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What A Sociopath Is Made Of

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Jim Moriarty knew exactly what he was doing when he decided to plant bombs beneath the MI6 headquarters. He’d sent the email to M that had made him send Q into the building to run a program to search for an error that wasn’t there. Q was very very good at what he did, and anyone who was very good at what they did could very quickly become a very large problem for someone who relied so much on human error, like Moriarty.

What he had not expected was uncertainty. Eleven recognizable bodies. Eleven bodies identified as dead, and not a single one of them was the Quartermaster that he’d actually been trying to kill. It was a pity. Not that Jim minded that he’d taken out eleven of the staff of MI6, but the fact that the pesky youngest Holmes siblings had escaped him was frustrating. The boy, he was really a boy, barely even a man, was still missing, but hadn’t officially been declared dead just yet.


Moriarty had been staring at his phone for quite a while now, trying to decide exactly what to do with the fact that the consulting detective was actually offering information to the consulting criminal. He as one hundred and ten percent sure that it was a trap. And he was also fairly sure that it was impossible for Sherlock to have information that Moriarty didn’t have.

Then again, Sherlock had survived falling off a rather large building.

And Moriarty had survived being shot.

Perhaps it really was time to re-think career choices.


The response was instantaneous.

Oh he was good. It made Moriarty a bit giddy inside, to think that he might have met an enemy to his standards. Granted, he still had the man power and mind power to outperform Sherlock, and if it really came down to it, there was humanity in Sherlock that didn’t necessarily exist in Moriarty. Sherlock would still balk if Jim threatened Doctor John Watson or Mycroft. Also Q, though Moriarty had too much pride to actually believe that Q had escaped the blast.



And thus, Moriarty was sitting on the park bench kicking his feet like a child because he could, glancing around, observing, planning, answering phone calls and emails when a strange man sat down on the bench next to him. “Moriarty.”

Jim turned to look at him, “You’re not Sherlock.”

The man turned with a cool smile, “No, I’m not.” His smile made Moriarty nervous. That needed to be repeated, because Moriarty couldn’t quite believe it, but the way he was smiling made him nervous. “My name is Bond, James Bond.” He held out a hand.

Moriarty swallowed and shook his hand, “Moriarty, Jim Moriarty.” He said, mocking him without really mocking. No he was definitely mocking him.
“I was aware.” Bond sat back against the bench, “You blew up MI6.” He said softly.

“Oh lovely, you all have figured it out.” Moriarty put his hands together, a gleeful smile on his face, “But we had already figured that one out. You have information on the Quartermaster.”

The strange, scary smile was back, “My Quartermaster.”

Moriarty smiled, fear not registering as a real emotion, “Your Quartermaster? Oh you’re that James Bond. The one with the Quartermaster who is the Quartermaster, or was, that I tried , and probably succeeded in killing.”

“You’d like to think that.” The very Quartermaster in discussion was wandering towards him, arms tucked into the pockets of his coat. “You should have learned by now that it’s not that easy to kill a Holmes.” He smiled, hand resting on James Bond’s shoulder, “Let me introduce Mr. Bond, my partner.”

“Your…business partner? Partner in crime?” Moriarty gave a little laugh, “You can’t possibly mean romantic partner, because that’s just silly to give me such an inroad into your lives. Come on, didn’t Sherlock learn about that with John.”

“Here’s the difference between John Watson and I. I know you have three snipers placed around the park, ready to kill me if I try to kill you. There is one to the north, one to the south east and one to the west. I also know that you have not one but two getaway cars, and that doesn’t count what Sherlock has texted me while I was sitting here.” James looked up at Q and then back to Moriarty. “You get to walk away this time, Jim.” He said, “You get to walk away with your life.”

There was silence for a moment, and when Moriarty got up to walk away James reached out to grab his arm, “But I promise you, If you try to hurt Q, Sherlock, or any of the Holmes family ever again, you’ll have me to answer to. And I won’t arrange a meeting in the park where you can have people watching your back. I’m going to come at night, when you’re trying to sleep and I’m going to kill you, peel you apart layer by layer and see what a sociopath is really made of.” Bond smiled his eerie smile again, “And then I’ll take down whoever you pay to kill people you think matter to me. I’m not a Holmes, Moriarty. I’m much more dangerous.”

Moriarty yanked his arm out of Bond’s grip, “If that’s the kind of thing you have to say to make yourself feel better, I mean come on, I’m sure spending time with the Holmes brothers does have to be a little rough on the ego.” He laughed a little nervous laugh. “Goodbye, Bond, Q.” He turned to leave once again.

“I’m not kidding, Moriarty. I’m not even beginning to joke with you.”

Moriarty didn’t think he was.