With wide eyes, Sebastian lowered the rifle. "Fuck." He stared, the bang from the fired gun still echoeing in his ears. Jim had killed himself. Moriarty had fired his gun. Seb knew the idea had been occupying his boss' mind but he had had no idea that he would actually do it. Jim Moriarty was dead.
The most dangerous man of England, possibly the world, had won. The fact that victory had meant more to Jim than his own life didn't surprise Sebastian just as much as it made him feel sick. The blonde sniper had to lean forward, swallowing with closed eyes. When he didn' t feel like he was going to be sick any second, Seb stood up again to glance down. People were gathering at the foot of the building in front of him.
Sherlock Holmes had jumped and he had missed it. Jim would have killed him. The disgust suddenly turned into anger with this thought and he started to yell all sorts of unholy words and his boot kicked against the wall, the sound echoed in the silent, unoccupied hallway to stay there forever.
Jim had gone too far, he had really fucked it up this time. Seb didn't even notice the cracking sound his hand made after he had thrown a punch at the wall. He had to stuff his free hand in his mouth to muffle his yelling. The window was still open after all. They didn't even know that Jim Moriarty, the King of crime, was dead on the roof where their Sherlock Holmes had just jumped off. And Sebastian Moran himself didn't even know that that had made him the most dangerous man in London.
The King is dead, long live the King.