A Good Old Fashioned Villian

Chapter 2

  Moriarty.

  The name alone sent a chill through Sherlock. Now that name, accompanied by the rest of his existence, was standing in Sherlock's doorway. A very rare feeling entered his mind-- confusion. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel about the fact his mortal-nemesis, a mass murdering sociopath, was in his home. He didn't know if he was pissed, scared, excited or anything.

  "What?!" is the first coherent word that popped into the detective's head.

  "I asked if you missed m--"

  "I heard you," Sherlock replies. "And no. I didn't. What are you doing in my flat?"

  "Well aren't you going to invite me in?" the professor inquires, smiling deviously at Mr. Holmes.

  Sherlock's eyes narrowed at the gray-suited man before him. He was outraged with Moriarty's very existence and now he was requesting entrance to his home. Unable to find a way out of the current situation, Sherlock stepped aside, allowing Moriarty to walk past the threshold.

  "My, my," Moriarty commented, "you haven't changed a thing, have you? Very... cozy."

  "What do you want?" Sherlock hastily questions, becoming more annoyed by the minute.

  "You know, Sherlock, it really is nice to see you again. I haven't had anyone to play with." A wicked grin crossed the man's face, his eyes lighting up. How he loved toying with him, Sherlock Holmes, the world's greatest detective-- and he still couldn't figure out what made him tick. They were each other's perfect puzzles.

  "This is no time for games," Sherlock snapped again. A huff of annoyance escaped the detective's lips. Patience has never been his strong suit.

  "Oh, I just thought I'd drop by," he lies, slowly pacing around the room. Sherlock's eyes follow the man's every move, cautious, curious. Moriarty stops in front of Sherlock, a mere inch away. "Well, I missed you. I got bored without any clever people to play with..."

  "Why are you here?" Sherlock asks in a rushed inquiry.

  Moriarty sighed heavily as if he was bored and slowly walked over to the chair in which usually sit. Placing himself in the seat, he gestured for the other man to join him. Looking straight into the eyes of Mr. Holmes, he spoke, "I need your help, Sherlock."