My hands were stained with her blood- this one had turned out to be a lot messier than I had suspected. Despite her delicate lightweight frame and lack of fighting skills she tried her best to put up a fight in self defence. Unfortunately for her, that didn't work. I didn't know why he wanted her killed and I never managed to make a connection between the two. Looking down at her bruised face half concealed by her tangled blonde hair, I presumed she was just a distraction for him; someone completely random. Despite knowing that her murder would in no way, shape or form help Jim, I couldn't just leave her alive. His rewards are too important to me, too good to be missed, especially for some unknown girl. Everyone gets bored, and Jim Moriarty is certainly no exception.
Upon noticing the sticky glistening substance on my palms, Jim grinned in that violent way that I secretly adored. He suddenly appeared inches from my face, my hands in his. Lifting my left palm up to his moist lips, he ran them down the artery until they reached the blood stain, where they then parted and his warm tongue swept over the tangy, metallic substance. The obscenity of him pulled a deep sigh from my own mouth. His eyes fluttered shut as his taste buds took in the blood and traced the lines of my hand. "Seb?" He whispered, pulling his mouth away from my now blood free palm.
"Yes?" I tried to conceal that faint stammer in my voice. He didn't need to know that the weak feeling was beginning to form at the backs of my knees.
"I need you to do something for me."
"Whatever you want, boss."
He chuckled lightly.
"This is something different Seb, something new. You see, I seem to have landed myself in rather a problematic situation and I need your help."
"What do you need?"
Jim seemed visibly pleased at my willingness to assist him.
"How's your aim?"
"As sharp as ever."
"Good, good. I have another target for you, but there is something you must do."
"Who?"
"Doctor John Hamish Watson."
"What was the thing I must do?"
"Tomorrow you will find him outside St. Bart's hospital. You do not kill him if you see his little friend jump from the hospital rooftop and hit the floor beneath him. If Mr Sherlock Holmes decides to spare his own life, you end John's. Do you understand?"
"Yes sir."
"Wonderful. Now Seb, I must be going. I... I have things I need to deal with…"
"What about your 'situation'?"
"That will be solved tomorrow." Jim looked away from me and his eyes darted to the floor. It was then that I witnessed an alien emotion spread across his features- fear.