He'd been lost before the consulting criminal had found him and taken
him under his wing. He had nothing until that man came into his life.
And now everything he did was for that man, and for that man alone. He
no longer cared about doing things for himself, it was pointless. He
belonged to the spider, and he would do anything necessary to make him
happy. He owed him that much, at least.
So when the job came about with the bombs, and the consulting detective,
he made no move to question the motives or consequences that his boss
was getting them into. He made no move to sway him of the plan, and went
alone, no questions asked. He loved these sort of little games, the
kind where people's lives were in the balance. Good vs. Evil. But were
they really evil? And was the consulting detective really good?
He didn't even question his boss when he was told little but a position
that he was supposed to be in. He was given coordinates, and one
objective: If the detective did not jump, shoot the doctor. Simple
enough. This game was easy. Either the detective would die, or his
precious doctor would. There was no way out of this one and there was no
chance of anything backfiring.
Except it did.
It did backfire.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sebastian climbed the building, rifle bag at his back, a sharky grin
plastered on his eager face. He was excited for this round. Everything
they had been planning and working for came to this, and Jim must have
had some big idea in mind, what with the sort of objective his men had
been given.
He stopped at the top before taking out his rifle, his thought trail
stuck on the kiss his boss had bestowed upon him before they had
departed from the flat this morning. It was not unusual for the man to
be spontaneous, he was always that. But...this kiss was different than
others they'd shared in the past. It wasn't a tease, it wasn't a joke.
It was...almost an apology. But an apology for what? He couldn't quite
puzzle it out and something wasn't settling right in his stomach with
the look in the man's eyes before they parted ways to go about this
final game.
Quickly, the sniper set up his rifle, setting the bag to the side for
cleanup afterwards. He knelt down, peeking through his scope, trying to
see what was going on.
His boss stood on the roof opposite, the roof of St. Bart's hospital.
The detective had yet to arrive, but Sebastian assumed it would only be a
matter of time now. He felt a buzz in his pocket and pulled out his
phone.
'Hey Tiger. You ready for the last act? -JM'
Sebastian chuckled lightly at the pet-name Jim had become fond of using
with him, especially in text and around the other men, to make them even
more uncomfortable than they already were.
'Always, boss. You know me. -SM'
He set his phone down carefully, checking for any movement, nothing yet. Nearly time though, it must be.
'Our friends will be joining us shortly. Be prepared. You know your orders. Do nothing else. Understood? -JM'
Sebastian carefully read the message and he set his jaw firmly. Jim was
serious now, that meant that there were things going on that he wasn't
privy too, which was always dangerous.
'Boss, I don't know what sort of game you're intending to play, but don't do anything rash. -SM'
He almost added 'please' to his last message, but what would that have
done? If his boss was set on doing something, no amount of pleading or
begging or warning would do anything to sway him from what he thought he
needed to do. When Jim Moriarty had his mind set, there was usually no
going back. ...except when he was in his /moods/.
'I know what I'm doing 'Bastian. Do not question me. Ever. Now be a good
pet and get ready. I hear Sir Boast-a-Lot coming up the steps now. -JM'
Sebastian read the text and couldn't help but chuckle at the fairy tale
name that Jim had created for the detective. He peeked through the
scope, setting his phone down, not hearing it buzz again. Things were
starting now. The detective and Jim were talking, though Sebastian
couldn't make out the words. They seemed to be arguing. There was a
moment where all seemed to be going well, the detective stepped towards
the edge--
but then things got bad.
Really bad.
He could see it in Jim's eyes. His usually veiled emotions, the fear
that could be seen through the sniper's scope. Could the detective see
it too?
And then, before Sebastian could even react, there was a gun, a wicked grin and
BANG
The world seemed to go in slow motion as the man fell. The most
brilliant man the world had ever known, his signature adder grin on his
face as he fell back, going down...down...and then it was over.
Sebastian was frozen. He couldn't move away, all he could do was watch.
Watch as his whole world turned upside down and inside out. The
detective was shocked, it was obvious. He stepped to the edge, away from
the now lifeless form of James Moriarty. He pulled out his mobile, most
likely to call the doctor, and of course, as always, he was there.
Sebastian spotted the loyal doctor getting out of a cab on the street
just below. They spoke, the two of them, saying their goodbyes, he
expected, as he had not been able to say his own.
The detective said something, what it was, the sniper did not know, and
then he threw his phone to the roof behind him and took the step over
the edge, falling, flailing, to his own demise upon the pavement below.
And now, the doctor would know the sniper's pain. Of losing that which
is closest to your heart. Though neither had known of these feelings
previous to losing that which caused them.
And while Dr. John Watson rushed to the side of his fallen angel,
Sebastian Moran packed up his rifle, stuffed his phone in his pocket and
rushed to find his fallen devil.
The climb up the fire escape was difficult. Not that his rifle was
heavy, or hard to climb with, but that his feelings were weighing him
down. His sense of loss, and betrayal. He reached the top, and climbed
over the edge, closing his eyes quickly to fight back the tears that had
been burning there since he started his climb. As he opened his eyes,
his vision blurred, but he could make out the figure of his boss, laying
on the rooftop, gun still in his one hand, pool of blood surrounding
him.
"You'd hate this." he murmured to the motionless body on the ground.
"One good thing about you being dead I suppose...You can't complain
about the blood on your Westwood..." he whispered, falling to his knees
and cradling the man's head in his lap.
'One last thing Tiger... I should have told you, but I knew you wouldn't
play along if I had. This is the end of our story. Our last chapter.
I'm going to die up there today, on that roof. And you won't be able to
save me this time. I love you 'Bastian. -JM x'
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