It wasn't until the late afternoon that Moriarty woke again. He was stirred awake by muffled clanging coming from the kitchen downstairs. The Doctor is still in, he thought to himself as he waddled over to the teapot that had been left for him earlier. Moriarty placed his hand against the white-washed porcelain, only to be disappointed that the tea inside had gone cold and wasn't replaced. Rolling his eyes, he picked up the teapot and made his way to the kitchen.

"Doctor," Moriarty called through the hallway, "I hope you haven't destroyed anything."

There was a pause followed by nervous laughter that echoed from the kitchen.

"Well," started The Doctor, "no, not really, although uh..."

Moriarty pursed his lips but said nothing. After all, the alien did save his life. So instead of thinking of what kind of mayhem The Doctor may have caused, he thought of what creations The Doctor may have made while he was asleep. A grand dinner, perhaps? More tea? Late breakfast? A large cake to feed an entire suburb for a week? Hopefully not the latter, that would be too much, Moriarty thought as he descended the large oak staircase that lead him to the entrance room of the house. He stopped suddenly and took a deep breath. The drumming was faint, but it was still there inside his head. Was he to tell the Doctor of this or leave it as it was? After all, this was technically fraternizing with the 'enemy', so to speak. Moriarty cringed at that thought. He had to take a side. The Doctor or The Master. Or maybe not... Moriarty slid along the long, red and gold rug that took him into the living room, letting the wool scratch the soles of his bare feet.

'You don't HAVE to take sides, you know,' he thought to himself, 'you're going to run circles around them, you sly devil, you.'

Moriarty chuckled under his breath.

"Having a giggle, are we?"

Moriarty whipped his head around.

"Excuse me?!" He exclaimed, but he was talking to no one.

The noise from the kitchen stopped and The Doctor called out: "Sorry, Jim! Did you say something?"

"I...," Moriarty paused, his head flooding with thoughts of potentially going insane. Hearing voices – what's next, seeing things that aren't really there?

The Doctor edged into the room cautiously as to not startle Moriarty who stood frozen in the middle of the living room.

"Do you want me to take that?" He asked, pointing at the teapot.

Moriarty fumbled for words. "I... What? This? Ah... Teapot... Right... In my hand... You would like to take... Me... From... From me!"

Moriarty thrust the teapot into The Doctor's chest and smiled half-heartedly.

"Teapot," he gestured at the gleaming porcelain object now in The Doctor's hands.

The Doctor stared at Moriarty, bewildered. He looked around, as if searching for the right words in thin air before asking: "do you want to go lie down again? I haven't finished dinner yet, so it'll be another hour or so... I actually don't know how to use the, erm, oven? Spaghetti goes in the oven, right?"

Moriarty's eyes widened. "Jesus, god, what the hell are you doing in the kitchen, Doctor?"

"Oh, look! Signs of life! Ha ha! Jimminy-Jim!" The Doctor playfully slapped Moriarty on the back and directed him towards the kitchen.

Moriarty's face contorted. Not only was he being touched by someone who is almost a complete stranger, but he was just given a pet name by someone who is almost a complete stranger, and of all possible pet names it had to be...

"Jimminy-Jim! Spaghetti's cooking in the oven on what seems to be fan-forced or something like that and I've got tea right here, nice and hot!"

"Please," Moriarty rubbed his face vigorously with his hands while trying to come to terms with the state that his kitchen was in.

Tea towels were strewn across the floor, as if the Son of God was meant to ride through the kitchen on a donkey at any second. About a dozen half-empty bottles of red wine were scattered in various places, including three in the sink, and empty packets of spaghetti were lying carelessly around the oven. To Moriarty's horror, the oven was almost completely full of spaghetti and what looked like red wine ('please, not blood! I don't even know with this fool anymore!') leaking out the sides of the oven door.

"Don't," Moriarty lifted his hand as The Doctor opened his mouth to speak.

"You didn't have any meat, and I wanted to make dinner that lasted a week," he spoke rather quickly.

"... Call me Jimminy-Jim," Moriarty closed his eyes, his hand still raised.

"Oh," there was an awkward pause, "I'm sorry."

Moriarty opened his eyes and lowered his hand. The Doctor blushed and looked down.

"Moriarty would do."

"Moriarty? Why not Jim, or James even?" The Doctor enquired.

"James; my colleagues at work call me James, and so did my mother... When I was in trouble, which was a lot of the time. Jim; close, let's just call them friends, for now, call me Jim... But Moriarty, ah!" Moriarty raised his eyebrows and grinned. "It makes me feel, well..."

The Doctor looked genuinely intrigued by what Moriarty was going to say next. It was rather obvious, so Moriarty decided to keep The Doctor on his toes – to play a little game.

"I can't quite-" Moriarty paused and touched the roof of his mouth with his tongue.

The Doctor opened his mouth to speak again, but Moriarty raised his hand again to silence The Doctor.

"Superior," Moriarty spoke.

The word echoed through the large kitchen. The Doctor was taken aback by Moriarty's choice of words.

"Oh come now, Doctor," Moriarty snidely remarked, "what did you expect from a man such as myself?"

"I really wasn't too sure, but I wasn't leaning towards this," The Doctor replied, coolly.

Moriarty sneered, but still managed to give The Doctor a smile.

"Now how about some of that tea you were brewing, eh?"