"Now now, Greggie, that temper of yours has got you in a sticky little situation. I'm loving it."

Lestrade all but growled as reply. Moriarty had parked the cab and joined him in the back seat, putting Lestrade's own handcuffs on him.

"What do you want me for? It's not like there's anything you can do that will make me help you with whatever twisted shit you're planning."

"Oh, I know that Greggie, I just thought you'd be interested in something I found out. I found it intriguing. Quite unique, except obviously that's not the point. Ha ha. No? Oh dear. Ordinary people are so adorable."

Lestrade shook his head, the Irish tones warping in his head and not making any sense.

Moriarty moved closer to Lestrade, so the DI lurched back until he was against the window, but Moriarty followed and pinned him there.

"Why are you trying to escape me? I just want to help you. I help you, you help me. It's a win-win situation, honest." Moriarty's grin made Lestrade shudder, but he hung his head in fake defeat, acting like he was about to give in to whatever the shorter, more annoying Sherlock wanted.

Moriarty saw that it was faked, but knew that Lestrade would want to get in on his plan.

"Well, Greggie… If you don't mind that I call you that. Apologies" He sang "But I have it under excellent authority, my own in fact, that your ice man is indeed sleeping with John Watson."

"I knew that already. Can I go now?"

"No, you're going to want to hear this bit. He is sleeping with John Watson, and I do believe there is an engagement on the cards, but the point is that he is not sleeping with the same version of Johnny that Sherlock 'makes love' with." He spat the end of his revelation, miming inverted commas.

Gregory Lestrade was officially confused. He opened his mouth to verbalise it, but Moriarty pushed one finger to his lips. Lestrade looked down in shock, then shook his head to remove the alien touch.

"How do I explain this to your simple little mind?" Moriarty mused "There are two John Watsons. Original, and clone. Your favourite little politician has the clone one as his pet. Which is where you come in."

"No. This is not like hitting his dog with my car or something. No. I'm not… No."

"Greggie dear, I wasn't asking you to."

Lestrade looked up at Moriarty, looking into his eyes, genuinely interested in what was about to come out of his mouth next.

"You want the cream cake. I want the skinny latte. You go and inform Mycroft that we are going to go to Baskerville to get ourselves little clones, and get yourself some of his blood, and some of Sherly's too of course for your's truly, and I promise a six month honeymoon period where I don't do anything criminal in the slightest."

Lestrade didn't get a chance to answer as the door unlocked and swung open, and one of Moriarty's heavies pulled him onto the pavement.

Standing up and brushing himself down, Lestrade watched the cab turn round a corner and speed off, and then took in his surroundings.

I fell asleep in school today, and yesterday too, so I'm tired enough to not know if I've written actual words or not. Apologies.

This chapter is dedicated to CowMow and Erin Cumberbatch.

I forgot where I was going with this, so we're going another way, a far more cracky way with roadkill and shit. Yay!

If you review, I promise not to draw on your face while you're sleeping.