Moriarty was disconcerted when he woke, not between the sheets of his own bed but instead, sitting straight up and restrained. He opened his eyes and peered around the drab, gray room, he was in. It was completely barren except for the bare metal chair he was tied to and the window in front of him. It showed a large dark empty room with an empty metal chair directly opposite his. The situation was entirely dull except for the gag; the gag was momentarily interesting but ultimately annoying.

"James Moriarty," Sherlock's voice resonated throughout the room as Sherlock walked from behind him and turned to face him. There was a striking look of prideful satisfaction on his face that Jim just wanted to rip off and laminate, so he could see it forever. Sherlock's eyes flicked over Jim's bound form and then back to his eyes.

"Or should I say James Clement disappeared from Sussex in 1989, two days before Carl Powers' untimely death, everyone assumed he'd run away, well with his home life, no one was exactly surprised. And you were only thirteen, tch, started young, well we both did so…After that, James Clement disappears from the map but from there others pop up: Edward Rue, 1989-1992, London, Phillip Gramercy, 1992-1997, York, Henry Stewart, 1997-2001, Birmingham, then there's a brief gap between 2001 and 2006, while I guess it would take some time to set up a criminal network and of course, the reputation, but then you reappear as one Richard Brooke, 2006-2009, and finally, James "Jim" Moriarty from IT, London again. Big fan of the Royalty aren't you?" Sherlock said with a smirk and dropping every name Jim had had since he'd first dropped his own. Jim tried to ignore the cold beads of sweat dripping down his neck as Sherlock Holmes demonstrated more knowledge of his life than anyone ever had. Jim wished the gag was gone, wished he could retort, could prove that he didn't care about anything, much less what Sherlock Holmes could find out. But he couldn't, Sherlock had taken away his ability to answer, had muted him, and it was driving Jim crazy…er… crazier…more crazy, an unusually quiet part of Jim's brain dissolved into frantic giggles.

Sherlock's voice brought Jim out of that place in his mind.

"Really, James, what could a boy younger than you could possibly have done, but maybe it was your funny accent that James, Edward, Phillip, Henry, Richard, and "Jim" couldn't quite shake. You, the funny little boy, smaller than the others, who spoke in a weird way, hmm, I guess I could imagine it." Sherlock said, watching Moriarty's eyes fill with hatred at the casual disregard.

"But," Sherlock continued, "This isn't about your past, this is about promises made and broken. Ah, Jim, we were going to have such fun together, a whispered name, a shadowed "M", just the finest traces, and then you started your little game." Sherlock started circling him, razor sharp gaze never stopping in picking Jim apart. And Jim was feeling a cold terror that he had never felt in his life, rage was a familiar friend, fear was something new and terrible.

"You started this game with a bomb," Sherlock sneered, face curled with derision, "not elegance, not precision but a bomb, messy and imprecise, oh and then the puzzles themselves!" And Sherlock was a whirl around the room, filled with manic energy and the deep frustration of disappointment.

"I mean, you basically pointed out your origin, and then to show up in the lab like a common killer phoning the tip line. Let's not forget the hints, the simplicity of the puzzles, and oh yes, the repetition! I wanted to avoid boredom not get a crash course in inducing it." Sherlock was yelling at this point, screaming into Jim's face but his eyes remained as calm and as sharp as even. Jim watched in terror-struck fascination at his man he had rightly obsessed over.

Then it stopped, and in an instant, Sherlock pulled himself back to standing right in front of Moriarty, his face was set and angry, and his voice low and controlled.

"Then, you did something unforgivable; you took something that was mine. John Watson is mine and you took him and made him into a puppet and that "Jim" is what has brought you to this place." Sherlock said and now his countenance turned cruel. Jim was in awe, Sherlock was everything he could have hoped for and more. And the more Sherlock spoke, the more Jim's rational fear was tamped down under insane glee at gaining this much attention and this much entertainment because he was so…not…bored.

Sherlock watched as the last traces of fear were whittled away from Mr. Moriarty, until all that was left was enraptured interest, and smiled; 'Now it was time to truly begin.'

"I…shall be more gracious than you were. I have not touched your criminal network and you shall not be bored. These are two courtesies which you did not extend to me, so you should appreciate them." Sherlock looked at him and Jim couldn't resist nodding, still gleeful at the attention and at seeing Sherlock work. Sherlock observed this, noted it, and continued.

"I will be conducting a number of experiments in that room," Here Sherlock indicated the large room apparent through the window, "you will observe and after I finish, I will return and investigate a phrase that John introduced me to, though I cannot remember from where. The phrase is, "to the pain" and I'd very much like to see if it is all it claims to be." Sherlock smiled.

"It should prove to be a very interesting day and not boring for anyone." With that and a satisfied smile, Sherlock left the room, leaving Moriarty to wonder excitingly over what was to come.

Over the next several hours, Moriarty watched, in apt attention, both Sherlock's experiments and the good doctor's reactions. Jim couldn't help but feel highly satisfied at the fates of those police people who had restricted and mistreated Sherlock though he was disappointed when Sherlock's brother took the last one away before his end. Then, Jim was eagerly waiting to see what wonder happens next and whether Sherlock would deal with his doctor or if his magnificent attention would return to Jim. Jim was filled with shivers of anticipation at the thought and watched and waited eagerly.

Jim felt the first shimmer of apprehension when Sherlock and the doctor just kept talking, then, when Sherlock moved and began to untie the doctor, it escalated into full-out dread. But, there was nothing Jim could do but watch as the pet snapped Sherlock's pretty neck and stopped his flow of words. And even, as the pet said some sentimental words over Sherlock's corpse, Jim could already feel himself growing bored, stuck in a drab little room, in a world without Sherlock Holmes.