His name was Sebastian Moran, a colonel in the war of Afghanistan who was recently reported MIA as it was notified to his father, Lord Augustus Moran, a client from Moriarty's network. He was also noticeable for spending a few years in Myanmar hunting tigers. All the research was done in a matter of a couple hours, and Jim had to admit that even though he had some work to do to make him disappear completely from the face of the earth, the man had done quite a good job by himself. Moriarty still had a lot he needed to know about him, and when he was notified, forty-eight hours later, that Bailey had died, he took it as a perfect opportunity to meet him again.

He called his driver in the next day and asked to be taken to the place where Moran was being held. His employee opened the cell and left them both alone. The blond man was lying on his back on the bench, he was even worse than the time they first met, his wounds were infected and there were a few new ones, too. His nose was definitely broken, and lying like that, he seemed like death.

"Hi," Jim greeted, this time much more serious. "I see you decided to stay," he added sarcastically as he got no response, walking a few steps closer.

"Well, you were very persuasive," the man chuckled staring at the ceiling and feeling the inscription in his dog tag with his right index finger. "But I have to say, the service here could be better."

"You're being served properly," Moriarty replied, shoving his hands in his pockets and getting a little closer again. "I imagine my employees have given you the news," he said analyzing the injuries and cuts in Moran's face.

"Oh, yes, they were effusive about it, too," he nodded and smirked but soon stopped and even seemed a little annoyed "stupid people. So sentimental…" he mumbled.

"Well, we have to somewhat recover the damage you've done, you just killed three great snipers," Jim commented. Sebastian put his feet on the floor and slowly turned around to sit, groaning and panting a lot in the process and pressing his rib cage. "Luckily for me their contracts didn't have life insurance."

"Good. They were good snipers. Not great." He corrected as he finally rested his back against the wall.

"Right, because you're great," Jim scoffed.

"No, I'm nearly perfect," the colonel said under his breath and looked up to catch Jim's reaction.

"Nearly?" Jim repeated mockingly, but at the same time a little upset to think that maybe the constant beating was starting to affect the man's over-confidence.

"The other guy did last forty-eight hours," he shrugged truly disappointed. "That was a faulty move I'm not too proud to admit."

"I've got a present for you," Jim said after a while, putting his left hand behind his suit and pulling Moran's gun and offering it to him with his hand open. The blond man looked at it and looked up at him. The prisoner smirked.

"You can have it," he said and again with a lot of effort, he put his hand under the bench and took another gun from there "I'm good, see?" he showed proudly the pistol to Jim, who raised his eyebrows and smirked back, satisfied with how resourceful this man was turning out to be. "Consider it a little thank you present for our partnership," he added raising his eyebrows, but immediately regretting it as he flinched in pain.

Moriarty watched him suffer for a while. He had always enjoyed this feeling of power, causing pain and despair in people without even touching them, but aside from that, there was something mesmerizing about how Moran took the pain. He never cowered from it, he didn't cry or curse or scream - he took it as part of the process and accepted it as it came. His heavy breathing as he still tried to recover from the effort to sit revealed a lot of his defined abdomen, consequence of the years of his military training. Jim decided he had seen enough, and closing his hand on the gun he put it in the front pocket of his coat.

"Thanks," the blond man said quietly. "When do I start?"

"You're no use for me like that," Jim shook his head. "You're being moved tomorrow. One of my workers will contact you again a few days later with an assignment. How does the West End sound?"

"Like I'm still being punished," the colonel joked. Jim smirked briefly before walking out of the cell. "Bye boss," the blond man called as he watched Jim go and the guard, the same who had been beating him up looked at each of them confused and clearly upset.

Jim looked at the guard, as if daring the man to say something. They stayed like that for some time before the guard gave up and decided to close the gate. Jim grabbed his hand to stop him.

"Get him a doctor. I'll call you later with more instructions," he said incisively at the guard's ear. There was nothing threatening in his words, but the way he said it the guard, Moriarty and even Moran, who watched the scene from his bench, knew there was going to be more from that. The man gulped with fear and nodded quietly before opening the cell and entering it while Jim walked away.

A.N.: I don't think I've ever written a story this quickly. Not much to say about this chapter, I'm not sure I'm completely satisfied with it, but it advances the story to the next chapter, where I promise things will start to get a little more heated. As usual, just a friendly reminder that I'd love to hear your opinions on my story so far. I'm really enjoying writing it and the plans I have for it, and will continue to do so, but it's always nice to have an outsider's perspective.