''Double, double, toil and trouble,

Fire burn and cauldron bubble,

Double, double, toil and trouble,

Something wicked this way comes''

The song was ringing through the halls and in Moriarty's head, un-identified instruments casting a spell over him, the flow of the music seeping into his brain through his ears, coating his thoughts in awe and confusion.

Ah. Confusion.

He shook his head, his thoughts breaking free and blocked his ears, keeping out theenchanting music. Those weirdos in robes were probably involved in this. He startedwalking faster through the dark hallways of the abandoned manor, walls black with dirt and dust and coal, the very little heating still provided by chimneys. Each step wascausing the wood under his feet to creak. There was going the hope of taking the man by surprise. He reached the end of the hallway and looked up at the door he was was tall, enough for a 8 foot man, and wide enough for a wheelchair and a half. It wasmade of dark, heavy wood, engraved with strange circles and lines, symboles Moriartyhad never seen before. The man on the other side of the door spoke, and the consulting criminal clenched his teeth.

-Come in Jim, I'm waiting for you..

It was a singy-song voice, amused in a very dark way that made Moriarty's stomach churn, both in fear and in disgust of having to serve that man. Moriarty never served anyone, but him, he was so much more powerful than the little consulting criminal, he knew so much more, he was so much more dangerous... He took a deep breath and pushed the doors, who creaked in protest. There he was, sat in a victorian styled armchair, the back of the chair tall enough for his head to rest on it, the right side of it was showingto the door.

-Nice thing, music. How easy it is to change someone's mind with a handful of notes,

with the sound of a drum...

He sounded nostalgic, and Moriarty knew better than asking more. The consulting criminal could only see half of the man's face, shadowed by the fire in the chimney on the wall opposite to the door, about 10 feet away, on the left side of the man. The room was empty, except for the man, the chimney, the rug, and Moriarty. He could see outline of the man, who had his chin resting on his hands, one wrapped around theother, balled in a fist. There was silence, and the man turned to the criminal.

-Jim.

It was a cold, hard greeting, but also an order. Anger burned in Moriarty's body as he knelt down, one knee resting on the dirty floor and eyes looking down.

-Master.