This is my first attempt at writing Moriarty/Moran so apologies if anyone is OOC. Also, I've been having some formatting issues (what can I say? Microsoft Office detests me) so if anything doesn't make sense, I'm sorry.

I already have most of this story written so I'll just be gradually uploading it chapter by chapter ^-^

Disclaimer: They're not mine. I'm just messing about in someone else's sandbox, dreaming of taking over

Anyway, enjoy!

Sebastian Moran wasn't too sure what his boss required him to do this time, other than the fact that it was apparently 'urgent' and he would do best to bring his rifle. Then again, that hardly differed from any of his other assignments so he could deal with that. He could also deal with the fact that Jim was now dancing around him with the air of an excited five year old, muttering happily to himself and rubbing his hands together gleefully because that was just Jim all over and he wouldn't be the same without that. When it came to Jim, Sebastian could and would deal with anything.

"Sebby!" Jim declared in delight, halting mid stride and staring up at his sniper, grin plastered on his face. "I have a job for you!"

Sebastian had to resist the urge to roll his eyes and say "I never would have guessed". Thank god one of the perks of working for Moriarty was a strong sense of self preservation...

"Sherlock's ignoring me again, Seb. I don't like being ignored." Okay, he would have to amend his earlier statement; there was one thing he couldn't deal with and that was Sherlock bloody Holmes and his stupid fucking curly haired head that had Jim obsessing. Sherlocked indeed... The number of times Sebastian had dreamt of putting a bullet through the self proclaimed consulting detective's forehead - that was on his good days mind - and removing the only obstacle that stood between himself and his boss. But Jim would kill him; Jim would never forgive him for disposing of the one man he viewed as a worthy adversary; Jim would never love him...

"Seb? Sebastian! Are you even listening?" Moriarty looked pissed, expression hinting that Seb had just made the wrong move in ignoring him. So as not to offend him anymore, the sniper dutifully nodded, if a bit more listlessly than usual. For some reason this prompted a rare display of concern from the consulting criminal, one hand stretching out to rest on Sebastian's forehead. "You're not ill, are you?" Jim asked with a frown, withdrawing the hand suspiciously. "How are you supposed to shoot if you're ill?" Of course; he was only worried in case Sebastian wasn't able to perform his duties. He only mattered up until the point where he outlived his usefulness whilst Sherlock...Sherlock held a place in Jim's heart indefinitely. A lesser man might have shown some form of reaction to this very obvious rejection; Seb merely pulled his mask closer around himself and maintained his neutral expression. "I'm well, sir."

"Now now Sebby! I told you to call me Jim! Sir sounds so old! Now get your head back into the game; it's time to ensure Sherlock has attention only for me. I want you to take out John Watson."

Surprise, surprise. First it was kidnap, now it was kill. What was going to be next; necrophilia? He shuddered suddenly; knowing Jim, that was entirely possible. The mastermind had more to add, having failed to notice the sniper's momentary slip up in the midst of his excitement.

"Make it cold and calculated, executioner style. Make the death of John Watson a forgettable unimportant death that will quickly slip from the minds of the public and leave nothing but a tombstone. I want Sherlock to care for me and only me." Jim's voice was so level as he declared this, so sane it would have been frightening to anyone else but this was Sebastian Moran; he had seen a lot worse. And only he could have the nerve to fall in love with a psychopath.

"I'll see what I can do, Jim." The perfect soldier; compliant and loyal, never flinching or questioning orders. Absolutely not filled with despair about a love he knows will always be unrequited. Satisfied, Jim left without a word.

~~~linebreak~~~

That was how Sebastian came to be sitting on a roof in torrential rain, holding himself a miniature pity party and just sulking in general as he overlooked Baker Street. Truth be told, there had been at least five different opportunities in the last three hours at which he had had a clear view of John Watson but he couldn't bring himself to take the shot because that would mean resigning himself to the fact that, as long as Sherlock Holmes was alive, he was always going to be second best in Jim's world. But with John Watson around, there was at least someone to ensure Sherlock himself didn't mirror Jim's obsession; there was someone there to ensure that Jim at least remembered Sebastian existed.

God... He was acting so pathetic, like some scorned lover... Which he supposed he was. In his own oddly twisted way, Sebastian was strangely grateful when the icy muzzle of the pistol dug into his temple and the chilling voice coldly instructed him."Away from the gun or we'll be finding out whether or not there is anything resembling a brain in there."

Absentmindedly, the sniper considered all the possible ways of disarming his foe, wondering if it would even be worth it in the long run. A few bruises wouldn't make much difference, surely? Maybe take the insufferable so called 'genius' down a few pegs... Mouth clamped together, Sebastian turned to face his enemy, expression giving nothing away and eyes cold and empty. This time round, he'd be good; he would keep both his hands and rifle to himself and not attempt to decapitate the infuriatingly smug detective. It seemed his emotions had other intentions though. Never before had he known such intense hatred as that which assaulted him now with the curly haired menace gazing down at him so disdainfully and the thundering rain soaking him to the bone.

"I'll give you 10 seconds to start explaining why your crosshairs have been trained on John Watson for the last few hours or I make assumptions and deal with it accordingly."Sherlock Holmes declared smoothly, flicking the safety off and making it all too clear that this was no bluff. Huh; who would have known? The menace did care about someone after all. Slowly, Sebastian bit down on his lip in one last ditch attempt at maintaining his sense of calm... It failed. Jim was going to kill him for this show of weakness later on.

"And why should I? What's to stop me from turning this rifle round and blowing you off the roof?" the sniper growled, earning himself a derisive chuckle from the detective.

"If it came to that, I am confident that there would be a bullet through the inside of your skull before you could so much as move. God...You people are all the same, aren't you? Fooling yourselves into delusions of self importance and intelligence; you are aware that you're nothing more than hired muscle; a disposable soldier? You mean nothing to him." The detective didn't even need to specify who "he" was for it to achieve the required impact and Sebastian looked away, feeling sick at having the cold iron truth so cruelly shoved into his face. Sure, he had known all along but for it to be so calmly presented to him in such a cool and factual manner - and by this man no less - ; that hurt. His comeback was weak and ill thought-out but it was all he could manage in his current situation.

"And you know nothing!" he spat, tightening his grip on his rifle and slowly lifting it whilst Sherlock sneered in that horribly smug know-it-all manner of his. It would only take one swing and then this would be over and he could slink back to some hiding place to lie low until Jim forgave him enough for his failure to take him back. Three...Two...One.

Seb brought the butt of the rifle whirling round, aiming for a glancing blow to those haughty cheekbones and figuring that if he was lucky enough, he could maybe break or at least fracture them, if only in the hope that it could console his bruised ego. Then something happened that took him completely by surprise. The detective swung a foot round, clipping Sebastian neatly on the ankle and taking his legs out from beneath him, sending all 6 foot of sniper tumbling towards the ground. His head impacted against the wet concrete with a thump that sent stars dancing across his vision and he blinked in surprise, having not been anticipating that. Looked like the freak did have something going for him after all.

"As much as I would like to stay here and play," the detective drawled, languidly handcuffing Seb to a nearby pipe, "I have better things to do with my time. Besides, my brother wants a word with you and for once, I think I'm quite happy to let him have his way."

Seb sighed and allowed his head to thunk back against the metal. Maybe death by Moriarty would have been the better option. At the very least, it would have been less humiliating.

Was it any good? Thank you for taking the time to read and please take the time to leave some feedback; con-crit and reviews are highly appreciated!

Next chapter should be up hopefully soon (: