This is M for a reason, folks. Chapter 1 may seem tame, but there is so much more to come. That being said, this was one of the most fun things to write ever, I think. I own nothing, all rights go to BBC and Moffat and Gatiss. Thanks to ladycorvidae, the effervescent Jim to my Seb. You're lovely, Magpie.

Chapter 1: "Jim from IT"

Jim lounged and stretched in the black, wingback chair behind his desk. It had been a good day: two assassinations, some mind games, a bit of torture. And now, he had an extra assignment, one that he had been working on for some time now...a certain consulting detective, Sherlock Holmes. That man was so like him it was scary. But he was...helping people. And that was just. So. DULL; Jim had to get his attention somehow. The consulting criminal sighed. Maybe he should call in the Colonel, bounce some ideas off of him. He took out his phone.

Seb- need you in the office. Working out some ideas for The Virgin. -JM

Be there in a sec, Boss. Just cleaning my gun. -SM

Jim smirked. So that's what they call it now? -JM

Seb's lip twitched as he read the text. Yes, Boss. It is. Coming. -SM

Jim raised an eyebrow. Naughty, naughty Sebastian. He leaned his head back and awaited the arrival of his pet. Seb took the stairs from the roof four at a time, jumping the last six and landing light on his feet before letting himself into the flat and strolling through to Jim's office.

"Sebby...glad you could come," Jim purred, adding emphasis on the last word to tease. "I have a bit of an idea block and need your help. I'm organizing a...game. One that will end with a BANG."

Seb sat on the edge of Jim's desk. "Same here. So, what's this little game? You do know how I like bangs."

Jim looked at where Sebastian was perched. His previously jovial mood swiftly shifted. "What. Have I told you. About sitting. On my desk," he said, his voice a growl. Seb smirked, sliding off the desk and into the chair in front of it. "Better?"

Jim nodded once, curtly. "Anyway, this game that I have. Sherlock Holmes: have you heard of him?" he inquired, arching an eyebrow. "Brainy chap, works with the Yard, solves crimes. It's like he and I were separated at birth with how we think. And the bastard has to go and ruin it by helping people," he continued, screwing up his face in disgust as he said the word 'helping' as if it left a foul taste in his mouth. "How do I get close to him without revealing my true intentions?" he mused.

Seb nodded once at the mention of the detective. "Well," he started, "you could always go incognito, Boss. Plant yourself in plain sight but make yourself boring."

Jim arched both his eyebrows. "Now that, my dear Colonel...is an excellent idea," he said.

"Really?"

"Really. I even have just the thing; he hangs around at St. Bart's a lot. I can go there as an IT drone, find out who he knows there, use them to get close to him. Perfect," he said, grinning his shark's grin.

"See? You just needed a little spark of inspiration, sir."

He chuckled. "And you're my fire starter."

Seb grinned, his lips curling. "Anything to get a good bang," he replied with a smirk.

"Oh, when this is resolved, you won't be able to walk, that's how good a bang there'll be," Jim purred. Seb shifted in his chair slightly. "Fucking hell, Boss," he muttered, "I'd have you right here right and now if I didn't think my guts would be used as garlands on your next Christmas tree."

The smaller man snorted. "I like you; your death would be quick...unless you displeased me of course. Then it would be less of Christmas tree garlands and more of I'd make a noose of your own intestines and hang you with them," he said, idly examining his nails.

"Oh, I like how you think. Especially since I'd still be alive as you ripped them from me."

"Exactly the point, Sebby, exactly the point."

"Anything else you need, Boss?"

Jim thought for a moment. "No, that should be all for now. I'll get you should I need anything," he replied.

"Of course. I'll just be polishing my gun." With that, Seb strolled from the room, leaving the door open just enough to bug Jim.

Jim growled as Seb didn't shut the door all the way. But he knew just how to get him back. Oh yes he did. He started tomorrow as 'Jim from IT' at Bart's, and he was sure that there'd be a way to burn both pretty Sherly boy and Seb as well.

oOoOo

Molly was standing in the cafeteria line contemplating the mystery casserole when the dark haired man walked up to her. "Oh, ah, hello."

Jim Moriarty looked the mousy woman up and down, analyzing her briefly. Jim from IT smiled slightly and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. "Oh! Ah, hello there. Um...I'm Jim, from IT. I just started here," he said, his voice softer and more nervous.

"Molly. Hooper. I'm a pathologist, you know, spending my days with corpses. Oh, sorry, that sounded awful." Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Jim Moriarty's interest was piqued. So, the little mouse played with the dead, did she? How interesting. This also more than likely put her in direct contact with Sherlock. Jim from IT chuckled. "No worries. That sounds interesting. I just spend my days with computers," he said.

"Really?" Molly blushed. "That's-nice. I'm rubbish with computers. The only thing I can work properly is my mobile. I can't even set my cable box."

Moriarty inwardly groaned and rolled his eyes. Jim from IT said "Oh, that's no problem. Loads of people can't."

"Could you-no, it's a stupid-could you help me, maybe?" Molly bit her lip, convincing herself it was probably better to just go back to filling her plate.

Moriarty rolled his eyes again. "Help you? Sure! What is it you need help with? Computer, I'm guessing. Oh...God, that was stupid, of course it's a computer thing. Not like you want me to come look at your sink," Jim from IT said, stammering and blushing. Molly started giggling. "Yeah, it's the one in the lab. It's frozen, and before you ask, I did turn it off and then on again."

"Right, I'll come take a look at it. Are you free after lunch?" Jim from IT asked.

"I should be. Unless-well unless Sherlock comes by, but I'm sure that wouldn't be a problem."

DING DING DING! The magic words. Moriarty couldn't believe it. Right out of the gate, he had found his connection, his pawn: the mousy pathologist. "No...that shouldn't be a problem at all," he said, grinning.

"D'you-you want to eat lunch with me? You probably have friends or something waiting for you."

"Oh! No, lunch would be lovely. I don't...I don't have friends here...just started today," Jim from IT said, a bit bashful. Moriarty was gloating. Just perfect; she would be so easy to manipulate that he could do this in his sleep.

"I know how hard it is to be the new person." Molly continued down the line, Jim by her side. They sat together and talked, the conversation getting easier with every passing minute. This was easy, talking to him, and Molly couldn't help but feel slightly excited.

Jim Moriarty was going to go even more insane than he already was if he had to listen to this woman's mindless drabble for another five minutes. Jim from IT listened raptly and responded enthusiastically. Finally, finally, it was over; lunch clocked out and it was time to go check out Molly's computer and hopefully meet Sherlock. Molly led him down to the lab, showing him the computer in her office that was hopelessly stuck. "I really can't figure out what's wrong with it," she said, wringing her hands.

It was a simple enough problem, easily fixed with a few keystrokes. He noted, sourly, that there was no sign of the detective. Then he had an idea, how to gain access to the morgue, Molly's computer, her head and her silly little heart, and eventually, to Sherlock. "Listen, Molly...I was wondering...ah...um...would...would you like to go out for coffee some time?" Jim from IT stammered, going red in the face.

Molly turned pink. "I get off work at five...Or we could meet before work sometime. I mean, I don't want to push you into anything..."

"No, no! After five sounds just fine! I...I don't want to rush you either, but you've just been so nice to me on my first day and all," Jim from IT said. Inwardly, Moriarty was gagging. Such tripe!

"I'll meet you at the front then. There's this little coffee shop just around the corner." She smiled tentatively at him, wondering if she really had just snagged herself a date. Jim Moriarty and Jim from IT smiled; time to set the trap and draw the noose. "It's a date."

Molly fought back a squeal. "See you then."

Jim from IT nodded and beamed, walking out of the chill of the morgue. Jim Moriarty took out his cell phone as he walked down the hall of Bart's, sending Seb a text.

Have my in. That was almost too easy. -JM

Took you all of what, two hours? You're slipping, Boss. -SM

He growled. Not my fault that my pawn decided not to shut up. And no lip out of you. I'm in no mood for your games today, Sebastian. -JM

Jeez, someone's grouchy. Fine, sorry. Out all night on a hit. -SM

Seb out on a hit. The thought made him purr. He could easily see it in his mind's eye: Seb dressed all in black, leather gloves covering his hands as he crouched with his gun trained on the target. Aim true or you will be. -JM

I never miss any of my targets, Boss. I won't blow it. -SM

See that you don't. -JM and with that, he snapped his phone shut and went to wait out the rest of the shift.

oOoOo

Jim looked at the clock. It was nearly five; he groaned. "Time to go make...nice," he mumbled, nearly gagging on the word 'nice.' He really had no idea how he was going to stomach this. This is all about getting to Sherlock. Once you get to him, you can drop the bitch like she was a ruined Westwood.

Molly worked double time to finish her work by five, refreshing her lipstick and straightening her blouse after hanging up her lab coat. She walked quickly to the front doors, excited and nervous to see Jim again. The pathologist broke into a grin when she saw Jim leaning against the wall next to the door of the hospital. "Hey, Jim."

"Molly, hi!" Jim from IT said, all bright smiles and little flushes. "Shall we?" he inquired, holding the door for her, a proper gentleman. She blushed, grinning like an idiot. "Thanks, yeah. Come on, it's just down the street."

Jim followed her; the coffee place really was a hole in the wall, all chintzy armchairs and dim lighting with avant garde art on the walls and smooth jazz piped through the speakers. Gag. Molly ordered for them and insisted on paying, leading Jim back to her favorite corner of the shop, pretty secluded from the rest of the patrons. "I come here to think a lot. You know, hash out ideas and try to work out interesting CODs from work, stuff like that."

Again, Jim Moriarty's eyebrow went up. Little morbid Mouse, how very, very interesting this was turning out to be. Pathetic, but interesting. "Really? Do tell. I happen to find that sort of stuff fascinating," Jim from IT said, taking a sip of the horrible coffee and trying hard not to pull a face at it.

"Well, there was this one about a week ago, apparent COD was a stab wound just above the heart, but one look at the body and Sherlock said it was poison. I spent several hours trying to figure that one out. Turned out where was a tiny puncture just below the ear...hypodermic needle. I felt like such an idiot."

Jim from IT's eyes widened. "No, really?" he gasped. "So, this Sherlock bloke...he's another pathologist?" Time to drain her of information. Or work some out of her.

"He's a-I think he calls it a consulting detective. Anyway, he works with the police sometimes on solving crimes and murders and stuff. He's almost always in the lab a few times a week running tests and experiments and things. I never totally understand it all; he thinks too fast for me."

"A consulting detective? Does he work for the police?" Jim asked. Moriarty inwardly fumed. Bastard had stolen his name. Consulting criminal, that was his bit first. But then he brightened... they were the same person. And great minds really do think alike, after all. Oh, brilliant Sherly, Jim was going to have fun playing this game.

"No, he works with them. They bring him in to help with cases when they get stumped. And yeah, I mean, I guess anyone could hire him, but they'd have to be 'interesting'" She put air quotes around the word. "He gets bored easily."

Moriarty was gleeful; oh, this was just too good. Sherlock, you pretty boy, your eyes will look fantastic in a crystal jar on my mantelpiece, he absently thought. "Really. So, he does all sorts of tests in the lab, huh? Guess that must be annoying, having him underfoot all the time," he said. Maybe, just maybe, he could get an ally out of this...

"Well, a little, mostly because he's so rude, and because he has a habit of pulling me off of my job to help him or sending me scurrying around like his assistant."

"And you've never told him off?"

"I tried once or twice. He either didn't get it or did and cut me off, telling me I was wasting my breath."

Jim from IT hummed sympathetically. "I've known people like that," he said. Of course, those people rapidly ended up dead or hung on a meat hook, twisting and screaming.

"Yeah, it's frustrating. Still, he's interesting to have around. He gets so absorbed in his work that he forgets about the world around him. It's cool to watch."

Jim watched her face carefully. Pupils dilated, a flush across her cheeks, almost a certain spike in her pulse. Oh, Molly, Molly, Molly...silly little Molly, she had a crush on Sherlock. Inwardly, his mouth twisted into a grin; this was going to be so delicious. "I bet. But enough about him...let's talk about you," Jim from IT said, his lips quirking into an endearing half-smile, one that he had practiced, one that made the ladies feel all sorts of melty on the inside. She glanced at him, grinning and blushing, her hands twisting in her lap. "I'm really not that interesting-"

"Oh, that's rubbish...everyone's interesting," he scoffed. You really, really aren't, is what Moriarty thought. However, he mused, she did have that lovely dark streak. He wondered what she looked like wielding a scalpel, blood all over her gloved hands.

"I'm really not. I live alone in my flat with my cat Toby, I spend my days in the morgue, and the most complicated thing I cook right now is reheating a TV dinner so I can watch Glee. My life is sad."

That really is sad, Moriarty thought. "Don't feel bad about it...I work in IT all day, then go back to my flat and watch TV and eat ramen. And...what's Glee, exactly?" he asked.

"It's this American show about a high school glee club, lots of drama and teen angst. The music is pretty good too."

Moriarty groaned. That sounded so...trite, exactly the type of thing she would like. "I've never seen it before...it sounds interesting!" he said, faking enthusiasm with deadly precision. Molly glanced away, biting her lip. "Well, I mean, if you wanted-I'm not saying you have to-but, you could always come by sometime and watch it..."

"Oh! That would be lovely. I mean, if you're all right with it," he said blushing and rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. She looked back at him, not really believing her ears. "You-you're serious? I mean, it won't bore you or anything. You actually want to come over?"

He grinned. "Yeah! Yeah, I'd...I'd like that," he said. Excellent; I have an 'in' now, Moriarty thought. And if worse came to worse, he'd know the layout of her home so he could terrify and/or torture and/or kill her, should he have to. But he didn't think he would. She was just so...boring.

"Well, it's on tomorrow night. We could meet for dinner or something. I'm really not much of a cook unless you like frozen meals." She smiled hesitantly, his open, trusting face really putting her at ease. Moriarty groaned; he didn't think he'd be able to stomach eating with her, so he thought up a rapid excuse. "I'm working pretty late tomorrow, I probably won't make it for dinner. What time is it on? You could give me directions to your flat and I'll meet you there," he said, his voice eager and sincere. This was just too easy.

"Oh, no worries. Uh, I'm just five blocks from the hospital. Take a right from the main entrance and go down five blocks and then a right onto that street. Third building on your left, flat 312 B. The show starts at 9pm."

"All right! Another date, then," he said, making a show of looking at his watch. "Oh, look at the time! I'm afraid I have to run. I...I guess I'll see you tomorrow, Molly. Thank you for...for all of this," he said, and, leaning in, he gave her a swift peck on the cheek before he was out the door, giving her a brief smile and a wave, as her face turned a bright crimson. Eurgh. Time to go home and peel out of this mundanity. And to take a long shower, scrub the hospital stink off of him. Molly fairly skipped home, grinning and humming to herself as she fed Toby and curled up on the sofa with her food. She had a date tomorrow, and he was coming to her!

oOoOo

Jim groaned as he walked into his lavish flat. "That was so dull," he complained as he toed off his shoes and peeled off his socks, leaving him to pad around barefoot before collapsing on the couch.

God, Boss, could you have picked a more boring target? -SM

Jim raised an eyebrow. Of course Seb was watching him. He fired off a text in response. She works with Sherlock. And the little mouse plays with the dead. A nice morbid streak. I have a hot date tomorrow at 9. -JM

That should make him jealous, he thought, grinning.

Should I be jealous? -SM

Unless you count watching 'Glee' in an apartment with a cat jealousy-inducing...- JM

Oh, fucking hell, can you say 'gack'? -SM

Done and done, Sebby. I'll have to come back to some pretty decent torture as a reward for sitting through that shite. -JM

I think I can provide you with exquisite torture that will have you screaming. -SM

Jim curled his lip. Ah, Sebby...always with the innuendos. I was talking about another person, but I'm all for that as well. -JM

There's no one in your custom dungeon or on the schedule to be there for another three days. That leaves me, and I have no intention of losing my life to you quite yet. -SM

Jim grinned, baring his teeth. Oh, that would be a sad, sweet day indeed.

Anyhow, mark is finally coming out of work. Spent hours banging his secretary. See you when I get back if you're still up. -SM

Aim true, sniper. -JM

Always. -SM