Sebastian was running. The job had gone horribly wrong. It wasn't his fault, no, his shooting was perfect as usual. One shot, the target was dead. To be honest, the shot was one of the best Sebastian had ever done. No, it wasn't his fault. It was the goddamn target's fault. The target had known he was being targeted and therefore set up a decoy. A pretty fucking brilliant decoy, as a matter of fact. Sebastian couldn't tell the difference, he just shot, then he turned around and there was his real target. He ran then. He jumped and was off. He knew there was probably no way he could escape them for long, even if he outran them for now and managed to get away for a moment, they would find them and then he would die. A simple execution, he would be shot, then he would be dead.

Sebastian did manage to outrun them. He used his knowledge of some of London's dodgier areas to escape. He went to a criminal bar, run by an affiliate of an international drug gang. The bar catered to every criminal who didn't directly conflict with the gang, and so Sebastian was welcome.

After he had been dishonorably discharged from Her Majesty's Army, he had become fairly famous in the criminal ring. As one of the best snipers in the army- possibly the world- many famous and rich crime lords had wanted him as part of their empire, but while he was still in the army, still one of the angels, they had laid off, dreaming that maybe they could turn him. When he was discharged, however, Sebastian Moran, sniper extroidinaire, had suddenly become fair game. He had been sent various letters without return addresses asking him to do various jobs, become a henchman, a professional criminal sniper. They offered to break him out of jail and to make him rich. He didn't accept any one of those offers. He spent his time in jail and was even released early on good behavior. It was then he began accepting offers. He didn't officially affiliate himself with any particular organization, but he took the occasional job for companies and crime lords, taking out various politicians, business men and unfortunate, idiotic people who crossed Sebastian's clients.

The bar was hot and filled with the cigarette smoke of decades of criminals, some of them dead long ago, some still kicking. Slow jazz music played from a small radio behind the bar while the barkeep dried glasses. Sebastian entered through the back entrance and took a seat at the bar.

"One whiskey, and give me the best you have," Sebastian demanded as he pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

The barkeep placed the glass on the counter along with an ash tray. Sebastian swallowed down the whiskey, completely unappreciative the high quality. He set it back down and it was refilled.

Sebastian was aware that this was quite possibly the last night of drinking he would ever have so he didn't care about the tab he was quickly building up with every drink. He didn't notice nor care about any of the other people in the bar. He didn't notice the Afghani war lord dressed in a suit and speaking with a chemical weapons distributer. He didn't notice the drug lord negotiating prices with a supplier. He didn't notice the terrorist ring leader planning his next bombing. And Sebastian especially didn't notice the most remarkable man in the room. The man was sitting alone on the other side of the bar, casually sipping a gin and tonic with an immensely bored expression on his face. He was dressed in an impeccable Westwood suit and wore a black tie with little skulls printed on it. His entire posture and look screamed intimidation, even if his face didn't, but Sebastian caring only about drinking away his problems, didn't notice him.

Sebastian was trying to figure out his problem. He knew he couldn't run forever, and even if he tried, he would fail. The only way he could solve this was to take out his enemy, but he knew that they would be on high alert. They already were when he took out the fake target, but now the security around the proper target would be doubled, possibly tripled. Sebastian was smart enough to know that it would be nothing but stupid to try to kill the target, but he knew no other way. He knew he couldn't do it alone. The shot he could take, but the security would be too strong for an ex-army colonel to penetrate. He would have to work with someone, but none of his previous clients had enough resources or enough intelligence to pass the security. Sebastian would have been able to see the man who could do it though if he had bothered to pay any attention to his surroundings. The man who could solve all of Sebastian's problems was also the only other lonely man in the room. The only man who was staring directly at Sebastian.

James Moriarty knew exactly what Sebastian's problem was, of course he did, hardly a difficult deduction. James Moriarty also knew that Sebastian was too caught up in trying to solve his problem to look around for help. Therefore, James Moriarty would have to take matters into his own hands.

Jim walked up to Sebastian and said in the most nonchalant voice with a soft Irish lilt, "I see you have a problem."

"Yes, and one I doubt anyone could solve."

"Well, I'm not just anyone."

That caught Sebastian's attention and he looked up at the man in the Vivianne Westwood suit with the skull tie. He couldn't deny he was attractive, and more than a bit creepy.

"How do you even know you could solve my problem, not-just-anyone?"

"Because, Colonel Sebastian Moran, previously of Her Majesty's Army and sniper wonder, I'm more than a man. You may have heard of me. I'm a whisper, a name no one ever speaks, that is, unless it's the last thing they speak. I'm James Moriarty, and you could say I practically run European crime."

"The elusive Mr. Moriarty. What a pleasure," Sebastian replied sarcastically. Why would the Napoleon of Crime decide to talk to him. He didn't care if he sassed him, he was going to die anyway.

Jim ignored the sarcasm and instead replied, "You need me or your dead. I'll help you stay alive under one condition. You become my head sniper and personal bodyguard."

Sebastian thought the offer over, die almost surely, or finally affiliate himself with an organization and essentially become the lapdog of the most dangerous man in London.

"And what exactly would this job entail"

"You'd go wherever I tell you and kill whoever I tell you. When you are not on a hit, you will be my body guard. You will protect me and in turn I will keep you alive. You will move into my flat to further protect me. You will be paid very well, and I can assure you one thing, you will never be bored."

Sebastian had been doubtful before then, but if there was anything Jim Moriarty knew how to do it was to exploit weaknesses, and adrenaline was Sebastian Moran's biggest weakness.

"You know who's trying to kill me then"

"I already have men on the way to execute him."