Jim shivered as long fingers ran through his hair, breath hitching.
"I tried, Seb. I couldn't keep it up. You know I've always been a bad actor." Seb smiled softly, hand moving down and stroking his lover's cheek. At the same time his grip on Jim's hand (which had been injured when he was flung against the wall) tightened slightly, and the younger man winced.
"I know you tried, James. I know. The bomb was going off; I didn't expect you to keep up the façade after that." I expected you to keep it up longer, but you can't be perfect all the time.
Big brown eyes looked up, pleading and soft; a sharp contrast to their previous dead gaze.
"Can you forgive me?" He whimpered. "I ruined your plan. They'll be after you know, once they now who you are."
Seb leaned down, lips brushing over Jim's brow. "We'll figure it out."
{Three][Hours][Earlier}
Boom!
He shouldn't have been surprised. He should have seen by the look in icy blue eyes that Sherlock would actually shoot the bomb vest. While a genius Jim had always been horrible at reading people.
The vest itself was not chocked full of explosives. There was, maybe, a quarter of the semtex than what it appeared. Not enough to take down the building. Hell, not even enough to give Sherlock and John more than cuts and bruises from almost five meters away. It was more than enough to throw Jim against the wall at less than three feet though.
Automatically he threw a hand out as the explosion started, landing on the other. He gasped at the sickening crack, not entirely sure whether it was the wrist which snapped, the hand, or both.
"Sherlock!" John's voice broke through the dust filled air, and Jim scrambled toward the corner, hoping that the thick air and mild debris would hide him. "Sherlock, are you okay?"
A cough.
"I'm fine, John. Where's Moriarty?"
Jim shuddered. He could feel his breathing rate increase, the blood rushing in his ears. He was panicking.
Twin footsteps are heading is his direction, and suddenly he's wretched up by the lapels of his Westwood suit. (Not yours, his mind tells him, Seb's. Seb's Westwood suit that he gave you last month for this whole charade. Will be upset that you ruined it? Probably.)
He's shaking and he knows he's shaking and he can't bear to meet Sherlock in the eyes. He's translucent at the best of times, and if he can keep Sherlock from finding out then maybe this won't end as badly.
To his right a gun cocks before being pressed to his temple. "If you'll come with us, Mr. Moriarty." John's voice, of course it's John's voice, and rather suddenly Sherlock's hands come back and Jim collapses to the ground. There are tears welling in his eyes, but he can't tell if it's from the stress or the fact that he's on his knees with his broken hand firmly planted on the ground keeping him upright. Considering the limb itself is incredibly numb he assumes it's the former.
Sherlock's eyes narrow, scanning over the crumpled figure before him. Suit tattered from small bits of shrapnel that couldn't make in through the cloth, tears mixing with the blood from a cut cheek, left wrist at an odd angle in comparison to the rest of the arm. This isn't the James Moriarty he's been playing this game with. He never was playing with James Moriarty.
After several long moments he turned, making his way off. "He's not our man. Detain him and I'll call Lestrade. He might know who's actually behind this."
Blinking, John went after him, leaving Jim on the ground. "What do you mean he's not out man? He put the semtex on me himself!" Jim winced at that. He'd honestly not wanted to, telling Seb that would keep him accountable for something, but the older man had insisted. He'd always insisted.
"Yes, John, I know he did." Sherlock said, like speaking to a dull child. "But he was forced by his boyfriend, am I right?"
Slowly, trying to keep what little of the mask head left, Jim shook his head. Sherlock actually scoffed at that.
"Don't try and lie, James." Jim winced. "It's painfully obvious that you aren't the one behind all this. How long have you been in this relationship? You're afraid of him by this point, so a while. At least a year."
Jim bolted before either could say another word, honestly surprised when they didn't follow.
{][][}
A/N: I'm not sure why I felt obligated to post this, really I'm not.
Aw well. This is what happens when I'm trying to avoid homework. :P
~Piki :B