Three years. Seven months. Twelve days. Four hours. Six minutes. Twelve seconds. That's how long it has been since I heard the shot. Since I knew what he'd done. We'd always joked about it but I never thought he'd actually do it, that he'd actually pull the trigger and blow his brains out. We both agreed to never leave the other, but I guess pride got the better of him.

I walked down the road to a local bar I quite liked. Since he died, I'd found myself visiting there more and more often, drinking away the painful memories. I went and took my usual seat at the bar and ordered my usual drink and put my head in my hands, thinking of him and everything I'd ever heard him say or see him do.

"Wow. Nice shot there, tiger"

"Looking good today, Moran"

"I think that you're higher above the others I employ, Sebastian. I hope you realise that"

"I...I don't know how to say this properly...but...I feel a sort of affection for you"

I chuckled softly to myself at these all. I obviously appreciated them at the time, but not anymore. Now they were just meaningless words that someone who once appreciated me said. But not any more. Never any more. I clutched my drink in my hand, so tight I thought I would shatter the glass in my hand. My mood was constantly swinging now he was gone. He used to be able to keep me calm, but I was even worse now he was gone. A man raised an eyebrow at my unusual behaviour and I glared at him, warning him to back off and leave me alone. I turned back to my drink and softened my grip on the glass. There was a small television on in the corner of the room, showing some horse races that I didn't really care for. I took a sip of the scotch I ordered, feeling it burn the back of my throat. I swallowed it and felt instantly better, my mind already being influenced by it.

Suddenly, there was a small amount of static on the TV. The sudden silence that it caused was weird. The bartender walked over and thumped the top of it and the racing program continued, for abut another ten seconds. This time, the static stopped the program from playing altogether and there was suddenly a distorted voice playing out.

"Did you miss me? Did you miss me? Did you miss me?"

The image started to clear. I dropped my glass to the floor as I saw it, alcohol and glass going all over the floor, but I didn't care.

It was him.

It was an image of him with the caption "Miss me?" by it. My eyes widened and I ran out the pub onto the street and down it towards my flat. How? How? How could he be back!? He died! I heard it and it happened, it couldn't have been made up. I fumbled in my pocket for my keys and shakily opened my front door as I started to pace up and down the hallway, my fists clenched as my breathing sped up drastically. I couldn't comprehend this at all. I yelled out and thumped the wall with anger, which was now a common occurrence for me. I kept on pounding the wall, my knuckles blistering and bleeding, but I no longer cared.

There was a sudden and swift movement behind me. I immediately grabbed my gun from belt and turned as I cocked it, ready to shoot anything that was near me as tried to think straight. "THIS IS NOT FUNNY, JAMES! STOP IT! STOP IT! STOP IT!" I cried out and collapsed to the floor in tears in a heap as I dropped my gun. I'd never dropped my gun before, but I had done it then. It was official. I was useless to all.

I kept on crying on the floor, tears soaking into the carpet. There was another movement behind me. I yelled out and grabbed my gun again and got onto my knees as I looked around for whoever was in there with me. "Show yourself! You really don't wanna be messing with me right now!" I growled lowly and blinked away tears as I began looking around for whoever was in my house.

There was a sudden creak coming from upstairs and I ran up there. It was in my room and I knew they were there. Unless they were willing to jump two stories into a pavement, they wouldn't be gone. I ran in and burst the door open, my grip on the gun slightly wobbly as I looked around the room. I looked at the desk in my room, and there was someone sat in the chairs facing away from me. I pressed the end of my gun into the back of their head. "Who are you and what are you going, asswipe" I growled again, putting on that I wasn't scared, or angry, or devastated. The man stood up, but I let them. "Sebastian..." A low, Irish drawl came from his mouth. I dropped my gun yet again and stumbled backwards. "No! You're not real! You're dead! You're dead!" I yelled out and fell back on my bed. "Sebastian, please. It's me! I'm real, I'm here, I promise!" He walked over to me. He looked like nothing had happened.

I looked away from him. "You're not real! You can't be! I heard the gunshot, I saw the body, I went to your funeral, I visited your grave everyday!" He yelled at him. "You're just a vision I'm having because I'm fucked up in the head right now!" I hit my head hard to try and think straight and Jim pulled my hand away. I didn't even bother fighting him, I just looked up into his eyes. He was touching me. I could feel him. "Y-you're real..." He nodded. "I am. And I'm sorry for this. I never thought I'd end up doing this to you" He sat me up. "I presume you saw the message I left everywhere?" He sat by me. I nodded. "It was 'Did you miss me" I looked down at our hands. He still hadn't let go. "I never got to finish my sentence. Did you miss me? Because I missed you, Sebastian Moran" My eyes widened and I looked back up at him. "Really?" He nodded once more. "I missed you too, James Moriarty" And with that, we both closed our eyes and kissed. Reunited once more