A/N- A one shot from the point of Sebastain Moran, post Reichenbach Falls.

Summary- John wasn't the only one in pain.


Sebastian was at a loss as to what to do next. How could he go on in the world when his best friend was dead? True, they had only been flatmates for a few months, but Seb had felt he was always someone Jim had trusted, even if he hadn't admitted it to himself yet.

When Moriarty had called him up to be his "attorney" in court, he had been happy to help. After all, James had given him purpose after the war; without him, he would have been another veteran, left without a home or family to return to. But James had found a place for his skills, and now he was Moriarty's best sniper. Or was. Until he killed himself. But Sebastian didn't like to dwell on that.

Instead, he focused on the few good months they had before "The Shot", as Sebastian called Jim's death in his mind. When he had finally gotten to know the real James, the James behind the game. Sure, he seemed crazy at first, but weren't they all a little bit crazy? Jim just liked to show it more than most. Yet he was still as secretive about "The Game" as ever. And that frustrated Sebastian. He could just tell Moriarty's plans could only mean trouble for the consulting criminal. He had no regard for life, including his own.

So when Seb saw Sherlock Holmes fall from the roof of St. Bart's, he wasted no time in alerting the other assassins and putting his gun away, itching to go check on his best friend. But by the time he got to the roof, there was no sign of Moriarty. Maybe he got away, he remembered thinking. But he was heartbroken to later find out that James had shot himself. In the head. There was no coming back from that, it was no gimmick. Someone else in the organization must have come, picked up the body, and cleaned up the blood.

But it hurt. How could James leave him?

Then he wondered how Sherlock's partner was doing… John, right? They were the same, in a way. Parallels of each other. The ex-army men, each needed to be the sidekick of the two most brilliant minds in the world, each desired by their skills. The consulting detective needing a doctor, the criminal needing a sniper. And now they were left by the wayside, left without a word. Well, that wasn't true. Sherlock had seemed to care more about John. He had called him, left him with a few final words to live with. Then again, maybe Sebastian didn't want those words. What would it be like to dwell on those final words of a best friend over and over again?

And so Sebastian Moran decided to go meet Doctor John Hamish Watson in person. After all, he wouldn't recognize him, and sometimes the best comfort is knowing someone else is hurting just as much as you.

As he approached the 221 B Baker Street, Sebastian noticed his heart rate increase considerably. Funny, he hadn't ever remembered being this nervous when shooting a gun. All too soon, he found himself knocking on the green door.

A man answered it. He was short, with sandy blonde hair and warm brown eyes. Or, at least, they used to be warm. Now they looked dead and haunted, just like the rest of John. This wasn't a man, merely a shell of one. Despite himself, Sebastian couldn't help feeling sorry for him. He knew the pain John must be going through, and could only imagine it was worse than his own, given the closeness he and Sherlock had had.

"Yes? What can I do for you?" Even the way the man talked was dead. Cold and without any life. "If you're another person from the press I swear-"

"No, no. I just… I wanted to offer my condolences. Sherlock Holmes was a great man and…" Sebastian pretended to choke up, a trick he had learned from Jim when one wanted to avoid conversation. But Sebastian meant it. No matter what side he and John were on, they each had to admit the opponent was an impressive one.

"Yes, well…" John cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable with the conversation.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have intruded," and for a second. Sebastian considered breaking the man in front of him more. He almost brought up Richard Brook, just to spite Sherlock and give in one more sting for James. But he realized he didn't have the heart in him, not that day. Someday, John and Sebastian would have to have their own duels, the ordinary partners left to duke out what the brilliant had started, but that didn't need to begin today. "I'll be on my way then."

As Sebastian walked away, he heard a soft call behind him. "Thank you."

He pretended not to hear and kept walking, thinking to himself, And thank you John Watson, for sharing in my pain.


Thoughts?

-princessmelia