Sebastian

by Wayfaring Snowflake

Sebastian Moran reacted poorly to Jim's death. He hated Sherlock. He hated John. He wanted them dead, and he knew exactly what he was going to do about it.

~~Sebastian Moran~~

He sat there in the bar. Dead and gone. He had never expected it to end the way it had. He drank. He drank himself into oblivion. After he was drunk enough, which he judged only for himself, he stumbled out the door. There was a bit of wetness on his cheeks, but he ignored it. He didn't feel a damn thing.

Dead. Jim Moriarty was dead. His best mate. Only friend. Occasional lover. He knew that it would happen one day. He just hadn't expected it to be so soon. Damn, that Sherlock Holmes. If Holmes wasn't dead, too, he'd probably just go kill him himself. Of course, there was always the second best thing. He could make Holmes' little puppet dance. Dance like he's on fire. Dance away from death, then catch him at the last second. Yes, this idea sounded quite pleasing to him. He would enjoy this. He would enjoy it quite a bit.

So, with that, he decided to go home and prepare his gun. He, Sebastian Moran, was going to make John Watson suffer.

At this point it had been a year since Reichenbach fell, but the wound was still fresh. Seb had just gotten back from visiting Jim's grave, which was located on some remote island off the coast. He was upset. Upset enough to get him drunk to the point of debating whether or not he should go kill John Watson. Of course, he had this same dilemma a year ago. He had the gun ready and pointing at his head. He should have just shot him dead right there in the square when Sherlock fell. Then he would be dead and Seb wouldn't be facing this dilemma again.

He got back to his flat and pulled out his case. It hadn't been touched in a year. In fact, it hadn't truly been put together since he had last debated whether or not he should kill John. He was going to do it this time. He swore it to himself. He pieced together his old familiar friend and admired her beauty for a second.

Then he stopped.

He put the pieces of the gun back together.

He was being ridiculous.

Of course he wouldn't shoot John Watson.

No.

He was going to do this in true Jim Moriarty style.

He would make John suffer. John was going to burn. John would remember exactly what his "best friend" had done to him. What Sherlock Holmes had caused. The pain that he had caused. Sherlock was no longer available to torture, so he would just get the second best thing. His best friend.

Seb sat there in the diner watching carefully. He was in the diner across from Sarah's house, which John was staying in at this point. It would seem that they had gotten together. Seb didn't quite understand why, because John was quite obviously in love with Sherlock. Sherlock had reciprocated the feelings, too, whether he realized it or not. When John stepped out of the house he was alone. Seb slapped down the tab and stood up. He didn't notice the dark figure that was trailing some distance behind John. In fact, he somehow managed to let himself get between John and the other figure. That was his mistake. He had only made one. His one and only mistake was crossing Sherlock's path to John. Before he knew it, there was a scarf wrapping around his neck from behind and he was drug into an alleyway. The other man shoved him against the wall. He hit the wall. He hit the wall hard. Grunting, he stared up at the dark-headed man, then gasped.

Sherlock Holmes stood inches away from him, shoving him against the wall. The scarf around his neck didn't loosen its choke hold, though. Seeing Sherlock frightened him. Sherlock had been dead. John had confirmed it himself. There was no way that that hadn't been his body. It would be too hard to create one that would fool an army doctor, let alone his best friend. Yet, here he was being shoved against the wall by the "ghost" of the man.

He was back in his flat. Holmes had let him go. He hadn't hurt him. Seb simply came back to his flat and put his guns away. He wouldn't kill John. Not today, at least. He would wait, though. He would keep Sherlock's secret for a while, but in a few months he would "accidentally" let something slip about it. No one would believe him, but the fear would be planted in the backs of their minds. While Holmes was taking care of that, Seb would kill John. If Moran has to work without his best mate, then so does Holmes.