James looked in the mirror. His suit was rumpled, there was dust on his side and pant legs. The button at the end of his left sleeve had ripped. He made a mental note to have this suit taken to the cleaners some time in the future. He heard a sharp intake of breath from the garage, Sebastian was cleaning Sue's wound. She would be staying in the guest room until Moriarty could think of something fun. He mused some more about selling her, or playing a game with Sherlock; Sebastian's birthday was next month and his room was so spartan, a nice, personalized art piece would spruce the place up. Maybe.

He looked at his eyes, they were squinted and red. He hadn't slept since Tuesday, things to do, plans to make, governments to manipulate. His hand reached into his pocket to extract the memory card. His lips formed a smile. He had dreamed of this day since he was a child, the reality of it becoming clearer and clearer with every episode. Moriarty only really became serious about it when Donna forgot. His favorite companion, not killed off, not sent to an alternate universe, sentenced to a fate worse than death and death is what Moriarty swore on when he put a foot on the coffee table and took an oath to destroy Moffat. Sebastian was skeptical until fairly recently, when his theory about River Song was disproved. After that he was almost as zealous as James.
The plan didn't fall together perfectly but that didn't matter now, they had accomplished their goal. He was too excited to sleep, even though his body screamed for it. He went into his room and opened his laptop. It started up and requested a password "Vi Veri Veniversum Vivus Vici"
By the power of truth, I, while living, have conquered the universe he thought. He pushed in the card and opened the files. Sebastian walked in as he looked at the first image "She wasn't actually shot," said Moran "the bullet grazed right below her wrist. It shouldn't be a problem." James continued to gaze at the photo "That's what that room looks like then." he sat on the edge of another chair "That's where it all happens." Moriarty zoomed in on the whiteboard. Red marker titled it "Warhero", possible episode title. Beneath it was a sticky note that said "CHRISTMAS? ? ? ? ?" Sebastian pointed to it "Does this mean our next episode will come Christmas time?" James considered "Five question marks on a sticky note on a whiteboard, that's unsure as something could possibly be. I doubt it." From what could be gathered from the rest of the board, The Doctor would travel to Victorian London where he would befriend a cute blonde nurse. Lame. There were bodies disappearing from the hospital ... the head surgeon performing unnecessary medicine ... the duo investigates ... the head surgeon is actually an alien. Shocker. The Doctor sonics something and the alien disintegrates. "Wow that's original." James says dryly. There were other sections of the board devoted to ideas, for or inspired by the episode. "Chameleon Circuit fully repaired/operational" was written in blue and scribbled out over in green. Of course it was crossed out, they couldn't fix the Chameleon Circuit, it would ruin a classic aspect of the show. "I will find whoever's stupid idea that was and give them cancer." his eyes scanned the table and found that same handwriting on a notepad in front of the chair where the idiot sat; the name Vince H. was in the upper right hand corner of several pages around it. He whipped out his phone and searched the name in the BBC staff registry, Vince Hillman, another search retrieved his address. He handed the phone to Moran "Sebastian, would you call one of Mike's boys and tell them to stuff every chair, couch, and pillow in Mr. Hillman's home with asbestos before the end of the week?" he took the phone and walked out into the kitchen as he dialed.
James rubbed his eyes and yawned. He left the laptop up for Sebastian and went on to bed.

James woke up the following day at eleven, the sun reaching an angle where is shone through the gap in his curtains onto his face. He got up and dressed, having nowhere to be, jeans and a T shirt would do for today. He went out into the kitchen, Sebastian had left out some sausage and a tray of biscuits. He also had a bunch of print outs of the Doctor Who photos all over the table, zoomed in on various sheets of paper and drawings on napkins. He'd obviously been going through them all night, writing in a notebook he had out. There was a note folded into a tent that read "Out running errands - be back round three. - Seb ". Moriarty made a cup of coffee and sat down with a biscuit, he shuffled through the papers on top. A printed document describing how the alien in the hospital ingested the organs of the corpses it took. There was a drawing on a napkin, it looked like a skinny caterpillar with huge teeth and a rhinoceros horn. James threw it aside and picked up Moran's notes. "Possible twelfth doctors" a list of thirty or so actors followed, several of them crossed out, including Alan Rickman, with a sad face beside it. Further through the pages were revised Master theories and observations regarding the personality pattern of companions since the fourth doctor and their overhaul since nine. James highlighted a few phrases from photos of what he deduced as Mark T. Davis' binder, regarding the Tardis' relation to the companions. Moriarty decided that the next companion would be a single character rather than a pair just as he turned the page and saw Moran had reached the same conclusion.
There was the sound of a toilet flush, James remembered he wasn't alone in the house.

He left the note book on the table and walked upstairs to the guest room, he knocked on the door. "What?" was her reply "May I come in?" a beat passed "Ok." He unlocked the door and opened it. Sue was sitting on the bed, still in her chefs uniform, gauze wrapped around her arm. "Are you James Moriarty?" the question threw him off guard "...Yes." she looked at him, scrutinizing. "You killed my physics teacher, from secondary school." He narrowed his eyes, confused. "I've killed a lot of people, I don't know about your physics teacher.", she gestured towards the desk on the opposite wall, on it was a table lamp, a mug with some pens, and a scrapbook; a Christmas present from Sebastian two years ago, it documented their favorite thefts and murders. "On the inside cover it says 'James Moriarty & Sebastian Moran'. Her picture is inside, you shot her when she tried to stop you and your friend escaping from a grocery store robbery." she got up and flipped to the page. There were black and white security camera pictures, showing Moran pushing a cart containing James along with several cases of oreos. The only other person visible in the photos was a woman standing by the produce. The next snapshot showed her arm out and a pineapple on it's way towards the cart. The next had her on the ground, Moriarty's arm extended, holding a gun. There was a little description by Moran, he titled the page "Oreo Run". Under it was a newspaper cut out from the obituaries. "Margret Hughes, 1958 - 2011." the little blip mentioned her husband, teaching career, and love of cats. James looked at the page and recalled the incident.
"Your physics teacher threw a pineapple at me." he cocked his head "That was hurtful.".

"You're some sort of master criminal," she flipped some more pages, "This isn't petty crime." she paused at a page with Sebastian and James flipping off a red light camera, both driving Koenigseggs. Moriarty was silent as she continued. She pointed at one titled "A Day at the National Museum of History" there he was taking picture in a public bathroom mirror with his phone, wearing an actual Egyptian headdress and holding a golden pharaoh's bust. She flipped through pictures of Moran taking credit for impressive long-distance assassinations, Moriarty posing with dead bodies, screencaps of official government websites with gay porn all over them, articles from newspapers describing elaborate art thefts, and anything else she could think of.

"Why have I never seen your name or picture on the news?" "I do my best to avoid the paparazzi." "This book is sick." She closed it and sat back down. "What the hell do you want with me? You got out of the studio, God knows what evil little scheme you had going there, why am I still here? Are you planning on killing me, having me taxidermied and sending me in a box to my parents like you did that zookeeper?" She sounded angry but she spoke too quickly to not be scared. "Is this room where you keep your victims until you butcher them, or is it for family members when they visit?" Her fear was expected but her bitterness stopped him from thinking it was funny. He frowned and looked at her. She returned his gaze, for the first time his eyes met hers; her cold expression held him, he was unable to advert his gaze, until she coughed and the moment was over. He took his hands out of his pockets and stopped himself from fixing a bit of her hair that was sticking out. "I won't be taking you to a taxidermist.". She feigned relief. "Have you eaten?" James asked. "No." He opened the door, "You can have something from the table." he walked out, leaving the door open behind him "If you try to escape the house, you will be killed.".