Age: 23

Something goes wrong. Something always goes wrong when he's involved. I hadn't expected this. I really hadn't. Okay, maybe I had, maybe I had that inkling of a notion that this could happen, and then I brushed it aside as nearly impossible.

I thought I had planned for everything.

The dark warm liquid seeps through my hands and he stares at me with an expression of pity. I think he's trying to make me feel bad. I smirk, it's going to take more than that. He frowns at me slightly, and pain seems to enter his entire being. He flinches and looks at me in disgust.

"What?" I ask in an annoyed tone. What the hell could he possibly say to me now? At a time like this?

"Jim." That's it. That's all he says. His voice is weak and I can barely hear.

"What?" I ask again, my voice rising.

"I hurt Jimmy." I roll my eyes. Only a fool wouldn't. Or a nerveless person, but that's another story. "Jim." There is a small pause. He stares into my eyes. "James." I stop cold. It must be important. No one calls me James. Anyone that does is looking for the same punishment I gave father all those years ago. I punished him. I punished him good. He knows better. Why, then, would he risk his dying moment to get my attention?

"Brother?" He motions me to lean closer and I oblige, steadying myself with each hand on the ground, one across him, and one next to me.

"James." Again with that damn name. It must be important. Very important. "You knew didn't you. You knew about the risk." He isn't asking. I just nod. "Why didn't you say anything?" I look at him and smile.

"I didn't need you anymore." He chuckles at that.

"Sure you don't James. And you know what? I don't need you anymore either." He shudders and tries to sit up. He glares at me as if asking me to help him. It's the least I can do. "Help me James." He whispers, "I have something to tell you." Numbly, I help him up.

"What?" This is the third time I've asked. It's more of a quiet question rather than a comment this time though. He shudders again, swallowing and wetting his lips.

"You…" He stops, searching for the words to fill the things he needs to say. He's slipping. "I promised I'd only say something on my deathbed. That way you couldn't be mad at me." He chuckles again, blood pooling on the cement under us. I glare at him.

"What the hell are you on about?" I say. He simply grins.

"You remember that time- Oh of course you do. You remember everything. You remember the job we had a while back. Right after you met the Sebastian fellow. If I recall you hadn't yet hired him, you'd just met him, you'd just started thinking about using him." He pauses again, as if to get back on track. I remember it well. "You remember the fire?" Ah, the fire. That was a good one. Good job, good way to dispose of traitors. That was when- "You nearly got caught that day." I smile, as I said, good way to dispose of traitors. There is no room in my superiority for someone to constantly try and ruin my plans.

"Cowards burn. Yes. I taught you that." He smiles. "No one made it out alive." He laughs loudly at that, blood falls from his lips.

"No survivors eh?" He starts laughing again. There hadn't been… I checked. Or, I did a thorough check as could. Obviously I didn't count bodies, but…. "One did James. One escaped. I watched him do it. Funnily enough it was the traitor who found his way out. You missed something Jimmy." I frown. No I hadn't.

"That building went up faster than an exploding bus." He starts to laugh again.

"You missed something. And you know what?"

"What." Four. Four and now it's just a statement.

"It was our stepbrother." I stop cold. That is nearly impossible. But then… Bastard father. Bastard stepmum. Bastard stepbrother that went with stepmum. It makes an odd sort of sense. "Don't worry though." I check his pulse. He's fading fast. "I got him." I blink.

"You did what?"

"I got him professor." Professor….. "James. I got him. I avenged you. Aren't you proud?" I shake my head. Professor. Professor. I remember now. "Good-bye Jimmy." He slumps on his side, falling to the floor. I roll him over and close his eyes. Standing up, I brush my hands off. I kick is dead body with a frown.

Professor. I wanted to be a professor once. I'd even gone to school for it. I'd done well. Maths professor, one of the top in the classes actually. My teacher loved me. 'Professor Jim Moriarty. I like the sound of that' he'd use to say. Leaving my brother's unmoving body I walk away, hands in pockets.

I could still be a professor couldn't I?

No.

That would be leaving too much of a mark then wouldn't it? I'd be detectable. It's bad enough I even left the record. Why did I leave the record?

Pride.

Simply, pride.

I suppose I was too proud, I didn't want to let it go.

I regret nothing then.

I'm still glad I left it, even if there is a way to track me to an extent. It's not like they can get much further after that. I've destroyed pretty much everything of substantial use. Even my brother's records have been destroyed.

Professor Moriarty. Now there is a nice ring to it.


Author's Note: There. Enjoy. Most of that was written at school in my book, the bit about Professor M was a prompt that I thought would fit well, and yes Jim's brother died because of Jim. There. Busy. Leaving now. Ciao.

Mischief Managed

-P