Disclaimer: I do not own anything about Sherlock Holmes.

Author's Note: Sort of edited this since won't let me delete it.


"Jim?" Sebastian Moran whispered. He sat kneeling on the rooftop, next to James Moriarty' lifeless body. Tears were streaming down Sebastian's face, a large lump in his throat. He did not remember the last time he felt as horrible as this. He panted heavily from having to run all the way up to the top of St. Bart's. Just as he had heard the shot from his position, Sebastian had rushed as fast as he ever had to be at Jim's side after Holmes had jumped. Now, he couldn't stop staring at the familiar eyes, staring off into the distance, ever to look at Sebastian again.

He had risked everything just coming here. A loud commotion could be heard below – Jim Moriarty wasn't the only one who had taken his life today. He glanced briefly over the edge of the rooftop, seeing a stretcher being loaded into a truck. A large crowd was now forming. If Sebastian squinted really hard, he could swear he could make out John Watson – he had heard about him. Perhaps he would feel bad for John, only because he now knew exactly what he was feeling. But he couldn't, because his heart was now too lost to feel anything else.

He turned back to Jim. He still couldn't believe he was gone. The brilliant, mad, adorable Moriarty. It was absolutely heartbreaking.

Seb kneeled next to him once more, still not able to think quite clearly. Their relationship had been an unusual one, but it had been a relationship. He would never be able to be happy ever again.

For one thing, he knew the horrible fact that no one would mourn Jim Moriarty's death, while many would mourn Sherlock Holmes'. Holmes had friends – that was his weakness – but Jim had no one… no one but Sebastian. He would be the only one to truly mourn for him.

Suddenly, Sebastian found himself staring at the gun in Jim's hand. He gulped, thinking. There was nothing left for him in this world – it had all been for Jim. He couldn't bear to imagine life without his criminal partner. Which is why he finally made the decision he had.

Slowly, Sebastian reached down to gently take the gun from Jim's hand. Tears still present, he rested the gun in his mouth. Everything will be okay now, he told himself. Everything will be okay.

Sebastian looked down at Jim one more time. He looked at his lifeless eyes, never again to be filled with the knowledge and cleverness he had. He would never be able to hear Jim's voice ever again – the way he told him about all his amazing plans for Sherlock Holmes. He definitely wouldn't hear Jim say his name again.

This – the gun – was now the only chance he had of ever seeing Jim again.

At the last moment, Sebastian almost hesitated. Then, he closed his eyes, gently pulling the trigger.

A shot rang out in the air, and the people below gasped, looking around, up, and all over the place. At the same moment, police and investigators rushed up the stairs that led to the roof of the hospital.

When they reached the top, they found him – the consulting criminal or actor – James Moriarty. What they hadn't expected was the other now lifeless body that held the gun in his hand. He lay still next to Moriarty's body, most likely not to be remembered either. There was no reason to.

Soon, people arrived to pick up the two bodies. First went Moriarty, then Sebastian. A ghost of a smile could be seen on Sebastian's face, for in his last thoughts, he had noticed that James Moriarty hadn't died for nothing. Because Sherlock Holmes had taken his life. That meant that Moriarty's plan had been accomplished, and it was done. If there was anything Sebastian felt other than grief, depression, sadness, or anger for Jim, it would be hope. Because Sebastian knew in his mind that Moriarty had done what was imagined – he had won. He had died completing his task, with the knowledge that he was victorious. He had finally out-smarted the brilliant Sherlock Holmes in the best way possible.

And Sebastian was undoubtedly proud of him.