The night before Jim's death had been serene. The storm that his obsession had permanently cast in the pinch of his eyebrows and set of his lips seemed to subside. Everything was in place he said with great confidence and a lazy smile. Tomorrow he would defeat Sherlock Holmes. Sebastian could hear him say it even now with a smug grin.

'Stop his head with his heart and set fire to the ruins.' The plan had been elegant. Sebastian was certain nothing could go wrong.

"And what of after" he had asked innocently as he watched Jin load the blanks in to the gun.

"You'll see my pet, just wait."

That night Jim had not left when he was finished with him, but instead stayed and absent mindedly traced over the welts he had left until Sebastian fell asleep with an arm wrapped around him. As his thoughts gradually became less formed he foolishly allowed himself to hope. Jim's weight pressed against him kept the worst of the nightmares away. Whispers of I love you died before they could leave his lungs because he knew Jim would just laugh and tell him to get a grip.

"I love you."

'Oh I know my pet. The easiest way to control a fool is through his heart'

John Watson stiffened when he awoke and slowly rolled up to sitting the acute pain of recent injury written on his every move. He groped around for his cane. His other arm was braced stiffly against the mattress shaking trying to hold him up against the imagined burden of his agony. Sebastian watched as he began the wretched trek to the kitchenette in the flat.

He watched John go about his day and made notes of little habits as they presented themselves. He knew he only did so because if he had anyone who understood him at this moment, a kindred spirit it was this man. John still wore his dog tags tucked under his shirt. He carried a pistol tucked in to the back of his waist band. The obvious things marked him a military man, the less obvious, the ones Moran was trained to look for, marked him as a broken one. His hand would wrap around the handles of two mugs when he reached in to the cupboard before he would pause and correct himself with a sigh. There were certain places in the flat which he actively avoided, he kept a journal and tried to pretend he didn't cry when he wrote in it even though no one was around to witness it. Before he fell asleep he lit a cigarette and watched it burn to the filter never bringing it to his lips.

'Thirty two now that the window is open.' He heard Jim whisper gleefully as the cigarette slowly flickered out and the smoke lazily dissipated.

"You never believed in mercy." He said. "And at this point killing him would be just that. Trust me."

'But you do my pet. And what am I but a projection?' He could hear the raise in Jim's eyebrows and the smirk that would follow. I also believed in you. Sebastian thought bitterly. Look where that got me.

Streetlights were beginning to blink on in anticipation of night creeping in to the city in the coming hour. Sebastian made his way through the ever present crowd trying his best not to observe. The numbers jumped out at him anyway… 14, 54, 4; five if you wait till the intersection… each presenting their own little spark of temptation.

'You still believe in me. You can't get rid of me and you know it.' Jim said. 'I'm all you have.' Sebastian began walking faster even though he knew the voice would come with him regardless of speed.

The sun was just falling behind the horizon shrouding everything in a somber shade of purple when Sebastian stepped out of the cab at the cemetery. As he wove his way through the stones he spotted another figure at the grave site. The man had pale short blonde hair and for a second Sebastian tried to figure out how Dr. Watson had arrived here in shorter time than he had. He hung back as to not disturb the man in his mourning. He quickly realized that the man was too tall, too lean. The man turned and as he saw his silhouette sick dread crept in to Sebastian's mind. A clammy chill slid its way down his neck as the realization the Sherlock Holmes was alive slowly worked its way in to his brain.

For the first time in his life action, or even the thought of it, completely evaded him. He watched frozen as the minimally disguised man bent down and traced the letters on his own headstone. When he stood he held a single red rose delicately between his fingers. It was only slightly withered. Two days old at most.

Sebastian had always assumed that Sherlock, like Jim, truly was a sociopath, that John Watson had served a greater purpose to the detective. He watched Sherlock hold the flower as if it were an injured bird. His facial expressions alternated between a deep frown and a miniscule smile. The difference Sebastian saw in the facial expressions only made him feel more fragile. Jim had never told Sebastian that he loved him. If he had it would have been a manipulative lie. Not only had he lost everything, but he had never had it in the first place.

Sherlock turned to leave the grave site and for the first time took notice of Sebastian lurking ten yards back. Sebastian pretended to not notice that the man walking away from the tombstone was the one supposedly the one buried underneath it. Out of the corner of his eye he could see that Sherlock's face was haggard and unshaven.

'Eight' Jim whispered gleefully. New vigor had found its way back in to his voice. It was the type of excitement that only the proposition of facing one of the Holmes brothers had been able to put there.

"Moran." The detective said. It was not a question. As the sound of the man's voice reached his ears new anger washed over him. It was a level of rage he had never before experienced and it seeped in to the cracks the sorrow had left and lit them on fire. He had survived. They had lost. It had all been for nothing.

"Holmes." Their eyes locked for just a second before Sherlock began rapidly examining his every trait starting with his shoes and working his way up. It was a frantic gesture, not as showy as what Jim so often did but even so Sebastian recognized it.

'Five. Don't waste any more time you fool' Jim said. But Sebastian ignored him. A better plan was already forming in his head. 'Ooh very good dearie. I like it.' Jim nearly purred as he watched the thoughts take shape.

"Four… Three." Sebastian looked at the detective in surprise as he counted the options out loud.

"Your time frame for stealth has long passed, but I'm sure you are perfectly aware of that. Which begs the question, why are you here Colonel?" The detective asked. His eyes narrowed to a squint as he tilted his head to one side. Sebastian smiled and brushed past him.

"An eye for an eye is the only Justice detective. And let me make it very clear. I. Owe. You." He said spitting out every word. The detective tensed behind him. Sebastian kept walking and from behind him he heard Sherlock quietly whisper a single word.

"John."