Present day but 6 weeks earlier.
As Anthea pushed open the door to Mycroft Holmes' office, she noticed that the man had his head in his hands. She hesitated a moment, trying to decide whether to go back out and come back later, but the moment was broken when Mycroft lifted his head.
"Ah, Anthea." he nodded, waving a hand to beckon the young lady inside, "What is it?"
He sat himself straight in his chair, instantly becoming the cold, expressionless face that the world saw when they looked at Mycroft Holmes.
Anthea approached cautiously, chewing on her bottom lip.
"Sir," he said, almost changing her mind about speaking at all, "Sir, is everything OK?"
Mycroft sighed. Anthea had worked for him for nearly 10 years, since she was just a teenage apprentice. She knew him well enough to be able to tell when something was wrong, as well as knowing when to leave things alone. She had proven herself to be utterly dedicated and trustworthy many times over recent years, and Mycroft wondered, for a minute, whether he should share a little more information this time.
"You first." he motioned for Anthea to sit and leaned forwards, resting his chin onto his steepled fingers.
"Right." she began, taking the chair opposite and opening a folder onto the desk between them. "You asked me to notify you if there was ever any mention of a man called Jim Moriarty?" She flipped the folder open to a page partway through and turned it to face her boss.
"CCTV recorded this close to New Scotland Yard this morning. I have de-briefed the operator and the tape is temporarily..." she stopped a minute, licking her lips as Mycroft pulled the file forwards to look closer at the image, "... I ensured that the tape was temporarily 'lost', but I do believe that this is the man you asked about?"
She nervously watched Mycroft as he stared at the photo, running his fingers along the image. She could see the visible effect that this man had on her boss. She didn't know what history lay between the two men, but it was clear to her that there was one.
She thought back to one particular incident when Moriarty had appeared on their radar. Anthea had been alerted by one of their CCTV operators that Jim Moriarty had been spotted very near to Mycroft's home. She had called him in the middle of the night and he had arranged for a car to collect her and bring her over. As Mycroft had answered the door to the sophisticated London home, he looked visibly pale and shaken. Anthea had entered, along with extra security, and she had ended up spending the rest of the night and half of the following day cautiously tending to Mycroft's needs. He had been quiet and withdrawn, and it was only later that day that he had gradually seemed to come back to himself. Her boss had never explained to her why the man affected him so much, and Anthea had never asked. It was her job to ensure that his job ran smoothly. If that involved keeping tabs on Jim Moriarty and making him disappear, on the occasions he came up on their radar, then so be it.
"Can I get you a drink, sir?" she asked, concern flooding her features as Mycroft struggled to maintain his composure. Mycroft nodded, and Anthea stood, crossing to the expensive drinks cabinet and pouring a generous measure of expensive Scotch.
Mycroft took the drink, downing half of it before swallowing hard to speak.
"There have been no sighting of him apart from this one?"
Anthea shook her head. "No, sir. None before or since. It's almost as if he wanted this camera to catch him." The end of her sentence became hesitant again.
Mycroft looked again at the image. It certainly did look that way. Jim Moriarty had rarely appeared on CCTV over the past 10 years. Usually, Mycroft only had to make the occasional implication disappear. A file lost; a name dropped; a court case dismissed. The man himself was almost like a ghost; a myth; a superstition; a "Keyser Soze". It was far more difficult to make actual sightings vanish. Fortunately, they were few and far between, but when they did occur, they were usually the precursor to something bad. Something very bad.
"Thank you, Anthea." he finally spoke after finishing the Scotch and placing the empty glass down with a long sigh. "Please keep me posted."
Present Day
Jim dropped his head to hide the smile at Mycroft's seemingly innocuous question. He knew it was absolutely the last thing that the man had wanted to ask yet, from the moment that Mycroft Holmes had set foot into that interrogation room, it was the only thing that needed to be said.
Jim had a plan, of course. He always had a plan. A plan that would see him released on a technicality just hours before Counter Terrorism even arrived in the morning. He never needed Mycroft's involvement. He had never really needed it. Jim Moriarty was resourceful, and his resources ran deeper and dirtier even than those of the British Government.
He also knew however, that when it got down to the wire, Mycroft Holmes would eventually appear in that interrogation room and ultimately offer him anything. Anything to ensure that he kept quiet; that the Holmes brothers' secret was safe.
It was beautiful. Predictable, but beautiful nonetheless.
Jim raised his head again slowly, the evil and calculating smile sweeping broadly across his battered and bloodied face.
"I think, Mycroft, that you know exactly what it is that I want."