Moriarty swivelled around, confused by the voice's last comment. A tall, slender figure with pale blond hair stood before him with a malevolent smirk on his face and hunger in his eyes. Moriarty recognised him, but couldn't quite remember the man's name. His hair had been darker though, probably dyed it to stop people from recognising him on the streets. 'Got a lot thinner, too - perhaps a lack of money? Ah! Yes':

"Harold," Moriarty started, letting the name linger for a while. A smile played across his lips. He knew this man- of course, "Saxon."

Moriarty chuckled but the man before him didn't bat an eyelash.

"I thought you went mad? What are you doing here on my campus?" Moriarty leisurely slid his hands into his pockets and raised his eyebrows with a sly smile.

Not missing a beat, the man spoke: "Well, there are two things you got wrong."

Moriarty stopped smiling and frowned. He resisted the urge to fold his arms, but looked at the man he thought to be Harold Saxon as if to say 'go on, I'm listening'.

"For one," the man spoke, his voice ringing through the corridor, "I may be known as Harold Saxon, but that is not my real name."

"Then what should I call you?" Moriarty interrupted. 'Clearly, this man is absolutely mad. Maybe had one too many beers at the pub and decided to go pester someone till he drove them mad. How unfortunate, I am.'

"The Master."

Moriarty scoffed and rolled his eyes. He had just met the man and already Moriarty despises him. Annoyed and frustrated, Moriarty opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted once more.

"And two-" The Master raised his voice.

There was a long pause. Moriarty could feel the tense atmosphere building up between them. He took his hands out of his pockets placed his arms behind his back, shifting away with one large step, but The Master took two steps towards him until they were only a couple of inches apart.

"I need your help," The Master whispered, "I know you. Who you are, and what you want. You and I, we are alike, we both want the same thing. From different people, of course, but we are no different."

Moriarty was taken aback by all of this. Not only was this 'Master' character invading his personal space, but he was claiming that they were "alike". Moriarty sighed and closed his eyes. He had to do something to get this fool away from him.

"Yes," mumbled Moriarty. 'This should do it, just ease this crazy man away from you.'

He opened his eyes and looked at The Master, who was now smiling at him. 'No,' thought Moriarty, 'I really can't with this man, he has to go'.

"But you are a mad man," he snapped.

The Master moved away from Moriarty, still smiling, and fumbled around in his pockets.

"Where is it?" He muttered to himself.

Moriarty rolled his eyes. He looked down the dark corridor, hoping for a way out of the situation he was in. Quite suddenly, The Master whipped an odd contraption out of his pocket. It reminded Moriarty of a screwdriver, but it was white with thick golden bands outlining the edges of it. The Master pointed it at the light above them and pressed a button down. There was a high pitched noise and the light flickered off. Moriarty lifted his arms in front of him defensively and stepped back. Once more, The Master pointed the contraption back at the light. The same high pitched noise was heard and the light was back on, illuminating the small section of the corridor they were standing in.

"What... How-?" Moriarty wasn't the one to ask questions, but The Master left him baffled.

"You want Sherlock," The Master said.

Moriarty gaped.

"I heard you mumbling," The Master smiled and continued: "you want him, and I want... The Doctor." His eyes lit up with the mention of the name.

"The... Doctor," Moriarty was extremely confused now, and was getting very agitated, "Doctor, Who?"