Hello, all! Recently, I've been fascinated by John's shadow character: Sebastian Moran. Who is he? How did he meet Jim Moriarty? And what drew them together? Here's my take on how Moran met Moriarty. I hope you enjoy.


Prologue

"Well, well, well," sighed a voice. "Look who's awake."

Sebastian squinted against the light. The tiny room swarmed with whiteness and bright spots. Painkillers, probably. His vision focused on the face of Brigadier Stephens, hovering above his. Even with the room swimming, it was easy to tell that Brigadier Stephens was none too pleased.

"Morning, Brig," mumbled Sebastian.

Brigadier Stephens frowned. "Don't 'Brig' me, I'm still your superior officer."

Sebastian raised an eyebrow. "Still?"

The brigadier's face slid out of his frame of vision, and Sebastian heard a plastic chair squeak under the man's weight as he sank down into it. Sebastian sat up slowly on the cot. His chest felt oddly tight. He turned on his side towards the brigadier.

"How many bullets this time?" he asked. He paused. "Sir."

The brigadier grunted. "You got lucky. You got four .223s to the chest. Could have killed you, but they just missed your heart." His face hardened. "Moran, what the hell were you thinking?"

Sebastian closed his eyes and settled back into the sheets. "I nearly had him, sir."

"Yeah, and you said that the first time in Algiers, and again after the incident in Saudi Arabia."

"Just give me two more months."

The brigadier was silent for a long while. Sebastian heard him fetch a deep sigh. "Two months? The game's over, sweetheart."

Sebastian blinked. "What do you mean by that?"

He blew out a breath. "We can't spend any more money on you, kid. Out of all the agents, you've gotten the closest, sure, but we can't afford to give you any more chances."

"You're discharging me."

"Damn right we are." Brigadier Stephens pursed his lips. "It will be an honorable discharge, with full benefits. You can return to London. Start a civilian life."

"Just two months, sir," Sebastian repeated. "Two months will be enough for me to catch up to him. It may be even less."

Brigadier Stephens shook his head. "Now, I understand adjusting to civilian life will be difficult. It's what we all have to deal with, sooner or later. But you've done good work for us, and now it's time for you to call it quits."

"He's still out there. Until I've gotten him, I'm not going back to London," asserted Sebastian.

"Then go to Liverpool, Manchester, Bristol—go to the moon, for all I care. But you're done here, kid."

"I'm not leaving until I complete my mission."

He scoffed. "Yeah, and I think we've both seen by now that it's not going to happen."

Sebastian looked him dead in the eye. "I'm staying, sir.

The colonel met his eyes calmly. "Then I'm getting you court-martialed."

He tensed. "Sir?"

Brigadier Stephens regarded him steadily. "I didn't choose you for this mission because you're the best shot in the army. You know why I chose you?"

"Because you knew I could finish anyone off, sir."

"See? That's what I saw in you. I saw deadliness. And I took a chance with it. But you became obsessed. You got too involved. You let the thrill of the game seduce you." He took an envelope out from his pocket. "Do you know how many men you killed?"

Sebastian lowered his eyes. "No."

"Neither do I." He gestured at the envelope in his lap. "I have the complete list here from my superiors, but I don't want to know."

"It was necessary," stated Sebastian.

The brigadier nodded. "Of course it was self-defense, at first. But you enjoyed it too much. You started shooting at anything that got in your way. Don't think I never found out about the prison guard here in Kabul." The brigadier held up the envelope. "If we ever decide to release this information, you wouldn't just be sectioned, you'd be imprisoned for life. We're letting you either quit here with an honorable discharge, or spend the rest of your life in prison."

Sebastian was silent for a long while. "What are you expecting me to tell you?"

"Give it up, Moran. You and I both know you can't go any longer: you've driven yourself crazy."

He nodded. "I suppose I have."

Then, he sat up, drew his gun, and shot the brigadier in the neck. The man's eyes bulged. He slumped over in his seat.

Restoring his gun to its holster, Sebastian climbed out of the cot, swaying slightly from the medications, and examined the body. Steadying his knees, he hoisted up the brigadier's limp form and tossed it onto the now-vacant bed, splattering blood on the floor and on the white sheets. The brigadier landed face down, arms hanging off the sides of the cot.

The envelope slid from his clenched fist. Sebastian knelt down and picked up the envelope from the puddle of blood. He turned it in his hands.

He had lied. He never forgot the men he killed, and he never would.

He prized open the envelope, and under the list of neatly typed names, he wrote in the brigadier's.