Disclaimer: Black Books and Sherlock and its respective characters belong to the BBC.

Summary: Bernard is closed for the day. Two unexpected customers don't really care though.

Chronology: None.

Pairings: None.

Author's Note: A one-shot crack fic involving Bernard from Black Books and Moriarty. One-shot written for Eva.

Bernard and Moriarty

The bell rang above the door at the Black Books shop.

"Shop's closed." Yelled Bernard, without looking up from his desk.

"Now, now. You don't have time for a customer?" a smooth voice inquired.

"I wouldn't have time for the Queen. Shop's closed. Out." Bernard repeated, quickly standing up out of his chair.

Bernard heard the sound of a cocking gun and then felt the cold metal pressed against the back of his head. He quickly raised his hands in the air. "I surrender! Take anything you want! I don't have any money, I mean, if I did, would I really be working in a place like this. I suppose you could take my books, they aren't worth that much, but-"

"Shut up." The suited man said. He smoothed his jacket before speaking. "I don't want to kill you. If I did, Seb here would have done it already." Bernard turned to look behind him, but the metal pressing into his skull stopped him. "Now, I need your lovely little…shop for a bit. It's a great vantage point, and I also need a change of scenery."

"Sure you do Jim." The voice behind Bernard said. "Do we really have to hole up here?"

"What's wrong with here?" Bernard protested. "It's a nice shop. I've got books and I live in the back, and there aren't really any customers usually-"

"Shut. Up." Jim said through gritted teeth. "Seb, if we don't stay here, we won't be able to catch you-know-who and then the last three months will have been for nothing."

"Three?" Seb scoffed.

"Alright. Four." Seb raised an eyebrow. "Fine. Six."

"Can I put my hands down now?" Bernard trembled.