Hi everyone. I'm alive. And back to posting here. Hopefully regularly. First Sherlock story on , but over 170 documents on my computer that mostly won't be published.
This is not a Mormor story.
Did anyone notice that the Sebastian in the character list isn't Sebastian Moran, it's Sebastian from The Bland Banker episode. Sebastian in my story is the one that eventually works with James Moriarty, but the first few chapters are pre-Moriarty, as told by the time-thingie at the beginning of each chapter.
If that makes sense...
Anywho...
Disclaimers: I don't own Sherlock. I'm American and this isn't brit-picked. Not beta'd either.
Feel free to make constructive comments, suggestions for situations, or point out things I messed up, or just say you like it!
Follow/favorite if you want.
GracefulDancingWolf
Thirteen years before Moriarty. (Sebastian age 30, Devon age 3)
If his client hadn't insisted on picture proof of the bodies, Sebastian would never have found her.
A raven-haired angel of a child with dark blue eyes and a button nose.
When he'd found her, she was playing in the puddle of blood from the two corpses: wetting her hands and making handprints on the bodies while giggling softly.
"What are you doing?" Sebastian asked her, squatting enxt to her to snap a picture of the bullet wound in the head of the woman.
"Hands!" She chirped cheerfully, looking up at Sebastian. She was only a few years old, judging by the way she spoke.
"I see. But what are you doing? Where are your parents?" He snapped a picture of the man and sent both to the client.
"Mama." She pointed to the female victim and Seb realized why she was here, "Dada." She pointed to the male, who had her dark hair and eyes, "Debon." She pointed to herself and saw something on Sebastian that made her smile, "Tiger. Rawr!" She pointed a bloody hand at his chest, where a tiger tattoo was peeked from his shirt.
Sebastian looked at the bodies and felt something new in his gut.
Guilt.
He'd taken this little angel…little child's parents away from her.
When he didn't respond immediately to her mimicry of a tiger, Devon went back to making handprints on the bodies, sitting back as if to admire the red against the white of her mother's shirt, "Devon?" Sebastian's voice called her attention back to him, "Devon, come here." She got up and toddled over to him, ignoring the blood that soaked her socks. Sebastian peeled those off of her feet when she reached him and slid her bare feet into her shoes, "Can you say Seb?" He carried her to what he assumed was her room and collected clothing for her with one hand, "Come on, say Seb."
"Seb." She nodded, "Tiger. Rawr!" She tapped his chest with her hand and he grimaced at the blood. Well…there was a back door to this building. He could take her out that way. He carried her to his hotel room and set her on the bed, not sure why he had brought her with.
"Gun!" She pointed at Sebastian's rifle as he started putting it away, "Bang." She giggled as Sebastian smiled at her, "Tiger. Rawr!"
"Yes. A tiger goes rawr." Sebastian shook his head. She was a child. And he'd just taken her from her home. Not that it had been much of a home.
"Seb?" She sat down on the bed and blinked her dark eyes at him.
"Yes, Devon?"
"Ah." She pointed at her mouth and Sebastian understood she was hungry.
"Let me see." He grabbed the room service menu from the dresser and scanned it for a kid's meal that would satisfy her appetite, "Chicken?"
"Pasta?" She chirped, her wide eyes flicking over Sebastian's face.
"Pasta it is then." He called the front desk and ordered a small plate of pasta and a rare-cooked steak for himself. While they waited, Sebastian cleaned the blood off Devon's hands and got her a clean shirt to wear from the bag of clothing he'd collected. Her jeans were dark enough the dried blood didn't show, and even if it did, he wasn't going to let whoever brought his food up see her anyways. He just didn't like the idea of staring at a bunch of blood splattered butterflies while they ate. Cupcakes were still childishly stupid, but not blood-splattered.
When they had finished their meal, Devon yawned and reached for Sebastian. He tensed as she slid her arms around his neck and settled her face against his collarbone after giving him a kiss on the cheek.
For the longest time he sat stiff as a board, listening to her breathe.
He could snap her neck and be done with it.
Never see her again.
Never deal with her again.
But he found he couldn't.
Instead he combed his finger through her dark curls, promising himself he'd buy a hairbrush in the morning, along with non-cutesy clothing.
He brought his hands up to her joined ones and pulled her off of him and settled her on the bed. He'd take the floor and then they'd be gone tomorrow morning, back to his flat in London.
Sebastian woke in the middle of the night to Devon curling up next to him on the floor, using his jacket as a blanket and his arm as a pillow. When he saw the tear streaks down her face, he found he didn't have the heart to tell her to move, and pulled her closer instead.