Finally! This is the last chapter of Profiling International. It took a lot of work to get here. I'd like to thank Ashley for her betas on later chapters, and Tree_Peony as well with earlier chapters. I'd also like to thank everyone who commented, gave kudos and subscribed and also for the constructive criticism (which has led me to conclude I really need someone to Brit pick my next story). See end of chapter notes for a special announcement.

As he'd promised, Reid was on the roof of Bart's three hours later. Beforehand, he'd made sure that John had arrived safely at the Diogenes Club and called Hotch and Garcia. He informed them he was done, and they got him a ticket back to the US on the next available flight. Reid thought it likely he would not be using it.

He had packed his things at the hotel and left a letter for Lestrade, telling the clerk the inspector would probably be by for it at some time in the next 48 hours. He stopped by a pub for roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, surprised at how much he ended up liking it. He topped it off with a pint and felt it was quite good.

Even with the delay, he still arrived at Bart's early, and Reid looked out on the cityscape. He fiddled with his phone, deciding to do one more thing. He sent a text message to the mystery helper that said simply, "Thank you for your help."

He got a text back immediately. "I'll be there soon."

Reid was puzzled, but he didn't have the time to contemplate what this meant, as he heard someone clapping. He looked up to see a short, thin man in a suit was coming towards him. It was Jim Moriarty.

He had his hands in his pockets and was strolling up to Reid as though nothing were wrong. "Dr. Reid. So nice to see you in person," said Moriarty, smirking at him. "Look at you, all grown up now!"

Reid knitted his eyebrows in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"When I first started following your career, you were a little boy playing federal agent. It was so cute! Even your clothes screamed child play-acting at being an adult. And now you're a grown man… Invading my territory." He wasn't smiling anymore. He was slightly slack jawed and glaring. He should have looked ridiculous. Instead, he reminded Reid of a mad dog, and it was frightening. "You come here, all the way from America, and think you can undo my work. Think that you, a skinny little boy who belongs in academia and not the field, can profile me."

Reid felt a thrill of fear go down his spine, but, in spite of this, he nodded. "I did profile you. And I know that profile is correct."

"And what's it say about me, eh? Genius, mad criminal?"

"Among many other things."

Moriarty laughed. "I'd love to hear it, but I am a busy man and I want to make this quick. Put the bag on the ground and step up on the ledge."

Reid shook his head. "No."

Moriarty sighed, annoyed. "Are you going to make me threaten you again? Or was I not clear enough when I said that the lives of your friends and dear old mother are on the line?"

"It won't do you any good," Reid replied. "I've already made copies of everything. I did so the night you dropped me off at the hotel. And you did have a pretty good tail on me… But never underestimate a magician's ability to disappear."

"Are you trying to match wits with me?" Moriarty asked, and he laughed, rocking his head back as he did so. "Oh my God, that's so cute! I can find the copies and destroy those as well."

"No, you can't. Because by now, they're already in the hands of New Scotland Yard, the Secret Service here and in America, the FBI, the CIA, and countless other law enforcement agencies. I didn't take any chances. There are so many copies bouncing around the globe that you won't be able to destroy them all. The same with the profile, and the evidence that Richard Brook is a fake. Not to mention, the top tech analysts in the Yard and FBI are on your trail. They'll not only prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that you're Moriarty, they'll use the information to completely destroy your operation."

Moriarty's face darkened, and he said, "You're making your death even more necessary. And this little show of bravado just means your loved ones are gonna die. Slowly and painfully." He was still glaring, stepping closer to Reid as he went on. "I've stopped trying to convince people like you to back off. I gave Sherlock the same chance I gave you, and he didn't take it. Aaaaand, I burned him, gave him a fall. Now, I'm going to do the same to you."

"No, you're not," a voice rang out. Moriarty froze; his eyes wide. He turned, looking completely stunned.

Sherlock Holmes stood there, alive and well. Reid smiled, while Moriarty appeared to be horrified. "Are you all right, Dr. Reid?" Sherlock asked.

"Yes, you got here just in time," said Reid.

"Excellent. And I'm sure you solved everything."

"Of course."

Sherlock turned to Moriarty. "I suppose it's only fair to tell you, I didn't see a reason to actually kill myself when it was so fantastically clear that you never would. Not even to finally win over me." Sherlock pulled a gun, as did Reid, and both aimed at Moriarty. "Tell me, how much prodding did it take to get Sgt. Donovan to give that story to the BBC?"

Moriarty smirked. "About the same amount of prodding it took for her to think you were the one who kidnapped the ambassador's children. Very little." Something flashed in Reid's eye just then, and he stilled.

He wasn't the least bit surprised to find there was a red light right over his heart. Another was on Sherlock. "I have the strangest feeling of déjà vu!" laughed Moriarty, tossing his hands into the air gleefully. "It's giving me chills!"

Reid had expected the Mexican standoff, and he said, "We don't have to do this, if you come along quietly."

"You are simply adorable Dr. Reid! And I do like the idea of killing two birds with one stone."

"You won't have the chance. Not if you want Sebastian Moran to stay free," replied Sherlock. The side of his mouth had twisted up into a confident smirk.

The laughter abruptly died, and Moriarty raised an eyebrow at Sherlock. "He's fine. Ready to take out Agent Hotchner any moment now."

"No. See someone tipped off the BAU. Moran is about to walk right into a trap." Sherlock replied. "And given a few hours, I'm sure they'll be able to locate all the witnesses and employees of your web in America. Since he isn't as clever as you, he'll have a list somewhere, more than likely on his person."

"If he goes down, so does Diana Reid," Moriarty growled.

"My mother has been in protective custody since your men tried to mug me. Hotch insisted. When he told me he was taking precautions while I was in your cab, it was confirming that he had her somewhere safe," Reid explained.

Moriarty looked annoyed now. "We'll have to call this a draw then. To be continued. And see you two in the States!" He left the roof, and once he was gone, the red lights vanished from their chests.

Reid turned to Sherlock. "We've got to go after him."

"He'll be long gone by now, it would be a waste of time." Sherlock sat on the edge of the roof, and Reid joined him, his legs feeling like jelly. That had been almost as bad as Chester Hardwicke threatening to rip Reid and Hotch apart. Almost.

"I thought you cut it a bit close."

"Took a bit longer than I thought it would to contact your team," Sherlock explained. He'd put his own gun away by now. "Did you intentionally lead him to John?"

"His location was compromised the minute that Mycroft told me where he was. I was going to insist he leave the building after I met him, but since he thought of it himself, I didn't have to."

"Wise decision, on both your parts. When did you know it was me?"

"I suspected something was up when you picked me up in the cab. Your homeless drunk disguise was very good, by the way. And your desk clerk. John never realized it was you?"

"No, as ever, he sees but does not observe. Also, I'd only recently taken over the position."

"Cloning your brother's cell phone was a bit reckless," Reid pointed out.

"It was. However, it was the most secure number in England. Until your Penelope Garcia traced it back. I'm sure Mycroft is very put out by this."

That made Reid laugh. "Good point. Hello, by the way. It's nice to meet you Mr. Holmes." Reid offered his hand to the detective.

Sherlock shook his hand. "And you, Dr. Reid. We'd best get going, don't you think?"

"Going?" Reid asked. Sherlock had gotten up by this time, and he helped Reid to stand.

"Yes. Mycroft made arrangements with your Agent Hotchner about an hour ago. While he isn't thrilled, they both believe my expertise will be needed."

"So you're coming back to America with me then."

"Yes, wasn't that obvious?"

"Not when you don't state clearly what you're referring to, no. But if Moriarty is behind these deaths in New Jersey, we need all the help we can get. Your expertise will be invaluable. Not to mention his obsession with you. It runs deep enough that he'll make a mistake somewhere."

"Yes, about that," Sherlock said, turning to face Reid. They'd both stopped walking by this time. "You've managed to fight him to a draw, on your own terms. While you had help, it's enough to have earned his ire. He'll be fixated on you as well now." He raised an eyebrow at Reid. "Can you handle it?"

"Yes," said Reid, with no hesitation.

"I hope for your sake, you're right." Sherlock smirked. "Now, I believe we have a plane to catch."

THE END

To be continued in The Game is On: Profiling International 2. Coming in March 2013.
Unless that Mayan apocalypse thing happens, then no it won't be.