Loki reclined with his boot-clad feet propped on the coffee table in Jim's apartment, swirling the contents of his wine glass slowly in circles.
"Why, exactly, should I be helping you, James?" He voiced the question with an air of importance, as if merely speaking with this man was beneath him.
"Ah, Loki, I thought we were better friends than to ask such questions?" The other man replied, raising his brows over a steaming cup of tea.
"I don't have friends." Loki said with a sneer. James Moriarty rolled his eyes and set his tea down, leaning back to make himself comfortable.
"Maybe it is because I know something no one else does. A secret of yours, if you will."
"Oh?" This seemed to entertain the God of Mischief. Jim's mouth twisted in a smirk as he then leaned forward, whispering his knowledge so quietly that Loki almost didn't catch it. His smile darkened and the staff that never left his other hand began to glow. "Do you know that mundane saying about secrets, my friend?" Loki asked, moving gracefully forward until he was nose-to-nose with Jim. "Two can keep a secret, if one of them is dead."
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Jim would have loved to play his little game with Sherlock longer, but Loki figured he could solve both of his current problems at once, playing his own game. Controlling James Moriarty, he caused a double-suicide...or so he thought...
