The first day without Jim was hard, there were too many memories stashed around the house, hiding in closets and under the large vase in the hall… Seb wanted to leave. He wanted to take all his stuff and run away, but nothing in that house was his. Sure, he had shirts and maybe a pair of shoes that he had bought himself, but that was it. Everything else Jim had bought him. Seb stayed in the bedroom, watching moonlight turn into sunlight and moonlight once again.
The second day without Jim it hit him. The day before had been a blank, endless abyss and he hit the bottom then. He woke up with tears in his eyes, but pushed them back and got up. The rest of the day was spent in front of the TV, flicking past everything that brought back memories. Until something came on the radio, "Savin' Me" by Nickelback, the song that was playing in the car while Jim was setting up to be Richard Brook. He did lose it, he finally accepted that Jim was gone, he was never coming back. He was never coming back.
365 days after Jim was killed, he was found in the middle of nowhere by Sherlock wielding a gun.
"Do it!" he shouted at him, watching the barrel of the gun tremble ever so slightly at his head.
Sherlock hesitated before snapping the gun into his palm and unloading it. He was in the tattered remains of his old coat that was almost falling off him, but he was unbelievably strong. Sherlock dropped the gun into his pocket and drew himself up to his full height before taking a few steps toward Seb. "You're Sebastian Moran. Wishing for death? Did your partners death traumatize you so much?"
Seb gritted his teeth, he also was thinner, but not like Sherlock was. Sherlock was thin because he had been running around the place… but Seb was thin because he hardly ever ate unless it was completely necessary to his survival. "Shut up, fucking shut up!" Seb's carefully constructed, intricate web he had set up to stop the pain was suddenly being torn down. He hadn't seen another human being for at least ten months. He didn't want to see anyone and just Sherlock being here in the same room was making everything crash.
He chuckled, "Of course. Jim smelled of lubricant on the roof, no doubt it was you," with a satisfied smile, he slid his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. "Was it?"
Seb gritted his teeth, he remembered every detail of that night. He remembered when Jim told him that he might die and that Seb shouldn't be sentimental and keep his things. But he was grieving two days after and forgot all about it. "Who else!"
Something must have shown through on his face because Sherlock winced and stepped back. "I see. How long have you been out here? Six months? Nine months? No… you moved straight out here…" he laughed and shook his head, regaining his cold exterior, "You really are pathetic aren't you?"
Seb looked to thee ground, his breath hissing between his teeth in short, staccato gasps. He couldn't break now! He can't. He can't. "Leave. Now, please," he shut his eyes, swaying where he stood. He heard a metallic click before the feel of cool metal at his forehead.
"Then I guess this is good for you."
He opened his eyes fast enough to see Sherlock's finger tighten on the trigger and an apologetic expression flicker over his features. The truth was, Sebastian Moran wasn't scared for this, he wasn't even saddened by it. He welcomed it.
Your heart isn't broken, it's burned.