Jim grinned evilly as he held up the gun and shot it. Darkness swallowed his vision.
Jim was up on that roof. Up there with Sherlock Holmes. Seb hated that name. Hated that man. He seethed with anger as he watch his Jim dance around Holmes. As he played his game.
Seb didn't like this game. He had protested that Jim shouldn't get this close. Shouldn't put himself in danger. That was Seb's job. Not his. Jim had finally gotten annoyed enough that he had sent Seb away.
Seb growled to himself. Jim had made Seb's job so much harder. He couldn't protect his kitten if he sent him away. Rather useless body guard, in his opinion. Seb continued to complain and grumble until he heard that lone gunshot.
One shot.
And his world shattered.
Seb made it back to their apartment by some stroke of luck. He trashed everything he could get his hands on and mauled the furniture. He broke down in the middle of the mess and cried himself to sleep.
He left the apartment and went rogue for months. Wandering and having no purpose. Something was taking down Jim's web but Seb couldn't give a fuck. His kitten was gone. There was nothing left for him here. He took jobs around the world, trying to forget Jim. He always went back to the apartment to check on it but never stayed more than a few minutes. It was devoid of any reason to stay. Jim had become his whole life. His reason for being on the face of the planet that his Boss had secretly ruled. Everything was gone.
He traveled back to the first place he met Jim. It had a poetry to it, dying in the place his true life had begun. It was raining as he walked into the dirty alleyway behind the dingy bar in London. He leaned against the wall away from the bars kitchen and loaded his favorite handgun with his last bullet.
Then a single shot took the Tiger to follow his master.
Jim strolled into their apartment happily, it had been months since he had been home. He had finally taken down his web now that the game was finished and was happy to return home to his Tiger. He had heard Seb went rogue but he knew Seb wouldn't leave their apartment. He knew it would be trashed, but it wouldn't be deserted. He opened the door and burst in, expecting to see his tiger in the room. But he wasn't.
Jim frowned but wasn't deterred. He walked to their bedroom. Nothing. His frown deepened. He checked the bathroom. Nothing again. Maybe Seb was on some job. He sat on the couch and waited. He waited for twenty-four hours, sitting on the couch and playing with a Rubik's cube while he sat there. Anxiety began to plague his thoughts. Where was he? Did he have a big job? One that required more than a twenty-four hour stakeout? Even he hadn't done that.
His phone rang. "What?" He snapped out.
"Sir," Charlie's voice sounded. "I have some information I think you should know."
"Well, what is it?" Jim hissed.
"Sir, Sebastian is dead."
Jim's blood became ice. "What?" He whispered, sounding like a child.
"He killed himself last night. The body was found just a few hours ago in the alley you recruited him."
"Where is he now?" Jim's voice grew weaker.
"They have him."
"Who?"
"Scotland Yard."
Greg ran a hand through his hair and sighed. He had managed to keep his job (barely) and was being put under all sorts of pressure from the brass to prove himself. The whole Sherlock escapade had been rough, but he had survived (kinda). He turned to Donovan.
"So what have we got here?" He looked around the crime scene.
"One body. One bullet. Suicide." Donovan answered.
"Great. No weird hidden evidence anywhere is there?"
"Other than the guy being Moriarty's right hand man, then no."
"What?" Greg looked at her. "What did you just say?"
"It's Moriarty's right hand man."
"Moriarty's… Right hand man? How in hell do we know that?" He walked back to the body and crouched down next to it. The body still had a gun in it's hand, eyes closed, and blood trailing down it's head and chest from the bullet hole to the temple.
"We . . . ah . . . found out he went rogue after Moriarty's death."
"That it?"
"And apparently Moriarty is still alive."
"Why wasn't I informed of this earlier?" Greg paused. "And if Moriarty is alive, why is his right hand man here by suicide? And what's his name again?"
"Sebastian Moran. You were busy with Mr. Holmes, remember? And I don't know everything." Donovan rolled her eyes.
"This is just great." Greg sighed again and got up.
"Where is he?!" Jim snarled, bursting into the alleyway.
"And who are you?" Greg moved in front of the relatively short man who just burst in on his crime scene.
"You know exactly who I am! Now, I will ask one more time. Where. Is. He?!"
"I'm sorry sir. We can't let anyone onto the crime scene without proper identification."
"I'm Jim fucking Moriarty. How's that for identification?!" Jim snarled.
Greg blinked at him shocked before moving to cuff him. "I'm sorry, Mr. Moriarty, but you are under arrest for crimes against Queen and Country. You have the right to remain silent but please don't. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law."
Jim shoved him away. "Not until I see him!" Greg nodded to Donovan who moved out of the way. Jim raced over to Seb's body and knelt by it. "Sebby?" He whispered. "Tiger, get up." Greg looked away, but stayed on alert. "Sebby, please." Tears filled his eyes. "Please get up."
Jim continued prodding Seb's body. "Sebby, please."
Greg pulled his hands behind him and cuffed the evil mastermind. Jim didn't feel Greg put the cuffs on him as he stared at the body. "Sebby . . ." He whispered weakly.
Greg walked over to Donovan. "Well, this was unexpected." He looked up. "We'd better wrap this up soon, guys. Looks like a sudden shower."
Jim didn't notice as everyone packed up around him and left. Eventually, the only people left were Greg and Sebastian. "No . . ." He whispered. "You can't be dead . . ."
And there he sat, with Lestrade standing over him. Mourning for his lost sniper in the rain.
