Ayy, it's chapter four :D I really loved writing the conversations between Moriarty and Clara in this chappie :D

Wow thank you all so so much for the amazing reviews! You guys are so amazing and ily all omg! I would've updated sooner but I was forced to socialise for a few days ugh. What were my parents thinking, allowing me to make friends. I'm like Sherlock and Mycroft, only not smart.

So anyway, enjoy this chappie and click on that button down there, ya see it? Yup, the one that says REVIEW! Because I really want you to ;) Review, that is. Anways, enjoy!

Clara's sleep that night was far from restful, and she had the common misfortune of someone who had just endured a night of incessant tossing and turning to awake groggy and more hopelessly confused than ever. She immediately put the kettle on as soon as she stumbled her way into the kitchen, knowing that a cup of coffee was the only thing right now that had any chance of guiding her mind through its foggy sleep-induced haze.

She had woken on time for once and was in no rush to get to work as she sipped her coffee delicately, pondering Jim Moriarty once more, the man she had spent most of last night thinking about instead of sleeping. She clutched her hands tighter around her hot beverage, his parting words from last night ringing in her ears.

"You might not like what you find."

She needed to find out who exactly he was. Criminal. The word kept bouncing around in her head, the cogs in her brain whirring as she turned over and over in her mind the information she knew about him, straining to fit the intricate pieces together in a way that would make sense. She didn't have enough information to finish the puzzle, she needed answers. 221B, Baker Street. That was where she needed to go.

Going about her morning routine of getting ready for work at a more leisurely pace than she usually had the privilege of undertaking, she hatched a solid plan to pay a visit to 221B as soon as the school day ended. A quick glance at the clock told her she was on the verge of running late again, all this overthinking was doing her punctuality no good.

"A quick trip in the Tardis to make sure I'm on time wouldn't go amiss," She grumbled wryly, making a mental note to stop talking to herself out loud. 'You know talking to yourself is considered the first sign of madness. Of course, I'm not an expert on the subject.'

Clara bit her lip to contain a rueful smile at her first memory of Jim as she rushed down the flights of stairs from her flat. The man certainly was something, and she found she quite liked him, though she knew she probably shouldn't. A nagging voice in the back of her head which she couldn't quite silence told her that he was dangerous company, but she found herself looking forward to their next meeting. Priorities, Clara. She was getting ahead of herself. Before she started getting any mad ideas, she needed to get to 221B and find out Jim Moriarty's story.

She rushed out onto the street and as a last minute decision, hailed a cab to take her to the school. She cursed inwardly as the first she saw whizzed past her. She wasn't going to risk being late again. She breathed a sigh of relief as the next cab slowed to a halt alongside her and clambered in gratefully.

"Coal Hill School please," She uttered breathlessly, slamming the door closed behind her.

"School? Hmmm, boring," The cabbie responded cheerfully in a sing song voice she knew all too well. "Why don't we take a detour?"

"Jim!" Clara yelped in shock but was soon unable to hide her grin at his sudden appearance. "What are you doing here? Why are you impersonating a cab driver?!"

"Oh you know, it's the day job for a consulting criminal," Jim replied dryly in a sarcastic tone. He cleared his throat almost sheepishly. "I... Borrowed it. Good way to travel unnoticed, isn't it?"

He flashed a grin in the review mirror. Clara gave a small chuckle, though his words seemed to imprint themselves into her brain in nauseating clarity. Consulting criminal?

"Consulting criminal?" Clara parroted back, quirking an eyebrow and trying to cover up the nervousness in her voice at the title. "Sounds like an interesting job."

"Want to find out how interesting it really is?" Jim glanced at her coyly, flashing a mischievous grin.

It was an exciting proposition, she had to admit. Clara chucked her bag into the front of the car beside Jim and clambered into the passenger seat beside him as he slowed down due to traffic. He raised an eyebrow at her daring move, but didn't comment. Clara grinned, putting on her seatbelt. She had no idea if Jim was a good driver or not, but wasn't going to bet that he was the best.

"Well, free cab ride, lucky me," She rolled back her shoulders with a satisfied smile as she settled into the comfy seat. "Where have you been all my life?"

"Waiting for you, obviously," Jim quipped back with a grin, and Clara laughed, forgetting for a moment that she was sitting beside quite possibly the most dangerous man in Britain. She narrowed her eyes at him suddenly, scrutinizing.

"You picked me up for a reason."

"Clever girl."

"Why?" Clara demanded playfully, curious as to his motives. Jim Moriarty shrugged.

"I was bored. I think we should do something illegal."

Clara blinked in surprise at his nonchalant tone.

"Wha- Something illegal?"

"Yes, I think that's what I said."

"I'm sorry did you say 'we'?"

"Your sense of hearing really is impeccable, Clara," Jim drawled, tapping the steering wheel with his nimble fingers. "I hope your seatbelt is fastened."

A small shriek of surprise was drawn from Clara's mouth as Jim suddenly pressed his foot down on the accelerator and thrust the wheel to the left, dodging out through the mostly stagnant traffic and driving recklessly through the streets of London. In precisely the exact opposite direction of the school.

"Jim!" Clara yelled, clutching the edges of her seat in fear, her jaw clenched tightly. "Slow down! I'd like to get to our destination in one piece!"

His terrible driving reminded her of a journey in the Tardis as it was being pulled off course. Only she realised that this was a lot more dangerous, to herself and Jim and to the unfortunate pedestrians. Surprisingly, even though his driving was completely diabolical, it seemed to make sense out of the chaos, and Jim seemed to know what he was doing.

"The story of the fiery companion who forgot," Jim ignored Clara's request completely with a small smirk. "Heard of that one? It's another tale I have the... Privilege of knowing."

"Nope, haven't heard that one," Clara squeaked, casting Jim a wide eyed stare as he narrowly avoided crashing into a telephone pole. "Care to enlighten me? With a bit less speed on the wheels?!"

"Oh, Clara," Jim tutted mockingly. "Don't be ordinary. Why drive a car if you're not going to work it to its full potential?"

"If we die, I'm going to kill you," Clara ground out as Jim laughed at her joking threat.

"She was a fiery companion, inside and out," He continued brightly as if he wasn't speeding on a busy London footpath. "From her hair to her sharp, witty tongue. That's why he liked her, I suppose. She wasn't as ordinary as most, wasn't as boring. The way he saw it, anyway."

Clara nodded slowly, trying to ignore the jolt of her heart every time Moriarty turned the wheel and skidded round another bend just in time.

"She saw so much, did so much," Jim continued with a slight shake of his head. "But she became too great. In return for her life she became the Doctor Donna, she saved the world. But the story didn't end happily, oh no. It hardly ever does, with the Doctor."

Clara racked her brains, trying to remember if she recognised the name, but no memories resurfaced. She tried to concentrate on Jim Moriarty's soft yet intimidating voice as he told the story instead of fearing for her life at his careless driving skills.

"He made her forget," Jim stated bluntly, staring directly ahead at the winding London streets in front of them. "After all she did, all she saw, she would either have to die or forge- Oops!"

Clara gave a startled scream as Jim swerved at the last minute, dangerously close to hitting a wall. He gave a loud bark of a laugh and Clara practically growled.

"So, she forgot," He ended the short tale abruptly and brought the car to a skidding halt which would've sent Clara flying forwards had she not been wearing her seatbelt. She remained silent for a moment, her heart pounding in her chest after the terrifying ordeal that was driving shotgun in a car with Jim Moriarty.

"He- He never mentioned a Donna," She murmured breathlessly, straining to control her ragged breathing. "Now that I think of it, he doesn't really mention his past companions much at all."

"Story's over, let's crack on then, shall we?" Moriarty flashed Clara a mischievous grin and stepped out of the car. Clara exited the vehicle and took in their new surroundings. Her heart sank with sneaking suspicion as she realised that they were outside London's main bank.

"Jim," She began warily, quickening her pace to match his longer strides as he stalked towards the looming building. "You're not thinking what I think you're thinking, are you?"

"That depends entirely on what you're thinking, Clara," Jim smirked, reaching the tall double doors of the bank.

"I'm thinking back to when you said 'let's do something illegal'," Clara replied cautiously, her heart beginning to hammer in her chest.

"Just a bit of fun," Jim grinned in a slightly sinister fashion and ducked inside the building, leaving Clara with no choice but to follow.

The vast, circular room was full of bustling people pushing to form orderly queues, the low hum of conversation filling her ears as she walked further in. She gulped at the amount of security guards manning the place and wondered, not for the first time, if Moriarty really was absolutely insane.

"Now, the main thing we have to do here is get everyone out of the way," Jim's voice sounded suddenly in Clara's ear in a hushed whisper, making her jump. He grabbed her hand and led her to a more secluded part of the room.

"Take this."

Clara stared at the object Jim had just pressed into her hands with a frown.

"What's this?" She hissed in confusion, holding it up in front of her like it was something new to her, though as she studied it she unfortunately knew exactly what it was. The question she really should have asked was why.

"A gas mask," Jim scowled at her, taking her wrist gently but firmly and pulling it down so the mask was no longer in clear sight of everyone in the spacious room.

"What for?" Clara whispered hurriedly, casting her eyes around for suspicious guards.

"Oh keep up, Clara. Because of the gas," Was the muffled reply as Jim Moriarty stuffed his own gas mask onto his face. Clara's mind went blank and she rapidly did the same, not sure what else to do.

"What gas?" She retorted, her voice obscured by the barrier now covering her visage.

"This gas," Moriarty replied in a similar mumble, pointing lazily to the air around them. Clara whipped around the see multiple suspicious guards beginning to make their way towards them but they stopped in their tracks and began a fit of coughing. Clara watched in horror as everyone around them collapsed to the ground, lying motionless on the floor.

The next thing Clara registered through her shock was Jim Moriarty's cool hand as it slipped into hers and guided her across the room, behind the desks and into one of the doors that was clearly labelled "Staff Only".

As soon as the door was firmly shut behind them, Jim removed his gas mask with a loud laugh, a slightly manic look in his eyes.

"It's alright to breathe, Clara," He ran his hand through his dark hair with a grin. "The gas is slow moving and it was only a small burst, it shouldn't reach us in here."

"What the hell was all that about?" Clara burst out once she had ripped off her own gas mask, staring at Jim in shock. Panic welled up inside her chest.

"Hang on," Jim held up a finger to silence her, a look of concentration on his face. Clara's eyes widened in dread as she realised he was listening for the footsteps that were coming rapidly towards them, but Jim didn't look too perturbed. A man, clearly oblivious to what was going on outside opened a side door to the small room and entered. Shock registered on his face for a split second before Moriarty stepped up to him casually and sprayed a spurt of what Clara imagined to be the same gas only more concentrated directly into his face, causing him to collapse in a heap on the floor instantaneously. Clara guessed that he was the one who was supposed to be manning the computer and watching the multiple screens in the small room, seemingly having abandoned his post momentarily. He had definitely come back at the wrong moment.

Jim turned back to Clara with an expectant look on his seemingly innocent face.

"Sorry," He smiled brightly. "You were saying?"

"I- I," Clara spluttered. She was never usually lost for words, but she seemed to keep finding herself tongue tied in Jim Moriarty's presence. His antics never failed to surprise her. "What- Did you kill all those people?!"

"Why, would you be appalled if I did?" Moriarty smirked, leaning back against the nearest desk as he watched Clara's reaction with amusement.

"Well, no- Wait yes- Wait what?!"

Jim Moriarty laughed at her incredulous exclamation. Clara frowned and crossed her arms across her chest. He was finding the whole thing absolutely hilarious!

"Don't you worry your pretty little head," Jim smirked. "Of course I didn't kill them. That wouldn't do for a first date now, would it?"

Clara blinked in shock then felt the corners of her lips beginning to curve upwards in a little smile against her best wishes.

"This is a date then?" She couldn't help but grin cheekily, her stomach fluttering at his words despite the situation.

"If you want it to be," Jim winked, turning away and facing the nearest sleek shiny computer. "Come along now, Clara, this is where you make yourself useful."

"And this is where you tell me how those people aren't dead," Clara retorted, still feeling slightly suspicious. "Cause they look pretty dead to me."

"Unconscious," Jim paused to look at Clara then sighed exasperatedly, realising that she wouldn't help until he assured her that they were unharmed. "I already had nine gas taps installed around the main room, I activated them when we both had our masks on, and I turned them off again. The gas is slow moving, very concentrated, it causes the victim to lose consciousness for approximately thirty minutes so we've got to get moving. Here," He motioned to the computer screen in front of him.

Clara paused, then decided to trust his explanation, even if she didn't particularly like it. She sat down in front of the screen and glanced at the compilation of numbers dancing across it in strange sequences.

"What's all this?" She questioned warily, casting a glance up at Jim. She didn't know what he expected her to do with this jumble of information. She was no computer genius by any means. In fact, it was a rare occurrence when she was simply able to connect to wifi. God knows she had had a few bad experiences with it.

"Our ticket to opening the vaults," Jim responded with an easy grin, turning towards the side door that the unfortunate man lying unconscious on the floor had previously come out of.

"You're going to rob a bank?" Clara squealed, realising that she should have expected this but still not wanting to believe it.

"No, I just wanted to break in, render the majority of the staff unconscious, have a nice chat with the owner and leave. Of course we're going to rob the bank! What else would you do in a bank?!"

"Oh, I don't know, withdraw some money from your own account under legal terms?!" Clara spluttered, gaping at Jim's nonchalant manner in disapproval. "Wait- You said we're going to rob the bank?! You honestly think I'm going to help you with this? Oh, I don't think so, Mister Consulting Criminal!"

"Clara, don't back out on me now," Jim rolled his eyes with a pout. "Come on, it's harmless! Fifteen minutes and counting."

"But-"

"Three five five two," Jim flashed her another smile which made her breath catch in her throat as he disappeared through the door. "The codes for the main vault. Look at the cameras, I'll let you know when to tap them in."

"This is wrong, this is wrong, this is so wrong," Clara muttered, shaking her head with a groan as she cast her gaze back to the screen, trying to ignore the fact that there was a man lying unconscious on the ground beside her. She didn't want to rob a bank! But she knew she couldn't back out now, that would leave Jim in a dangerous position and she couldn't let that happen. She groaned again, looking to the security cameras on the wall beside her. Multiple screens hung side by side and she quickly located the black and white picture that housed Moriarty's form.

She watched him glide effortlessly down the corridors, gas mask on as people dropped to the ground around him left right and centre. She shook her head in disbelief. It's was so brilliantly evil. She watched him slip from screen to screen as he moved to and from each area of the bank. Her heart sunk when she realised where he was going.

"He's not going to... Oh my God," Clara breathed, leaning forward to see the screen more clearly. Jim Moriarty was making his way towards the biggest, most secure vault in the bank, the vault which housed more money than Clara could even begin to imagine.

She watched as he removed his gas mask, seemingly having reached an area where he hadn't installed any gas taps. Two guards stood with their backs to the main vault and they stirred when Jim stalked towards them. She winced as he issued a quick blow to the back of one guards' head and used the toxic gas from the small can to induce the other into a temporary coma-like state, successfully gaining access to the vault. He looked up at the camera, as if he was staring directly at Clara and winked with a grin.

Clara shook her head, a slow smile creeping across her face. He really was mad, but he was brilliant. She had never seen daylight robbery being done so efficiently.

She spun around to face the computer, biting her lip as she concentrated. At first the jumble of numbers on the screen made no sense to her, but she soon realised that Moriarty had subtly explained an easy way of working out the code for the vault he required access to.

"Three five five two," She murmured, finding the code which corresponded to each number and readying herself to use them to gain access to the vault.

She clicked on the tab, and clicked again to key in the password. She typed in the letters in a hurry, took a deep breath and entered the key. She gasped as she saw the vault opening on the screen, unable to believe that she had just helped a notorious criminal break into a bank.

She chewed her nails in nervous agitation as she waited for Jim, watching his every move on the cameras as he collected the money. There didn't seem to be much, she realised, as he threw the cash carelessly into a small bag, but she knew that the notes must each be worth more than she could imagine. Her breathing became rapid as she realised they probably didn't have much time left until the workers outside began to wake up and sense that something was wrong, but Jim didn't seem to be in any hurry.

She frowned and squinted at the small screen as Jim retrieved what looked to be a black marker from his pocket and proceeded to write on the shiny metal wall of the vault.

"Miss me?" Clara read the words aloud which he wrote on the wall in big bold letters with a smiley face drawn after it. It made no sense to her, and she made a mental note to question him about it later. Once she was done giving out to him for putting her through this, of course.

She tensed as he made his way back but he didn't run into anyone as they were all bloody unconscious, although she knew that once they woke it wouldn't take them long to figure out that the main, most secure vault in Britain had been broken into.

She felt a huge wave of relief wash over her as he burst into the room with a lively grin. He rushed to the computer, removed a chip from the hard drive and pocketed it without explanation, though Clara knew from the way the screens along the wall immediately went blank that it was the security camera history. He turned to Clara and smirked, taking her hand.

"Run."

Clara was led by the depraved psychopath through a different side door which she guessed must be an alternative way out, as leaving the way they came would attract too much attention. She almost had no time to enjoy the feeling of her hand in Jim's as they burst through a fire exit and ended up in the car park where they had first started.

"Oops, looks like they've realised the game is afoot," Moriarty grinned at the distant wailing of sirens, releasing Clara's hand and walking towards the car at a leisurely pace, unperturbed. Clara didn't reply but walked on ahead more quickly, eager to get to the car. She slipped inside quickly, unable to shake off the feeling of guilt, though it was at the moment well masked by a feeling of exhilaration at not getting caught. But she knew that she did not want to make a habit of this.

Jim drove just as recklessly as before, and Clara remembered to fasten her seatbelt right away.

"You're mad."

"But you had fun though."

"That's not the point-"

"That's always the point," Jim cast a sideways glance at her and smirked. "What's the problem? Everything went according to plan."

"That's exactly the problem!" Clara snapped.

"But we made a great team."

"Um, no we didn't! Money was stolen, people were knocked unconscious!"

"All the result of a job well done," Jim replied brightly, taking another sharp turn. Clara inhaled sharply at the swerve.

"Next date, can we not do something illegal?" She voiced shakily as Jim focused on the road, the bag of money lying discarded on the floor beside him.

"But where's the fun in that?" He smirked again, clearly elated. "Hang on, we have to make a stop."

Clara followed him out of the car which he parked rather untidily on the footpath, quickening her pace so that they were walking side by side along the bridge over the Thames.

Jim stopped at the centre of the bridge, taking the small chip full of security data from his pocket and studying it for a moment, twirling it around in his slender fingers.

"I suppose they'll be wanting this back," He mumbled with a light expression on his face. "Oh well."

He finished the sentence in a sing song tone and tossed the chip over the edge of the bridge where it was swallowed instantly by the large body of water below.

Clara stared, watching it fall in astonishment. She looked to Jim and gave a light, disbelieving laugh. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and grinned.

"You really are psychotic, aren't you?" She choked out, half a smile on her face.

"You're just getting that now, or did it really take you that long to finally say it out loud?"

Clara laughed and punched his arm lightly, much to his surprise.

"Alright, Mister, drive me to my apartment," She ordered, taking his hand and leading him back to the car. "We have a lot to talk about."

Jim chuckled lightly but obliged willingly, and unsurprisingly found his way to Clara's flat easily enough.

"I suppose you've been through all this before," Clara remarked as they ascended the many flights of stairs to Clara's apartment.

"Well, it's more fun with you here," Jim replied with a grin, causing Clara to laugh.

"Yeah, you're actually invited into my house this time."

She unlocked the door, an action that was quite possibly unnecessary with Jim around, considering his aptitude for breaking into places and stepped inside. She wandered down the hall with Jim Moriarty in tow, wondering for a moment why she was allowing a criminal psychopath into her flat, but then realising she didn't care.

Jim flicked the kettle on and walked casually into the living room, seating himself into one of the armchairs with a lazy smile.

Clara sneaked a glance at him and couldn't deny that he looked good, but quickly banished that thought and set about making tea for two. She couldn't be having thoughts like this, he was a criminal. She realised that she still didn't know that much about him, though there felt like there was nothing else to know. But she hadn't visited 221B yet, and there was evidently more to be learned there. She wondered if this spontaneous bank robbery was a ply to put her off going to 221B for a little bit longer. He had said that she wouldn't want to be around him after she knew his story, but something told her she probably wouldn't be able to keep away, even if she wanted to. And that scared her.

She put the tea on the table in front of the silent Jim Moriarty, who was currently sitting hunched over with his chin rested on his steepled fingertips, seemingly lost in thought. The clatter of the cup on the table broke him out of his reverie and he looked up at Clara, offering her a small smile.

"Thanks."

Clara smiled in return and seated herself across from him. Jim turned the cup around so that he could grasp the handle with his left hand before bringing the cup it to his lips.

"Left handed," Clara uttered before she could stop herself, noticing with a start the small fact about the mysterious man. She felt proud that she had caught that small, seemingly insignificant action, that she had found out another fact about Moriarty, even if it was trivial.

"Sorry?" Jim paused in acute surprise, stalling the cup in his hands just before it reached his mouth.

"You're left handed," Clara repeated to clarify. "You turned the cup around so you could pick it up with your left hand."

"Very observant, Clara Oswald," Jim raised his eyebrows and smiled. "I'm impressed."

"I may not know your story, but at least I know what hand you write with," Clara grinned, sipping her own tea.

"Indeed."

"So," Clara blew on her tea softly. "We robbed a bank."

"We did."

"Why?"

"Like I said, I was bored," Jim shrugged, leaning back in his chair with his tea grasped between his two hands.

"Jim," Clara gaped at the man. "People don't just go 'Oh, I'm bored today. Hm, I think I'll go rob a bank'!"

"No," Jim leaned forward, taking a small sip of his tea and cocking his head to the side thoughtfully. "I said 'Oh, I'm bored today. Hm, I think I'll go rob a bank with Clara'."

"Why me?" Clara couldn't hold back a small smile at his words. "Don't lie to me. I've seen what you can do, I know you could've easily robbed that bank without my help."

"Admit it, you had fun," Jim grinned cheekily.

"No."

Admit it."

"No."

"Liar," Jim sang smugly.

"Alright fine, maybe a bit," Clara sighed with a small smirk. "But that doesn't mean it wasn't wrong. It was wrong. It was really wrong. God, I can't believe we actually did it!"

Jim shrugged innocently and sipped his tea contentedly. Clara's eyes strayed to a bag at his feet and her mouth dropped open.

"Jim, you did not bring the stolen money in here!"

Jim cast his gaze down to the small bag lazily. "Oh, that. I didn't know what to do with it. I don't want it. Do you want it?"

"No!" Clara yelped in a panic. "It's stolen! You honestly don't know what to do with it? You just took it for fun?"

"I don't need it," Jim replied simply, frowning slightly as if perplexed by her inability to understand.

"Well, I know what you're going to do with it," Clara fixed him with a stern glare. "You're going to return it."

Jim choked on his tea when her demand reached his ears. "You serious?"

"Completely serious," Clara replied, not about to let him change her mind. "You're going to return all of it."

Jim paused and fixed her with a calculating stare, his eyes dancing with amusement after his previous shock.

"You're full of surprises, Clara Oswald."

"Just doing what's right," She shrugged with a smile.

"Interesting."

"What is?"

"You are."

"Oh?" Clara grinned, wrapping her fingers around her tea cup and leaning forward slightly. "How? Have you not ever associated with someone who likes to do the right thing?"

"It's the fact that this particular person is trying to make me do the right thing is what's interesting," Jim raised an eyebrow in amusement. "You know I'm dangerous, yet you're not scared. You invited me into your home knowing that I'm apparently a psychopath. Your words, not mine, just to be clear."

"Maybe I'm just mad," Clara laughed. "Or maybe it's because you're interesting too."

"Maybe it's a bit of both."

"Maybe," Clara chuckled. "Lethal combination, really. I'm still not sure what you are. You're still a mystery."

"Got any theories?" Jim smirked, leaning closer.

"Is there a word for total screaming genius that's psychotic and just a tiny bit sexy?"

"I already told you my name's Jim," He grinned with a wink, placing his tea back on the table in front of him and standing up.

"Oi, where are you off to?" Clara's laugh faded away and was replaced by disappointment at the thought of him leaving.

"Places to be," Jim smiled, picking up the money and walking towards the door.

"I'll see you again soon though, yeah?" Clara asked hopefully, eyeing the bag and hoping that he'd take her advice.

"I did say I was sticking around," He answered with a smirk.

"And why do you stick around then, eh?" Clara leaned against the wall in front of him. "What's so great about me that keeps you coming back?"

"You're complex, Clara Oswald," Jim replied simply. "Like a riddle. I like riddles."

Clara's eyebrows knitted together as she considered his words. She wasn't sure if it was a compliment, but it was definitely a great deal better than being considered boring by him.

"Wait!" She took a step forward as Jim put his hand on the door handle. He turned towards her and quirked an eyebrow.

"In the vault, you wrote 'Miss me?'," She began curiously. "What did you mean?"

"A message for an old friend," Jim Moriarty replied, a threatening undertone to his voice though his face remained devoid of much negative emotion. "I'd best be off. You'll be hearing from me, Clara."

"I look forward to it, Jim," Clara smirked as Jim left the apartment. She knew what she had to do next. She knew what her top priority was.

She had to go to 221B, Baker Street.

Hey hey heeeeey so they robbed a frickin' bank whooo :D I mean bad, that was a bad thing to do, don't try that at home kids! :S xD

God this was fun to write but it's like four in the morning so I hope it was up to standards. Idk man, I think I write better late at night. Sleep is for the weeeak.

Hey, another question thingy.

What's the worst fictional death that you're still not over?

I'd say Moriarty, but we don't know if he's dead yet, and he's hella not dead in my frickin' fanfic. I'd say Loki, but I don't think he's dead either. GODDAMMIT DOES ANYONE REALLY STAY DEAD IN FICTIONAL LAND?

Dobby. Okay Dobby. Now that was just cruel.

Sooo anyway I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I really hope you'll keep reading :D Reviews spur me on guys, they motivate me to write and it makes me smile to see them soooo THE MORE THE MERRIER REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW :D

If you want to. I won't force you. Don't worry ;;)

But I would loveeee if you did review ;;) Thank you! :D