Willow: This was supposed to be a ten chapter fic, tops. I hate myself sometimes. Also, fair warning, I have no experience in romantic matters such as these.

"I got you a horse this time, what more did you want?"

"You to not leave, maybe!"

"I have a job to do, and you've said before that it isn't a problem."

"You don't have any way to contact them without travelling to Israel—and nearly getting yourself and Sebastian killed, mind?"

"Oh, please, those customs officials wouldn't have killed us. Sebastian was exaggerating."

"Was not!" Sebastian's faint voice could be heard in the background, then a pause while Jim glared at him.

I sighed and tried not to throttle the phone. "Just… Hurry home, okay? We'll talk when you get here, after I've calmed down."

"You have twenty seconds to calm down." He reported. "You know I always call when I'm right here."

On cue, he and Sebastian came through the door. James was looking somewhat haggard, and Seb downright furious.

I didn't rush to him; instead I stood slowly from my spot on the stairs and crossed over to them, stopping a metre away and scowling. "Moran, you may leave." I ordered in a tone that brooked no argument.

At a nod from James, the ex-colonel left with the suitcases.

I'd had a speech planned about how dangerous it had been for him to risk an actual airport, plus how annoying it would be to have him pick apart the wedding plans Eva and I had drafted in his absence. Instead I closed the space between us and brought our lips crashing together.

Just an experiment, just a way to screw with Mycroft, just a way to climb the social ladder, just Stockholm Syndrome, not real, not real, not real, but so damn good.

Especially since he reciprocated, arms sliding around me and just resting there instead of pinning me to the wall again. He seemed more curious than passionate, his mouth exploring mine.

Shit. Shit, I'm in love with James Moriarty.

I was the one who pulled back yet again, and he smirked at me, the expression of triumph once again not meeting his eyes. I reached up and brushed my fingers over his cheek. "I'm glad you're alive, James."

"And they say I'm emotionally unstable."

"I blame your influence. I was a very well balanced person beforehand."

"Theodora," He ran a finger along my jaw and pushed back my hair, "You're insane."

"You're just figuring that out now?" I quoted with a wild half grin.

I took his hand. "SEBASTIAN! I'm taking James on a walk!" I called to the sniper.

"Make sure you clean up after him, and don't let him off his leash." He joked, poking his back in the room long enough to make sure I wasn't killing James or anything.

James, for his part, looked pretty confused. "I'm trying to track your train of thought and it's not working. Clearly it's not logical enough for me."

"Americans are so unpredictable that they're predictable, unless you're trying to track them. Then they're just unpredictable." I said drily. "Now, unless you want your suit ruined, ditch the jacket and that bloody awful skull print tie."

Don't ask when I started picking up Brit slang. Too much Doctor Who.

"You don't like the tie?" He said in mock indignation, carefully taking the jacket off ("Westwood." "I know, James." "Do you know how much—" "I'm well aware, James.") and then loosening the offending necktie.

"And the gun."

He sighed and set the gun down on the side table. I pulled my hair back and smiled at him. "Come on, James. I'm going to show you something."

X-x-X-x-X-x-X Not From the Reminiscences of Theodora Miller X-x-X-x-X-x-X

She was impossible, Jim decided. When they met, she was full of flippant remarks. Then she'd suddenly decided she didn't hate him. Then she'd started showing strange affection.

Now, she was leading by the hand through the woods and fields around the manor.

He'd seen her shoot someone for the first time, seen her hold some serious liquor and reveal her university past, seen her bouncing around like a teenager on her first date, seen her react to seeing an old friend, and even seen her work. But this? She was acting like a child out of the city for the first time.

"What are you looking at?" He asked in exasperation when she stopped dead and just beamed up at a tree.

"Look at this birch specimen," She said. "Come here."

Before he could stop her, she yanked him to the ground so he was sitting down with her. She flopped backwards onto the grass and smiled as the canopy cast fluttering shadows over her.

"You're a child."

Theodora looked at him and, like it was the simplest thing in the world, replied, "I'm in love."

"You're absolutely insane."

"I'm in love with the world's only consulting criminal, blah, blah, blah. So what? I'm a professional burglar."

"Do you realise how stupid it is to love a sociopath?"

"Then," She said, pulling Jim to the ground beside her so he had to look up at the sky too, "It's a good thing you're not a sociopath. I'd say you have ADD, ADHD, BPD, and mild schizophrenia."

"Really, all four?"

"Sure. It explains your symptoms, and why you care for me."

He could've denied it, but he couldn't see the point. There wasn't much point. Actually, this whole venture seemed pointless. "What did you want to show me? Besides a tree." Jim spat the last word as if it were the cruellest insult possible and tried to stand up.

A surprisingly strong arm snaked around his waist to pull him back, and she rolled her eyes.

"James… You get so caught up in that brain of yours that you forget to slow down and look around you. Life is just existing to normal people, and to you everything is a game. But you're missing things too, you know, in the fast lane."

"How would you know?"

"Strings of one night stands, drowning myself in work, isolated from old friends, threatening anyone who dared get in my way… For the past three years, I've been a mess. Since I got here, I've been doing a lot of just wandering around and trying to figure out what the hell I'm even thinking, loving you."

He glanced down at her. She was lost in thought again, her eyes tracing patterns in the sky as if fairies only she could see were flitting around. Theo almost seemed to be wistful.

"You think I'm going to kill you soon."

"Not quite…" She said, biting her lip. "I just feel like it'll be coming to a head soon, and I'm pretty sure when it does, I won't make it—one way or another."

Jim took one way or another to mean whether you kill me or one of the Holmes brothers do.

"And I can't help feeling like thus far, my life has been empty. It's almost as if the world finally noticed my clock is ticking down, and decided to cram as much life into the last weeks of my time as possible."

"What do you want from me?"

"Honestly, James? Nothing. You're the reason I've gotten anything out of this dull life."

He felt the arm tighten around him, and then she sighed. "I'm angst ridden tonight, aren't I? I was trying to cheer you up, you know. You looked so tired when you arrived."

"Maybe I'm in a depressive state." He said, with a hint of a smirk.

Theo laughed, rolling towards him, and then stopped suddenly. Her expression became rather drawn. "James... Why are you going through with this wedding if you plan to end the game soon?"

Willow: Sorry, the random insert of Jim's thoughts was pure Christie style; Hastings reminiscences are always interrupted by flashbacks and "meanwhile…" Just trying out a new writing style, and I was wondering how Jim saw all this.

Theo: Nice diagnoses… Gag-worthy fluff. Finally I catch on, though.

Jim: I was wondering when you'd figure it out.

Willow: Shhh, no spoilers.