The humid, late night air smelled of strong coffee and sweat. The sound of guns clicking echoed through the hallways of the almost empty villa. Sebastian Moran sat comfortably at the dining room table, with weapons scattered over it. His shirt stained due to his last mission, smudged with the black of oil, dirt and gun powder, along with specks of crimson red. Posh, definitely wasn't the word for his appearance.

The unlocking of doors and clicking of shoes didn't alarm him for a second. Cleaning his hands in a ragged piece of cloth, Moran turned to the man who he'd never met in person. Sherlock Holmes looked the same as he had in the files and pictures, Jim had showed him months ago, when he was still the puppet in Moriarty's play. His coat hugging his shoulders and collar turned upwards, may have seemed as a confident look, but Sebastian saw the slight signs of fear in his steps and clenched jaw. Holmes's must have been questioning his decision of coming vulnerable and unarmed by nothing, but his words

Moran wasn't who the detective was expecting to see, especially in Moriarty's household. Sherlock somehow thought that he'd greet death himself as an old friend, but it seemed like they were back to page one. No direct contact, just messages from his people.

"Sebastian Moran. Quite the pleasure to meet you." Sebastian introduced himself in a hoarse and low tone. Sherlock's eyes squinted looking down at the man.

"Colonel Moran, lived in London for all your life, well almost. Quite rebellious, judging by your position in the business, parents didn't let little Sebastian play with his guns? Ex-military, sent back because started to enjoy your job a bit too much. Now you're his right hand or assassin or sniper, your pick, assuming by the…equipment."

A smirk of approval appeared on Sebastian's lips "No need for deducing, Mr Holmes. I'm assured you know more about me than I know myself."

Sherlock pointed out that he hadn't come for blunt chatter, but Moran knew it already. "Mr Moriarty hadn't come back yet, if, of course, he is the reason for your company."

"Should there be any other reason than my wish to see Moriarty?"

"Well, I would be more than flattered, that is, if I was the reason. Jim does rely on me dearly, most of what you've seen is my work." Sebastian bragged.

"I suppose, I found the little message he left obvious enough to be an invitation." Sherlock's mind drifted to his little present he received. Coming back home after the usual wandering, he had to face the empty white wall, being not that white anymore. Sherlock rolled his eyes and grunted at the enormous red letters spelling "Come and get me". Gore was Moriarty's kind of thing. Text messages we're Sherlock's, it would've been more appropriate, but not as effective.

"Patience, Mr Holmes, wouldn't hurt to have some."

"You'll be hearing from me." Sherlock announced with his back now to Sebastian, Holmes was halfway through the door when the sniper replied.

"Vice versa, Mr Holmes."

Sebastian bowed his head and secured the gun back in its place under his shirt. He didn't bother to check if the detective really left, there was no need. No one messed with a man whose appearance resembled Moran's in the least. He'd stare and smirk mischievously letting the other feel alarmed and unsafe. Moran was a tiger standing still awaiting for its prey to make the next move. Never bothering to look back, Sebastian knew that he was his own shield.

His feet found the cold, tiled floor of the kitchen. Walking over to the bar, he popped a bottle open and poured the strong alcohol. Already letting the drink consume his system, the sniper set the other one on the counter.

"Coast is clear."
After less than a few seconds, the man who put a bullet through his own skull appeared from the shadows of the other room. With another signature Westwood suit, jet-black hair slicked back, and slight stubble covering his features, the consulting criminal made his way to his own kitchen. Moriarty still let one hand rest in the pocket of his slacks, while reaching for the drink.

"I despise, yet admire people who don't play by my rules," Jim stated slowly, letting the s's linger in the air. With his eyes fixed on the glass of scotch he swirled in his hand, Jim huffed under his own breath. "but I must have needed to keep my eyes more open."

Being in the wrong wasn't Moriarty's type of game, but his patience never stopped ticking since he pulled the trigger on the roof of Bart's. Playing 'dead Moriarty' wasn't half as fun and he wasn't Mr Limitless anymore. Keeping a down-low became an issue and days filled with boredom happened more often, the 'holidays' didn't seem as fun as people made them sound like. Not long after 'the fall', Holmes's fake suicide came into light, but not Moriarty's. It ate at him, wishing he could finish his game properly, even thought about getting his own hands dirty. Knowing that Sherlock thought he'd outsmarted the consulting criminal, bent every nerve in Jim's body irritatingly. But the villain had greater plans in mind, rather than a sloppy job to get it over with. Making Holmes dance was just the warm up, but somehow Moriarty knew it was foolish of him to do so. They were a step ahead of each other most of the time, if not always. And so was the criminal this time.

"Ah, well." Jim interrupted the silence, startling his fellow friend and companion in crime. Jim's glass collided with the marble counter, whilst Sebastian downed what was left of his own beverage.

"Are you sure about this, sir?" Sebastian never questioned his boss, but concern was stronger than doubt and Moran dared to ask the question to Jim.

"Always am, Sebby. Always am." Moriarty assured him still clicking away on the final buttons of his phone, making Sherlock's own phone buzz miles away.

Round 2?
JM

Author's super awesome omg-you-wouldn't-believe-it note:

I'm being too generous and posted two chapters in just two days. Maybe it's just my constant boredom. Anywho, hope you enjoyed and let's NOT argue about Moran's character. Because, frankly, I have my own image of him in my head and I wanted to rely on that, so please, don't tell me if he isn't as accurate as in the books or what not. THANK YOU.

I hope the whole "this story doesn't rotate only around Sherlock" is pretty obvious, because well, there is no real main character in this and honestly, no idea where I'm going with this. I'll proooobably have to change the genre of the story to *cough* Crime/Romance *cough* due to the next few chapters so yeah. Now guess who'll be the one participating in a rather, affectionate relationship. Mwahahaha, we'll see ;D
I mean, you can guess in the review box or whatever, pfffffft. It's not required or anything, but…you know.