Sunlight poured through the crack in the dark curtains of Mycroft's bedroom, shining in his eyes and disturbing him from his deep, satisftying sleep. His king-sized bed seemed to be unusually warm as he stirred beneath his comforter. He shifted his weight to his left side and turned to look at the other half of his bed, surprised that the space was empty. Only hours ago, it was occupied by the man he had met at the bar the night before.

Mycroft rubbed his eyes and swung his legs down off the bed. He rummaged around on the floor and managed to find his pants, carelessly discarded the previous night. He noticed the man's clothes were absent. He was hopeful that he might find him as he sauntered into the kitchen, but he knew he shouldn't be. It was better if the man had left without a trace so Myrcoft didn't have any loose ends to tie up. He hadn't even gotten the man's name. No, it was better this way. He got the distraction he needed, his mind was clear, and he felt more prepared to deal with the troubles that lay before him.

Although, he wasn't sure that he should completely rule out sexual activity as this type of stress reliever. Maybe it was just that he hadn't taken part in sex in several years, but last night was more than memorable. Nothing but pure, carnal lust. His mind had been clear of everything except for the drive for pleasure, and he had definitely attained it. It was apparent that both he and the man were of exceptional mind, and they were both so able to read what each other wanted. Mycroft knew both of them walked away from this deal more than satisfied.

He wasn't surprised when he didn't find his lover in the kitchen, or in the rest of his house for that matter. All the better. He began to prepare a small breakfast for himself, mind buzzing. He had already put the night before out of his mind, and his thoughts had almost immediately returned to his work.

He offhandedly snatched his favorite coffee cup from the counter and turned to fill it from the coffee maker, but slowly turned back when he saw something flutter to the floor out of the corner of his eye. He frowned in confusion and bent down to pick it up.

It was a small slip of paper, neatly folded in half. He unfolded it to reveal a phone number, written in tall, tight digits. Above it were three orderly letters:

Jim

So Mycroft hadn't gotten home free. He tried to tell himself that this wasn't a problem, but with all the stress he was going to have to go through in the coming weeks, he knew it wasn't good that the temptation was there. He turned to the trash can to get rid of that temptation, but at the last second he hesitated, tossing the slip of paper onto the counter to mingle with a plethora of various paperwork.

At that moment, Jim Moriarty crooked his lips into a smile, with a gut feeling that his plan was going swimmingly.

The fly wriggled, but try as it might, it was hopelessly stuck in the spider's web.