Sherlock was alive. Sherlock was alive. That was all Sebastian could hear, over and over in his head. He couldn't understand it, it wasn't fair. Why did that bastard get to live but Jim had to die? His Jim was gone, he'd lost the one person that he actually cared about yet Doctor Watson,who had plenty of friends, was allowed his Sherlock back. Not for long, of course. Sebastian had his orders. Sherlock was alive and therefore he'd get rid of Doctor Watson. Shoot him dead, just like he'd been told. And oh he was going to have fun with this. He'd make sure Sherlock and Doctor Watson suffered, he wanted to see them deal with the pain he'd been dealing with for three years. The pain he was going to have to continue dealing with because fate hadn't been good to him. Then again, this was probably his fault. Karma, if you will. The amount of blood that had been shed because of him, the amount of innocent people he'd killed for fun, it all made him a bad person. However Doctor Watson was good. He was the opposite of Sebastian. He cared for stupid people and their incredibly dull existence. No wonder fate had been so kind to him.

"Fucking hell Moran, get a grip," Sebastian muttered under his breath. He couldn't get a grip though, for the past three years he'd been a mess. Irene Adler had kept him company, been here to calm him down. He also managed to hook Molly Hooper, don't ask him how because hadn't got a clue, and she'd looked after him. The first time she came over to the flat she had cleaned up the broken glass that was near enough everywhere and had helped him bandage up his wounds. She was nice, was Molly, and was willing to help him. However, he was pretty sure the only reason she helped was because she thought he was 'getting better'. He was less violent, he hadn't shot anyone. As far as Molly was concerned he wasn't 'evil' or 'bad' any more, poor girl. She didn't have a clue. He welcomed her company though and was willing to pretend for her sake.

It was better with Irene though because she had been close to Jim and she knew how he functioned. She wasn't scared or shocked when he shot someone, it didn't bother her when he aimed his gun at her and shot bullets into her leg. Heck, she just laughed it off. It was almost as good as having Jim back. Almost.

Taking a deep breath, Sebastian pushed himself up off of the armchair he'd been sat in and looked around. He'd moved into a smaller flat after Jim's death. He hated having to be reminded of the man although moving hadn't helped. He'd kept the light brown leather armchair Jim had loved and also some of the Westwood suits. There were only about five left though. The others he'd set fire to the night of Jim's death, burned them all to the ground and laughed while he did it. Of course if Jim had been alive, if he ever knew, Sebastian was sure he would be punished. There would have been blood and there would have been pain but that was what he wanted, what he needed, what he missed.

No point dwelling on the past now though, there was work to be done. For the most part, Jim's little 'empire' was gone. Sebastian had watched Mycroft pull it apart piece by piece until there was nothing left. Nothing left but one loyal tiger who was willing to kill himself just to please his boss. He'd sat and wasted his life away watching Doctor Watson. It took a lot of will power to not just shoot the man in the face, really. Sebastian wanted to watch him squirm, watch him die, but he didn't. That was not what he'd been told to do and he couldn't disobey orders.

Pulling out a cigarette, Sebastian lit it and placed it in his mouth. He let it sit there as he pulled out his phone, glancing over a text message from Irene he'd just received. Seb, don't do anything stupid. It's not worth it. -A So she'd heard the news. Adler had grown soft, recently. Cared too much about Doctor Watson and Sherlock and Sebastian hated it. Jim was worth it. He was worth anything and everything. It felt like he was only one that missed Jim and the was wrong because she should too. She was supposed to want revenge just as much as he did but she didn't and it made him angry. Wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart. He sent the text with a smirk and pocketed his phone, knowing she was going to be suspicious. She'd probably try and stop him, that he was looking forward too.

Wondering around the flat, Sebastian picked up the first gun he laid eyes on. His Barrett M82. It was one of the only guns that Jim hadn't given him, that was completely his and his alone. He packed it away, feeling his phone vibrate and checking it. Don't. -A Sebastian glared at his phone and hurled it across the room, watching as it hit the wall and fell to the floor in pieces. It hurt, a little, to see Irene act like this. She knew this was important to him, it had been important to Jim too, but it was like none of that mattered to her. He flicked the cigarette onto the floor, stamping it out and then grabbing the bag with his rifle. This was it, revenge. Finally.

0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0

Set up on the roof across from the flat the two men lived, Sebastian set up his rifle. He was humming quietly, a smile on his face. It was hard not to be happy about this. "Wish it wasn't so fucking cold," He mumbled to himself, glancing across at the flat. The stupid bastards had actually left their curtains open and he had a clear view into the apartment. Their landlady was there, Mycroft Holmes, Lestrade, Sherlock and John. Laughing and talking and being happy. Of course, it wasn't like they had reason to worry. As far as they were concerned there was no danger left for them apart from the petty criminals which were hardly a threat. Laughing quietly, he got himself ready and aimed his rifle, watching. Waiting.

"Sebastian?" Oh. He knew that voice. Molly Hooper had made an appearance, her voice quiet. She sounded almost scared of him. He didn't move to look at her but he heard her walk over, standing just beside him. "Irene told me you'd be here," She tried again to start a conversation and he stole a quick glance at her. By the looks of it she'd rushed to get here, her hair in a messy ponytail and her work clothes still on.

"What is it you want, Molly?" He asked coldly. No time to be polite, she was going to hate him anyway. Probably hand him over to the police, not that he minded. It would be better then being stuck in the flat for the rest of his life doing nothing. After this Irene would stop visiting, Molly would be too scared and too angry to ever talk to him again. It was either going to be jail or death.

"I want you to stop. Just … please stop. You don't have to do this, Sebastian. Jim is gone. He can't tell you what to do any more," She replied and he saw her lick her lips nervously. People kept telling him this, as if he felt Jim was forcing him to do it but that wasn't the case. He wanted to, he cared about Jim. Why is it no-one could understand that?

"I apologise, Miss Hooper." Formal. Cold. He was looking through his rifle, aiming at John's heart. "I really am sorry," He added on, a mere whisper. Probably nothing she could hear. Molly moved as if to pull him back and without a second thought he pulled the trigger and watched John Watson fall to the floor.

There were a few seconds of silence, but it seemed to last far longer. Molly was chanting 'no' over and over, starting to cry as she backed away from Sebastian. He wanted to stop her, to beg her to stay with him but he stayed by his gun, watching the scene unfold in the Baker Street flat. People were crowded around Doctor Watson, Mrs Hudson appeared to be crying and poor Sherlock looked frantic. He actually was worried about his poor little pet. Sebastian's lips curled into a cruel smile, one Jim would have been proud of, and when Mycroft Holmes looked out the window he stood up and nodded. Confusion and then anger showed on his face before grabbing Lestrade. This was it, they were coming up here to arrest him.

"You have to go, Miss Hooper, or you'll get in trouble," Sebastian stated calmly as he turned to look at the girl. She was sobbing, her face white as a sheet and he had to stop himself from hugging her. He was a monster, that's just how it was. The fact that he had come to care for Molly was wrong, he should never have done that. Irene could handle it but Molly was so trusting. She was never going to be able to deal with the mess that he made. Lestrade and Mycroft were leaving to head up here and she still hadn't moved. "Molly, please. Get out of here." He was practically begging for her to leave and she most have realised the tone of desperation because she was up, wiping her eyes. She didn't even look at him as she left, running from the building. He'd make sure she didn't get in trouble, he owed her that.

Lestrade and Mycroft were here, guns pointed at him. He raised his hands in defeat. There was a moment where he considered flinging himself off the building, ending it all here, but no. He offered himself up to the police. Staying alive meant watching Sherlock Holmes suffer. Watching the man fall apart. That was what he wanted, that was the goal. He'd finally managed to destroy Sherlock Holmes's heart. Jim would be proud.