A/N Originally posted on AO3
The first year after 'The Roof' is not that hard. Ok, well, Seb's lying there, but it's easier to lie, right? That's something Jim taught him, and he continues to stand by it. He spends the time tracking Sherlock Holmes, who FUCKING SURVIVED, after all their hard work and all (The three snipers they hired weren't cheap, y'know) and hoping to high hell that Watson is suffering. Or dead. Yeah, he'd like it if Watson was dead. Would make everything easier.
Then he looses track of Holmes. And discovers he's gone back to dear old Johnnie boy. Which isn't fucking fair or anything (he spends the night drinking and smoking and drugging and tossing a bullet between his fingers) And then both are after him and the web and he's worked off his feet. Then they take a day off, and he returns to his flat, scraped and burned and incredibly angry.
And then he trips over his doorstep. And his eyes meet a pair of laughing, cold black ones. And he's then thwaked by a cane. What a brilliant day.
'Come onnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn, Sebbie. Don't be boooooring,'
Wait.
He knows that voice.
And the person who's voice it is dead.
But it's him, Seb observes, and as he gets up, he gets a better look at... whoever. Same eyes, same Westwood suit, same everything except he can sense blood on him and everything is more brutal and less mad, if that's even possible.
'You were dead,' Jim cocks his head over to one side.
'No, darling. Clearly not. I survived,'
God, he hates this man.
'And? Sherlock Holmes jumped off a building. Mines much easier to fake, dearie. So, lets get back on track. How is the kingdom holding up?' And in a instant, the world is back on track.
And good for it.