Chapter 1

Jim Moriaty stood in awe at the towering machine just a few feet in front of him. Running his hand over its cold metal exterior lovingly, and letting his mind fill with possibilities, he wondered at his own intelligence. Ignoring the other people in the room and instead focussing on his most recent delight, Jim found himself anxious to show his new toy to someone who would appreciate its beauty; unlike the imbeciles he surrounded himself with on a day-to-day basis. He knew without looking that they were all staring at him, waiting for an order, and growing more impatient with every second. They meant little to Jim, and he made sure they knew it. They were just hired guns to do his dirty work for him, and would never understand the childish glee that Jim got from the large and exciting machine in the room. There was not one man in the group who would match even half of Jim's genius, so there was little question as to who would give the orders. Occasionally one of his men would dare to disagree with him, having not heard the rumours or choosing to ignore them. Jim made sure to kill, or at least maim, these imbeciles not only to keep his men fearful of him, but because he enjoyed it. He loved to watch their eyes fill with terror and pain as they slowly bled out on the floor next to him; it was the highlight of his day. That was something his employees would never understand, along with why this machine was so important to him. It didn't really concern him, he didn't need them to understand, only to wait and receive his orders. They could wait a few more minutes while he finished admiring his invention.
He had never expected anything to come from his ideas, and yet here it was, the greatest invention mankind had seen since the first light bulb. He longed to test his wonderful invention right there and then, however the timing was not yet right, and the plan still needed to be finalised. There had been a plan in his mind from the beginning, but since the machine had finally taken shape and his wildest dreams had come true, Jim found himself uncertain.
The original plan had been to test the machine on Sherlock, however after careful consideration, he realised that this would be very predictable and therefore so very boring. And Jim Moriaty was never, ever boring.
So he had let his mind wander with thoughts and ideas of other possible scenarios, and had finally come across one which may turn out quite interesting, with the right subtle hints and a considerable amount of good acting. Yes, he mused, a smirk forming on his pale face, his onyx eyes dancing with an inner light that only shone during his most exciting endeavours. Sherlock was such an obvious choice since they shared so many traits, but how about another player in the ongoing game? Someone close to Sherlock, so close he would never expect it... And ultimately, surprise him like no one had ever done before. To leave the emotionless sociopath completely speechless would certainly be a challenge. But Jim loved challenges, games, really anything that would allow his intelligent brain to find an overly elaborate and complicated solution. The more thinking and planning to be done, the more Jim loved it. That was why he had revelled so much in other games he had put forward to the younger Holmes brother, they had been deliciously complicated and so very satisfying.
He'd known all along how both were going to end, right down to Sherlock's apparent "suicide" and Jim's taking his own life. Of course, the blood had been fake for that, which he was surprised Sherlock had not picked up on, though he couldn't blame him considering the situation the poor man had been forced into. Obviously Jim knew that Sherlock's suicide had been faked too, had known since the beginning of that night that the detective had been planning it. The only sure way to keep his friends safe and allow him to hunt the snipers down without the added attention caused by Jim's little game. He had hunted Jim's snipers down with a cold malice, and had killed every one of them without breaking a sweat. It had only taken him a year before he returned to his apartment on Baker Street and resumed his life where he'd left it. There was little fuss from the media thanks to Sherlock's older brother Mycroft, and after the first few awkward months with John, life had simply continued smoothly.
Jim had kept himself out of the way, and so far the detective had suspected nothing. That would soon change, but for now Jim was perfectly happy to let the duo continue their lives in ignorant bliss. A bliss that would soon take an unexpected turn for the worst. Jim grinned and turned to face the collection of gunmen and criminals he'd acquired over the last couple of months.
"Gentlemen, gather your stuff. The game starts now," Jim said. "First up to roll the dice is a certain Doctor John Watson, who I should very much like brought back here completely unharmed. Am I making myself completely clear?" There were a few nods from the group before they retreated from the room to gather their equipment, leaving Jim alone with the machine. He turned to face it again and let his smirk grow into a full grin as he watched the reflection of his face in the shiny exterior of the machine. Now all he had to do was wait. The doctor would never know what hit him.