desk to the right. He looked dazed. Moriarty continued walking on, "Excuse me, sir, but no one is allowed past here without proper clearance.". James stopped and set down his case. He giggled and reached into his suit jacket, pulling out a Kimber .45, two quick swips rang in the empty hall as he shot the man twice in the chest. He fell forward but didn't hit the desk, Moriarty waltzed over and pushed him back into his swivel chair, snatching his keys and access card as he did. He tossed the keys up a few times as he looked at the directory on the wall. The Doctor Who writing room was in the northeast corner of the third floor. Picking up his case he walked right past the desk. Using the guard's access card, James got into the express elevator and pushed three. The doors closed and he rode up listening to some sort of bossa nova composition. He made a face, it was appalling to say the least. The elevator arrived that the third floor and James walked out at a casual pace, going down the hallway and through another until he reached the writers room. He tried three different keys until the found the correct one, the door opened softly. James flicked the switch on the wall and florescent light flooded the room. There was the writers table, papers still sprawled out, manilla folders labeled "Amy", "Donna", and "Sally Sparrow" were among them. A white board covered in what was surely Mark Gatiss' own hand, little sticky notes and papers and magnets displayed endless plot and character ideas. James' heart fluttered in his chest. He turned around to look at a security camera and danced in front of it. But he was here for business. He straightened his coat and walked in.
Setting the case on an unoccupied chair he began his work. Inside the case was a very special camera, stolen from a professional photographer last week just for this job. He set up the tripod and first photographed the whiteboard, every speck of detail would be captured; they could read and examine every word without disturbing a single paper. Documenting the rest of the room took nearly twenty minutes of straightening out papers and putting them back exactly how they were. James remembered precisely how everything was arranged, and overlooked no detail with his camera. Any word in this room could be the key to season seven, or the next Doctor, nothing could be left out. A quick glance around the room told Moriarty that there were often about five people here at a time, the way the chairs faced each other and the board, the impressions they left in the carpet, the amount of coffee cups in the garbage bin, the way the papers lay. The same visual inspection told him he had finished his task, and he quickly put away the camera in its case.
He turned off the lights and locked the door behind him, throwing a quick look at the security camera. It rotated, Sebastian was trying to tell him something. James went quickly to the elevator and swiped the card. It didn't accept it. Something was wrong. Moriarty hastily unzipped the bag and pulled out the camera's memory card, pocketed it, then put the bag in a garbage bin. He ran down the other hallway to the stairwell, on the opposite wall was a digital marquee; Sebastian was still in the system, it read "LESTRADE IS HERE - USE STAIRS TO 1ST FLOOR - OUT KITCHEN - EMERGENCY EXIT - LOADING DOCK" James ran down the steps to the first floor and opened the door. Flashing lights were visible through the windows and he could hear the sirens. They were surrounding the building, he needed to move quickly. Dashing through the kitchens swinging double doors James frantically looked around for the emergency exit. Suddenly the doors behind him burst open and police jumped in, guns in hand, yelling "Down on your knees!". Moriarty dropped and skidded towards a rack of dishes, ducking behind them. He looked around for a way out, anything. Two shots were fired, shattering a few plates to his right. He kept moving, the police still shooting, he took out his own gun and fired a few shots around a counter. He heard two shouts and a scream. The shouts were from men he hit, the scream was from beside a fridge. Apparently someone was still working here, a woman. Moriarty lunged towards her grabbing her by the waist as he stood up, keeping himself behind her. The police stopped firing, James and his hostage made their way to the emergency exit quickly. The police were still right behind him, he dragged the woman along, past the dumpsters and immediately to the loading dock where Sebastian had the back of the van already open. He pushed the woman inside and jumped in, shutting the doors behind him. Policemen were already on the loading dock. Sebastian sped off, bullet proof glass protecting him from several well placed shots. Handling the vehicle like a pro, Sebastian maneuvered the van down the ramp and onto the street.
Lights flashed and sirens sounded, James counted four cars after them, matching their speed. Sebastian turned sharply at a light, forcing Moriarty into the hostage. He shoved her off and made his way into the passenger seat, Sebastian weaved around traffic, narrowly avoiding clipping a car on its side. The police car directly behind them didn't have such luck, it was sent spinning into the other lane; the other cars stopping to avoid hitting it. One cop car got caught up in the congestion, the other two still pursued them. James reached behind his seat and pulled out Moran's Browning Hi-Power, he rolled down the window and leaned out the side. He fired twice, hitting the front car's right side mirror off. He repositioned himself and fired again, hitting the windshield on the drivers side. The car swerved but continued to follow them; the passenger had his gun out the window and returned fire. He hit the back of the van, Sebastian turned sharply, the wheels on the left nearly lifting off the ground. Moran took the van right over a roundabout then immediately left, the police cars now in front of him. He spun the van back expertly, their pursuers still trying to turn around. Sebastian drove into a plaza, past two stores and turning into a corridor of shops. The two police cars now further behind them, but still giving chase. James puts his arm out the window again and fires at the corners of a grand opening banner. Four shots, four hits; the banner falls down directly on their windshield. As James turns back around in his seat he hears the crash. In the rear-view mirror he sees both cars smashed with smoke rising from the accident. Sebastian gently brings the van to an easy speed, the remaining drive to the house is uneventful, both men thinking in silence.
Moran hit the door opener and pulled into the garage. It shut behind them as they exited the van. They looked at each other. James broke the silence. "We did it!". A smile broke across his face and he jumped in excitement. "We have. In our possession. Every Doctor Who secret." Sebastian smirked. Moriarty took the memory card out of his pocket to admire "Even with Sherlock, sending Lestrade to rain on our parade, we got away with it. Sebastian, my friend, we've got Moffat by the balls." Moran went to the back of the van and opened it. The woman was still there, clutching her left forearm. Blood dripped from between her fingers. Sebastian considered her indifferently, "What should we do with her?".
James looked at her. She was wearing a black chef's uniform. Her forehead was damp with sweat, her short brown hair clung to it. She looked more misanthropic than frightened, but she was frightened; he can see it in their eyes, before he hurts them, he knows that look. He considered the shoe approach but her skin was too light to go with any of his outfits. They could just shoot her and dump her somewhere but he didn't feel like going out again and he really didn't want a body in his garage overnight, the flies would be around for weeks. His mind threw around possible solutions to her but none seemed appealing. "What's your name?" he asked. "Sue." she replied.
He glanced over at Moran, he shrugged his unconcern. "Well, Sue, you are going to stay in a room here until we decide what we're going to do with you." She glared at him. "What's with your arm?" Sebastian asks. She looks at him coldly, "The police shot me while your boyfriend here was abducting me.". James sighed, annoyed. "Let me see." She took her hand off the arm and extended it. With the other hand she reached behind her and struck him on the head with a wooden spoon. "ASSHOLE!" she yelled, she threw the spoon at him when he backed away, keeping a hand over where she hit him. Moran remained motionless. Moriarty stared at her, seething with frustration, still bleeding, sitting in the back of the van. "Sebastian," he said calmly "Tend to the madam, please." He walked to the door to the house and went in. Moran was allowed to touch her arm. "You can call him James."
