This is my attempt at another story. I don't know if I will continue it though, because frankly, I was disappointed with the feed-back on my last story. Anyways, I will put this up here, and then we will see how it goes.

Disclaimer: I don't own any BBC Sherlock Characters, nor do I own Sebastian Moran. They all belong to the BBC or Sir Conan Doyle. The story is not beta read, and I am not a native speaker of English, so forgive if some things sound wrong to you.

The title of this story is taken from Rihanna's song Diamonds. The title of the chapter is from Serge Gainsbourg's and Brigitte Bardot's Bonnie and Clyde.I don't own that either (or any of the songs I will use).


Chapter One: Quelle importance qu'ils me fassent la peau…

Grey walls. Sherlock scratches all over the place. This was be where he had been held. Only he would be crazy like that. Well… the good thing is that I won't be here for much longer. The bad thing is that I won't be around for much longer…

Sebastian Moran was not an idiot. He knew his time was running out. Forty years old, and doomed to die. He would die soon, he knew that. People who did the things he did generally didn't even live to see their forties. That he had managed it was mainly because of one man.

James Moriarty.

If it weren't for him, he would have died at the age of twenty-seven for the first time. In the hands of the Taliban. But James Moriarty had pulled the strings, and Sebastian Moran had survived what nobody could. As it was, Jim had given him thirteen more years to spend on this planet.

But now, nobody could save him anymore.

So, what had happened?

James Moriarty had died, and Sherlock Holmes had survived. It was as easy as that.

And that was something Sebastian Moran just could not accept. Jim Moriarty, the greatest man on this planet, had died. Sebastian had loved the man. Not in that sense, mind you. But Jim had given Sebastian a life, a good life. And for that, Sebastian owed him. And then there was Sebastian's sister, Sorcha. She had loved Jim, the way a woman loved a man, with every fibre of her being. She had left the city after Jim's death, suicide, whatever, and had never come back. Even Sebastian didn't know where she was. He would probably never see her again.

All because of Sherlock Holmes.

And then the man didn't even have the decency to die for real. No, he still lived. And he had taken to dismantle Jim's web, destroy Jim's empire. If by that time Sebastian still hadn't cared, he did when the first wall fell and his lover Gloria had been sent to jail. The woman (or man…) who looked after Jim's prostitutes, made sure they had a good life… Now the girls were without protection. Some bastard would take over.

Sebastian couldn't accept that.

So, he had decided to take matters into his own hands. He would kill Sherlock Holmes.

It had all gone horribly wrong.

For some reason Sebastian couldn't see, Sherlock Holmes had known he would come, and had set him up. He had been caught.

And now he was sitting here in this cell. It wasn't Pentonville Prison. No, he had escaped from Pentonville once; bringing him back there was too risky. Idiots. I would have never made that escape without Jim. And now that Jim is dead… Sebastian Moran was doomed.

He knew it was not a coincidence that they had brought him here. The same cell they had kept Jim in when he had been in captivity. It was meant to break his spirits, but, they were already broken. He had, after Jim left, lived for one thing only. And that had been revenge. Now that he had failed in this purpose, he didn't have anything left that could keep his spirits up.

And really, what good would it do him?

They had talked about a trial, but Sebastian knew it wouldn't come to that. As it was, he was in the hands of the government, and they had been fooled too often by Jim to just let him go, or even risk a trial that, although it could not go either way, could become dangerous. Sebastian had once managed to escape a few burly and heavily armed men. And who knew if he still had friends that would help him? Moriarty's web was still huge, and you couldn't trust anybody involved.

So, he would be killed. Shipped to a faraway country and killed and buried there. Somewhere in the desert. It was the safest option. And Sebastian didn't care. He actually preferred it that way. If there was going to be a trial, his sister would know. She would come and try to defend him in court, and thereby put herself in danger. Sorcha Moran was the last person on earth Sebastian Moran wanted to protect. She was safe where she was, because Sebastian was positive there were no records of her ever being involved with Jim.

He raised his head and looked at the carvings in the cell again.

Sherlock. Sherlock. Sherlock.

He got up from his chair and limped to the mirror. He ran his fingers over the carving, almost tenderly. Not out of tenderness for Sherlock. But for Jim.

The guards had roughed Sebastian up quite nicely those past weeks. Of course, if they already had their hands on him, there was no reason why they wouldn't try to get information out of him. But Sebastian had just clenched his jaw and said nothing.

The Taliban had tried and failed to break him.

The British Government had tried to get information out of Jim, and they had failed, too. Nobody could make the man do anything that he didn't want to.

And Sebastian owed it to Jim to be just as brave as he was when they had done everything to break him. Jim hadn't broken, and neither had Sebastian. They could try all they wanted, but Sebastian would hold his head high.

They hadn't done to him what they had done to Jim. Not that it would have made any difference. But Mycroft Holmes had stepped in just at the right moment, had stopped them. Sebastian had to give the man credit: he wasn't one of them. He was a better man. He did what he had to do, but he wouldn't sink that low. In other circumstances, Sebastian would have respected Mycroft, maybe even liked him. But as it was, Mycroft hadn't been there to stop it happening to Jim, and that was something Sebastian Moran could not forgive.

And Mycroft had no reason to grieve as the person who mattered most to him was still alive.

No, there was no way Sebastian could ever respect Mycroft Holmes.

He limped through the cell. Sebastian had never seen the surveillance tapes of Jim's sessions. He knew Sorcha had them stashed somewhere. She had told him one night. She had taken them, for the same reasons she had taken the smelly and stained shirt he had been wearing during his stay with the government. It was the only record of Jim she had. There were no other pictures of Jim but these videos. All the clothes he had owned were dry-cleaned except for this one shirt. And no gravesite to mourn for him. She had nothing left but the things that would remind her of how he had been tortured so vilely.

The guards had shown him the videos of his boss being beaten, tortured, cut, burnt, starved, waterboarded, denailed and finally raped on loop every night. To break him. Then they had recreated for him the scenes he had been shown. It had been vicious, so vicious that now Sebastian was actually welcoming death. Finally, it would be over.

He wouldn't have to see Jim suffer anymore.


It was Joel that opened the door. "Hey, scum." Sebastian didn't even raise his head as he got up. "Hands behind your back." Sebastian complied. Joel fastened the handcuffs tightly, just as he did with the cuffs around Sebastian's ankles. "I hear you are scheduled for a nice trip into the sun. One way, though." He looked around. "Ah, no new decorations… I hoped you would be a little more fun. Do you know that we never really cleaned this cell? Basically, all the blood you see is still Moriarty's. The blood on the mattress is, too. I loved to watch him bleed. From my punches. Just as I loved hearing your bones shattering under my kicks… I will truly miss you, Colonel." He all but spat the last word. "Now come… The car is waiting."

He placed his hand on Sebastian's shoulder and guided him out. Many stairs… the cell was well under the ground. And then, stars in the darkened sky. The stars were shining brightly over London tonight. How funny. They wouldn't even give him one last look at the sun. He had always loved the sun, since he had been in Afghanistan. Dying in the desert wasn't such a bad idea, really.

Joel guided him to the car. Sebastian was the only captive. The rest of the passengers were guards, heavily armed, ready to beat him into submission should he dare an escape.

But Sebastian didn't even try. He didn't have any fight left. Jim Moriarty dead. His sister gone. Gloria in jail. There was no one left for whom Sebastian Moran could fight but himself. And, as he had failed to save Jim, he found that he wasn't worth surviving. So, why fight?

The car started driving. Out of the city. Sebastian turned his head as he saw the lights of London Eye slowly get smaller. He had loved this city. Jim Moriarty's playground. He had owned it. And now it was without a leader. The master dead, the second-in-command about to die as well.

The city was doomed.


Now it's your turn. Let me know you want to read more. This is not meant to be a one shot.