Jim Moriarty relaxed into his chair as he relished the feeling of the expensive leather. He believed it was from an Italian brand, something minimalist, yet it held the quality of the expensive taste he'd acquired. He supposed his tastes and the sheer amount of materialistic items he had purchased over the span of the years was an indicator of his success...and perhaps something else. Fingers tapping against the desk, he listened to the song blaring through his earphones. "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun". The peppermint gum he'd been chewing was beginning to conjure a bitter taste upon his tongue. Tilting his head from side to side,he weighed the option he was considering.

You see, that morning (like every other one) he'd encountered endless emails from clients he'd decided were maybe worth his time. These had been narrowed down from thousands. Hundreds of them came pouring in, creating quite the headache for Jim. "Please, my wife's a bitch...", "My boss is an asshole", "I need you to kill someone...". Blah, blah, blah. It was one of those days. A boring day. Filled with boring people and boring situations. As he sat within his sound-proofed office, located on one of his top floor apartments, he decided that this wouldn't be so. The idea of a surprise assassination being planned was intriguing, yet the sight of someone's head being blown off was beginning to become a mundane and quite frankly, frequent course of events.

"Kennedy would be appalled..." Jim mused with a slight raising of his eyebrows.

Jim found himself scowling at his boredom. Lifting his custom whiskey glass, he swallowed the liquid as well as the melted ice in one swift movement. In a sudden movement he jumped up in his chair a little, slapping both his cheeks simultaneously with both hands. Jim's dark eyes settled themselves upon nothing in particular. Floating dust particles caught his attention. He supposed he could play with Sherlock some more, he loved their games intensely. His mind wandered to the last time he'd seen the virgin. They'd had a lovely chat while they were at the pool, where he had managed to murder Carl Powers all those years ago. It made Jim giggle, reminiscing on simpler times, that had been too much fun. No one had ever even guessed it was Jim Moriarty who killed the popular young lad.

One idea had stemmed from that conversation at the pool. The idea of obtaining himself a little pet of his own. Sherlock's darling little relationship with his own was intriguing. John was so ordinary, so boring. The classic case of a war veteran. The funny little blonde man, so touchingly loyal. If Moriarty could get a pet to be half as loyal as John to Sherlock, only God knows what would happen. The idea was playing within his brain on a loop. The past few nights he had been sleeping even less than usual, his brain a constant jumble of 'maybe'. The idea was becoming more and more appealing. He could imagine it and if it didn't work out, he could always have them killed. He suspected they would get boring quite quickly, a little torture could improve that though. A distraction...he was always looking for distractions. Life was too boring otherwise. It'd be so funny...

Jim ground his teeth and nodded to himself, a small smirk appearing on his face. Removing the gum from his mouth, careful not to allow any saliva to spill onto his desk, he quickly threw it across the room, the white and glistening lump landing right before the door. The perfect trap.

"MORAN. NOW!" Jim liked to say that he felt bad about interrupting the marksmen who was currently planning an assassination attempt, though he really didn't.

The sound of the door opening sent glee within him. Jim hid his grin as the marksmen's shoe efficiently squashed the gum, removing itself from the carpet. Though, a stain had left. Hmm, perhaps the new pet could clean it. Poor Sebastian didn't even realise, oh well. He'd find it later. The sniper looked alert and ready for action, good. His task was going to be odd. Moriarty glanced at the sunken skin beneath his green eyes, poor thing.

"Find me a pet, and I don't mean any animals." Jim lazily ordered, with full knowledge Moran wouldn't try and question him if he knew what was good for him. Jim had been bored for the past couple of days, a brewing storm of anger was bound to erupt. Without waiting for an answer, he swivelled his chair to glance out at the grey sky and the tall buildings that were within his view. So many ordinaries. So many boring people within this little city. He wondered which one he'd find.

"Why not this one?"

"Oh, good God Sebastian you really are dull. Look at her! I can practically already tell you her life stor-" Sebastian Moran clenched his jaw as he leant the earpiece into his chest, allowing the sounds of Jim Moriarty to become significantly muffled.

Six hours. Six bloody hours of this stupid shit for his boss. Everyone he picked out wasn't good enough. "She doesn't have good fashion taste", "he has a thing for My Little Pony, tantalising, or should I say tailtilising?", "she's too heavy handed in cocaine, my dear.". To say Moran was exhausted would be the understatement of a lifetime. Moran had half the mind to throw the small camera device from his collar and tell Jim off. There was a lot more important tasks he needed to be completed.

"I'm so done with this shit."

That was Rose's final thoughts on her job which she'd just effectively managed to quit- or lose. Her manager was just about as red as a rose by the time she left. A hand sneaking up her thigh was one thing, another was one was on her breast. Without a second thought she'd stormed out of her silly little waitressing job, a backpack over her shoulders. Rose needed a drink with money she didn't have, with friends she didn't know.

Why she had ever come to London was beyond herself. The city was alive yet it was so boring. Perhaps the city was really just a reflection of her life. Rose was always bored. Even when she was out drinking or at a party, or even chatting with someone she hoped for something more. On one too many occasions she'd found herself wishing for a terrible thing to unfold around her, like a crime or an earthquake, just so that she could escape for a moment. Of course, she supposed that she should probably bring that up with someone. It was always odd to her though, most of her 'friends' were content with all of it. A relationship was all they needed and desired to be... content, happy? Rose was certain there had to be more to life than that. There must be more. A quick lay by the same person who was most likely cheating on them seemed to make all of the others become over the moon. She had always been terribly envious of the ones who had the ability to travel the world, to sink their teeth into culture, to immerse themselves with strange and alluring people. The strangest person she'd truly met was a man she'd once kept company with in one of those homes she and many others used to... live in. Regardless, he was a distant memory and she briefly wondered if he was even still alive, from the state she had last saw him in, she doubted it. Very intelligent, that one.

Rose found herself wondering the streets after that occurrence with her manager. There were people everywhere. They wondered like ants. Wishing she understood exactly why these dark thoughts accompanied her so often, she decided she needed a cigarette. Of course, that day was being cruel and she remembered that she didn't have the money at the moment. The thought of going back to her crappy studio to simply lay there until another day passed made her insides cave into themselves. Eviction would probably be pressed within a week.

To slightly escape the stampede of people she glanced at one of the walled gardens on her left, though it was around noon only a few people rested on it. Probably the cold weather. Rose stood still against the crowd that was enveloping her on the busy walk. Peering at the people who occupied the wall that framed the garden full of cigarette butts. The first was a mother and her child, she was attempting to shield the baby from the biting cold. The second was an old man, his leather-like skin sunken and his mouth moved as he muttered to himself. Nope, Rose thought. The last was an obnoxiously tall blonde man, pale skin and fairly conspicuous all-black clothes. He was built well from what she could see. That was not what was intriguing her though. It was the waft of smoke coming from his down-turned face, was he smoking!? The shops adjacent were a mere few metres away. Biting back a grin at the man's dare to risk the chance of being caught by the police in broad daylight, she clutched at the straps of her backpack. As soon as she saw the smoke her mind became foggy with one need. That need was to inhale that deliciously poisonous smoke.

Gathering up the courage, despite the hammering in her chest she slowly walked over to him. Before she had a chance to be too close to him, he looked up as if it was instinctual. His blue eyes regarded her with a mixture of intrigue and...annoyance? Her eyes were mainly fixated on the dwindling cigarette between his teeth.

Rose swallowed the lump in her throat and continued walking towards him, with extra caution now. In a swift movement, a slightly heavy task considering her backpack weighing her down, she jumped to perch beside him on the wall. Before she could even begin to think of how to ask for a puff, he spoke.

"You know, most chicks don't try to be so obvious." His voice was as rough as she had been expecting, given his look.

Her brows furrowed at what he said until she chuckled at his meaning. Did he really think she was trying to flirt like this? The chuckling earned her with a confused look on his part and suddenly his body shifted towards her so that one leg was perched up on the brick wall and the other was dangling. His full frame was faced towards her now. Bit odd.

Running a hand through her hair and grinning awkwardly she coughed.

"Sorry, love but I'm actually hoping to flirt with death, not you." A cockiness she hadn't allowed herself to utilise within her had just come out to play.

The tall man's eyebrows shot up in amusement at her words, noticing the way her eyes were fixated on the cigarette that was now between his fingers. Sebastian could thank the Gods he didn't believe in for this odd woman. He could practically hear Jim purring through the earpiece.

"Moran, you should give the poor darling what she wants. Oh, and if you don't get her back here by tonight, I just might consider skinning you."

"Then, by all means..." Sebastian held out the cigarette, a relief washing over him that he wouldn't have to walk over the whole city just to find a plaything for Jim.

The woman took it eagerly and he watched as she inhaled. He supposed she was a incredibly beautiful, innocent, Jim was going to sink his teeth into her. Long, curly blonde hair fell in cascades down her back. Her body was very slim, perhaps from malnutrition. As she glanced up at him, he turned his head glancing at her eyes. Unlike the standard of two eyes being the same colour, one of hers was green where the other was blue. Oh yes, Jim was going to have a field day.

"Seb-ast-ionnnnn." The low growl was enough to force Sebastian of ways to arrange this.

"I'm Rose Lare, by the way."

"Sebastian." There was no need to give her a last name, not yet, in case the mission wasn't t successful.

He watched as she flicked the remains of the cigarette into the garden, his lips twitched with a slight amusement at that. The way she was acting was almost directly opposite of how she looked. Young, blonde and delicate versus her obvious disdain and carelessness beneath her. He couldn't have imagined a better fit for Moriarty's toy.

Truth be told, he had no idea just what exactly being "Moriarty's pet" would include, he knew that it would be strenuous and daunting though. Moran had a feeling that Jim didn't quite realise anyone he chose was going to be as trusting and eager to please as Sherlock's good doctor.

"Want a ride home?"

Sebastian really didn't need any special or intelligent skills to realise she was either walking or going on a bus home. The woman, in all honesty, seemed quite flustered from something. He watched her as she glanced up, hope in her eyes. He almost felt bad, that hope would be diminished a few minutes later.

"No, no, no! I DON'T CARE! FIND IT. You know, I hear crocodiles are hungry for human flesh this time of year. Must be the season.''

The loud voice was the first thing that awoke Rose. Someone was yelling. An extremely groggy feeling had overcome her, she simply felt disorientated and weak. There was no energy within her body or her mind. Thoughts could scarcely be formed. She found herself staring up at a white ceiling, skylights dimly turned on to provide a warm glow. Where the hell was she?

That one question in her brain seemed to awaken all of her senses in one moment. Fuck. All of her memories from the day began to flood her brain. Sebastian? That wasn't the person who'd been yelling. She was trying to piece together things. He had offered her a lift, they'd walked and then...what? In a swift movement Rose found herself sitting up in a black leather lounge, the fabric stuck to the sweaty back of her. In front of her, there was a large fur mat with a tinted glass coffee table. It was scarce of any details or ornaments. Further past that, another lounge was there, empty still. The enormous window engulfed her view, it was open plan style and it was obviously expensive. A vast array of buildings could be seen and the sky was almost completely dark, every building had lights on. It was a pretty sight. This was no where near her apartment building. Where the fuck am I?

Goosebumps crept there way up her neck as she felt a pair of hands on either side of her grip the back of the leather lounge. Her heart hammered. If this wasn't prank she had a feeling she may die from fright. Rose glanced up, craning her neck to see the face of an unfamiliar man. A pale milky complexion and thin lips. He was staring out the window, his adam's apple visible.

"You said you wanted to flirt with death. " A pit of dread formed itself in her stomach as she listened to the soft Irish voice, it was dangerous. His very presence was unnerving her.

Suddenly, his eyes flickered down towards her. The fear pooled itself inside of her, anxiety crushing her chest. The dark orbs that stared down at her made her stomach flip. They were so empty. They seemed to embrace her and began to suffocate her. It was as if they had picked her up into a dance she did not want to be a part of. A small smirk played at his lips as his tongue darted out to lick them.

"That's good, very good.'' A pale hand came up to twirl itself, emphasising his next statement. ''Well...I'm just speeding up the process.''

Then, he smiled. His lips began to elongate themselves towards his ears. Glistening white teeth peeked out towards her. None of this was as frightening as the way his eyes were twinkling. It was as if his face was a mask and whatever was wearing it was peering out at her.

''Ooo, look at your eyes. Two different colourrrrrrs. I kinda want them for myself but...scooping always takes sooo long.''

In one adrenaline-rushed move, Rose tilted her head and bit down into one of his hand. The feeling of her teeth sinking into his flesh was somewhat empowering. The taste of some sort of product that had lingered on his hand had her gagging. It tasted like soap. The bite was hard enough to elicit a growl of pain and the hands to release the pressure on her shoulder. Taking this as an advantage, Rose immediately jumped away from the couch, running to the other one and jumping onto it. Standing higher made her feel safer. She was absolutely frantic. Her heart was hammering inside her chest. She was expecting the sound of a gunshot to occur any second now. As she looked at him, she wanted to scream. He stood tall now, his jaw clenched. Those eyes... they were filled with a deep hatred. Mainly staring at...her shoes? Why the hell was he staring at my shoes? Rose glanced down, expecting some sort of trap or something. There was nothing, just the leather couch beneath her. Glancing back up, she felt constricted, was he waiting to make a calculated move?

''That leather is worth more than your own life.'' The soft voice was filled with anger. It had been mumbled somewhat under his breath.

Rose stood there, her arms folded against her chest, body shaking and fear rushing through her veins. Exasperated, she replayed his sentence four times within her brain, making sure she didn't hear something that wasn't said. Was he actually concerned with the couch just now? This was incredulous. Was he not aware that he had just had someone KIDNAP her!? Was he some kind of idiot who had just gotten lucky at kidnapping her? What the hell was going on. In a swift movement he brought the hand that she had bit into up to his mouth. He opened his lips and seemed to lick across the wound, a sudden faux-hurt look in his eyes as he looked at her. Quickly, he shoved both his hands in his pockets, a pout on his lips.

''You bite hard.'' A smirk played its way onto his lips, the suggestiveness obvious.

Rose wanted to scream, she was so confused and terrified. The tension in the room seemed to be somewhat one-sided, he looked almost calm, as if nothing had even happened. She, however, was on the verge of passing out. It was becoming difficult to breathe as he watched her with a tilted head. It was as if he was assessing her. Everything was silent, the only noise coming from the entire apartment whir of a fridge in the kitchen behind the Irishman.

Suddenly, noise sounded and Rose found herself jumping down from the couch, ready to run. The man hadn't moved a single inch, except his smirk was gone. What the fuck was that? It took her a moment before the whirring in her ear subsided and she could truly hear the noise. Slowly, the up-beat tune was recognised in her mind. No way. There is no way. There was no way that that song was playing in one of the most terrifying situations she'd ever been a part of. Confusion took over her, it couldn't be. Her brows furrowed. The man was obviously angry now but not with her. He still hadn't moved but his eyes were full of rage and his lips were pursed, almost making it seem as if he had none. The sound was coming from him. With adrenaline still alive In her body she begged the question.

''Is that the Bee Gees?''

One of my first Sherlock fanfics! Please review and give me feedback. Thankyou so much!