"So, plan's set," Sebastian Moran said. "Anything else you need?" James "Jim" Moriarty shook his head, his long fingers playing distractedly with his upper lip. "Hey." Sebastian catches Jim's hand with his own, intertwining their fingers. "You OK?" Jim snatches his hand away as if Sebastian's touch burned him.

"Did I give you the right to touch me?" Jim demanded, a nasty edge in his voice. Sebastian, taken aback by his harsh tone, shook his head. "Just so we're clear." Jim went back to staring into empty space.

"Still haven't answered my question," Sebastian grumbled.

"No, nothing else will be needed, Moran," Jim snapped irritably. "Just do what you've been told." Sebastian narrowed his eyes, and came closer to the musing psychopath.

"Jim, what's wrong?" He asked softly.

"Nothing!"

"Jim, let me help you." This was the softest Sebastian had ever been with Jim when they weren't in bed together or when of them wasn't in danger. Jim finally stared at him, obviously shocked by his tone. Something flickered in the man's dark eyes, before his lips twisted.

"Oh dear," Jim drawled. "Oh my."

"What?" Sebastian demanded.

"Oh, Moran, you are pathetic." Sebastian's eyes widened as Jim stood with his usual elegance, all traces of his pensive brood gone. "So truly pathetic. If I had known better, I wouldn't have played this game."

"What game?" Sebastian asked warily.

"You actually thought there was something between us." Sebastian's breath left his body. "You see, Sebastian, I enjoy playing with people. It's one of the perks. Now, you were useful. And you were certainly a good shag, I'll give you that." Sebastian swallowed as Jim began to lazily circle him, and the Tiger began to feel less like the predator and more like the prey. "Did you actually come to care for me?" Jim laughed, before stepping closer to the sniper. "Did you actually believe that I cared for you? Wanted you? Loved you?" Sebastian didn't respond, didn't even look away from the malicious, dark eyes. "Oh." Jim laughed again, tilting his head back as if the whole thing was so delectably delicious to him. "Well, don't overestimate your worth, darling." His voice dripped scorn. "You'll face disappointment. You are an asset. You are useful. Other than that, you are nothing to me. Once your worth is spent, I will toss you on the street like a dog. Never forget that." He stepped closer. Sebastian could smell the other man's cologne. "Do you understand?"

"Duly noted," Sebastian answered with a dry swallow. Jim sneered and stepped away.

"Well, now that that's taken care of," he said with a twisted grin. "I've got to go and tie up my loose ends." Jim turned, preparing to go.

"Fuck you, James Moriarty." Sebastian let the whisper carry over to his boss. "Fuck you." Jim gave him a smirk, before walking off, graceful as a cat.

XXX

"I don't have to die." Sebastian heard the entirety of the exchange through an earpiece he and Jim were sharing. "If I've got you!" Sebastian clenched his teeth at the mocking song. He hated Sherlock Holmes, despised him with a passion. Especially with the threatening undertone in his tone. Although Sebastian should let Jim be tortured beyond endurance by the Holmes brothers. Maybe that would knock him down a peg. And then, something changed in the way the conversation was going.

"Thank you! Sherlock Holmes…" Jim sounded elated, relieved, sated. Sebastian strained to hear the rest of the words, of what was going on. What had happened, what had Jim realized, to make him behave this way? "Thank you. Bless you." His voice was different now, more simplistic. It was hoarser, and the consulting criminal sounded almost near tears. "As long as I'm alive, you can save your friends. You've got a way out." Sebastian started at that. What was Jim going to do? What was he planning? "Well, good luck with that." Too late, Sebastian realized Jim Moriarty's plan, his solution to his own final problem.

"JIM!" He shouted desperately, hoping that his boss would hear him. It was too late. Just as Sebastian heard Holmes's shocked, desperate cry, an explosion went off in his earpiece. "JIM!" Sebastian left everything in that abandoned building, didn't care what would happen to it. This was impossible. Jim wouldn't do that; he couldn't do that. Sebastian tore down the steps and erupted onto the street. "Move!" He shouted, shoving pedestrians out of the way. He launched himself down the pavement, running desperately to get to the hospital. Dimly, he heard Holmes having a conversation with his live-in, but the mission was shoved into the corner of Sebastian's mind with the crisis at hand. Jim wouldn't. He had never discussed, never even raised the idea. Jim Moriarty would never kill himself, not even for Sherlock Holmes. Sebastian finally reached St. Bart's, and ran as quickly as he could up the flights of stair, finally stumbling out onto the rooftop. Sebastian's legs seemed to fail him as he saw blood pooling on the stones, seemingly coming from the body of the small, dark haired man crumpled on the ground. "Jim," he whispered hoarsely, collapsing next to the dead man. "No, no. Please, no." Jim's dark eyes were wide open; they were empty, staring at nothing. His hand was still clenched around the gun he had used to kill himself; a gun Sebastian had given him. Watson's moaning and disbelieving voice floated up onto the roof, echoing Sebastian's thoughts.

"God no! Please no." He was desolate, completely and utterly heartbroken.

"Jim. James, please. Please no. No. I'm begging you Jim, please. God no." Sebastian's thoughts were on an endless loop of denial; unable to comprehend that James Moriarty was dead. He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. Sebastian broke down then, sobbing hysterically. He clutched his hair, body shaking, tears falling on the dead man he had cradled in his lap. This can't be happening. But it was, and Jim was dead. Once Sebastian had spent his tears, but not his grief, he gently closed Jim's eyelids and placed a chaste kiss on his forehead.

XXX

There was a service, a private service. Jim's two brothers had come, and a couple other clients. Augusta had shown her face, for once, to comfort Sebastian. But Sebastian didn't need comfort. He needed Jim, alive. Finally, when they were all gone, Sebastian stepped closer to the closed casket.

"You know, I think back to all those times at our flat," he began hoarsely. "And let me just tell you, despite what you said that day, I know you cared. Nothing will convince me you didn't. And I cared too. Just thought you should know." Sebastian turned and stalked out of the church. Jim may be dead, but there was still his empire to manage. Far up, in the rafters of the church, away from the sunlight, no one noticed the tall, gaunt figure of James Moriarty, his dark eyes, swimming with an unknown emotion, trained on Sebastian Moran's back.