"Excuse me, sir."

The dark-haired man at the desk lifted his head slowly, his eyes and face wracked with annoyance. The lady at the door flinched as his dark eyes met hers. With a gesture, he signalled for her to continue, his eyes dropping back to the papers on his desk.

"You have a visitor." He could hear the tremor in her voice, and although she looked apologetic, he still bristled with annoyance, his eyes not rising from the work in front of him.

"I said," he took a breath for effect but also out of anger. Regardless, he achieved his goal of making the woman uncomfortable. "No disturbances today." He leant forward, placing his arms in front of him, with fingers interlocking. It was unusual for the staff to disrespect his wishes. He was curious about what she considered so urgent.

"Apologies sir," she murmured. Her anxiety was evident in her tensed muscles as she struggled to keep still. She clasped her hands behind her back to hide an obvious tremor. The man felt a slight rush at the terror he inflicted without effort. "There's a girl outside, and she's insistent on seeing you. I'm just not sure how to deal with her." She took a deep breath.

"The usual way Michelle, I'm not sure how anyone could locate me, but turning up on my doorstep unannounced is idiotic. If that is all." He looked down at his papers again, ready to dismiss Michelle when she spoke again.

"Sir, it's a child. She can't be older than 8. She refuses to leave, and the guards weren't sure what to do with her."

His eyes went to the frosty weather outside. The first flurries of snow for the year had begun to fall. He considered leaving the girl to wait; a child her age would likely give up or freeze to death. However, the idea of a child demanding to see him was entertaining enough to pass some time, especially considering his abysmal progress on his work. He smiled and leaned back in his chair, reaching for the cup of tea in front of him. "

"Show her in Michelle." He sipped his tea. Surprised, she hurried from his office to the front door. From the CCTV footage, he watched as a young girl, sopping wet and almost blue, was led into the house. Her shoes, bag, coat, and jumper were removed, and he knew Michelle would no doubt ensure they were dried and warmed for her. It was evident that she held out hope for the child's survival beyond the office walls. She was led towards the office door, let in, and then left. The door closed behind her. She looked straight at him, her head held high for someone so dishevelled. He let his eyes run over the entirety of the girl. Most notably, her body was bruised. Her arms were black and blue from where he could see them beneath her T-shirt sleeves and what he had originally assumed to be a red face from the cold looked to be bruises beginning to form. He was impressed she made no effort to break the silence he was using to make the situation uncomfortable, but given the trail of tickets she had in various pockets, she seemed to have travelled a long way to be here and had no doubt planned what she was going to say.

"You have come to my house uninvited, demanded an audience with me, and refused to be rejected." He stood slowly, his hands leaning on the desk in front of him, careful not to disturb the papers littered across it. She didn't flinch at all, and he was impressed. "I do hope whatever you have come here to say is worth taking your last breaths for." He watched her physically fight the urge to shiver from the cold. He had to stop his own eyes from drifting to the fireplace beside his desk, far enough away from the door that she wasn't feeling its warmth. He noticed she didn't look afraid. Her eyes seemed calm and focused. She stood motionless, though he was sure her age and innocence prevented her from knowing the danger she was in.

She took a few steps towards the desk, and closer to the fire, her eyes looking around the room before settling on him.

"I want you to kill my stepfather." She spoke softly and calmly, with the hint of a Scottish accent. He couldn't help but let out a chuckle. A child this age asking him for something so serious was absurd. He wondered who was messing with him. Shame on them for sending a child to her death.

"Any why would I do that?" He continued to smile, his mind going over the potential culprits behind this stupid play. He was sure someone was telling him they knew where he was but he couldn't think of anyone stupid enough to do this. His body shifted to face the large window behind his desk, watching the snowfall that was turning into a blizzard. He heard her shuffle around behind him but he didn't turn. She posed no physical risk to him. Any items she might have brought with her would have undergone removal before she stepped foot in this room.

"My ma says you're a bad man who makes people disappear."

That narrowed down the culprits, but he wasn't sure he even knew of any influential players with children like this. He wondered if someone had just caught his name and services in a passing conversation, a leak he would have to find later, but he was still curious as to how this child knew where to find him.

"And how does your mother know me?" He growled in an attempt to scare her again, but when he turned to meet her eyes she only looked nervous as though she was afraid of what to say next.

"My name is Lucia, and I think you are my biological father." She spoke quietly, but Moriarty heard every syllable with absolute clarity. His eyes took in her features with more care, and he noticed her discomfort now under his gaze. There was some similarity between them, enough for him to write this off as a poor joke.

"How old are you?" His voice came out more harshly than he had intended and he saw the fear beginning to creep into her eyes.

"6 years and 8 months." She grasped her hands together in front of her, looking down at them rather than meeting his harsh gaze.

It didn't take him long to backtrack to her conception and put the pieces together. Her accent, eyes and resemblance to her mother were obvious now. She had been a woman he had met in Scotland when he was trying to rebuild his empire. He had never been past manipulating people to get what he wanted, and this woman had been powerful, well-connected, and had wanted him. Before him now stood a consequence of his carelessness and he briefly felt something close to pity, as he thought of the upbringing this girl must have suffered through after the situation he had abandoned her mother in. She still stood unmoving, but he watched as her eyes flickered over the sheets of paper upon it. He began walking around the desk, his mind deciding before he even reached her. Her eyes snapped up to meet his. She stood fast, though he could see her instincts were telling her to run.

"I'll have your step-father disposed of" The idea was forming in his head as he spoke, running wild with the possibilities and opportunities the next few years would bring. He watched the hope form in her eyes, mirrored by the ambition in his own. "On the condition you stay and live here, you will never contact your other family again."

She held his eyes, barely able to contain the grin that wanted to split her face. Given the bruising, it wasn't a surprise she'd want to be rid of the life she was living. He was sure the room she was standing in right now was larger than anywhere she had lived in the last few years. He watched her contemplate her future, the opportunities she might have if she stayed. Moriarty was watching her with a smile of his own as he finally realised he would win. He had finally found himself the perfect pet, one he could raise and train and be far better than any Sherlock Holmes could ever have.

When she replied they were both smiling, plans beginning to form for their perfect futures.

"Yes"