Thanks for reviewing~ I do my best writing during Biology and History, I think. Anyway, please continue reviewing and whatnot. 3 You guys are all really lovely. Sorry again for the horrible flashback. Saoirse agrees how horrid it was.


"Best let him toy with Sherlock Holmes," she said finally, shivering at the vague memory. Her brother was twisted, and she did well to stay away from him when he was in one of his moods. What had happened that day was an accident, even though Jim had never apologized. But he left her alone whenever she was being intimate with Sebastian, and she left him alone when he was doing the same. It was a silent mutual agreement that they had, that it would inevitably lead to disaster if he cared too much. He could—he would rape her again. His sister. "His game is ending soon, anyway."

"What's your plan?"

"What plan?" she said innocently, twisting her lips into a smirk. She moved her hand and gently caressed his hand, rubbing her thumb over his calloused skin, squeezing her eyes shut painfully before opening them again, sighing. "Sebastian, stay out of it. I've been in contact with the other Holmes. He's trying to take my brother down."

"Whose side are you even on?" Sebastian threw his arms up exasperatedly, bringing them down to clutch the hand that was still extended towards her. Saoirse was probably one of the most confusing women he'd ever met in his life.

She suffered from numerous psychological tragedies and Sebastian attributed her insanity to the experiences she had. Sebastian rued seeing the day she decided she didn't need him anymore and actually removed his fingers from his body one by one.

"I'm on my side," she murmured, finishing off her tea. "I'm not going to interfere with whatever Jim's planning, but I'm not necessarily helping the Holmeses either. I'm merely interacting with Sherlock as I owe Mycroft this favour."

"You owe the Queen nothing," he said sharply.

"Your prejudice, or mine?" she said lightly, laughing a little. He cringed. He knew her so well. Sebastian had been discharged dishonourably from Afghanistan after brutally committing genocide on multiple villages, but on direct orders from the ministry. He'd raped and pillaged and god, he missed the war. It was why when the Moriarty's had showed up in the alleyway that he'd been residing in years ago that he jumped up to help them. He missed it. He craved the blood and flesh of war, and the Moriarty siblings were to bring it to him.

"How'd Ariadne doing?" he averted the subject.

"Fine," she shrugged. "She's fine. Hanging in there. Sherlock Holmes analysed her today. Got her all correct, he's sharper than I thought he was."

"But you're not Ariadne anymore," he pointed out.

"No," she laughed. "Which also makes him the biggest idiot in the world, doesn't it? I think his friend Mr Watson actually recognized me."

"As Althea?"

"Yeah," she shrugged. "But you know Anthea's really just me with my face buried in a phone. He's got a real PA. Pretty little thing," she said absentmindedly, stirring her drink around.

"I don't understand why you let Mycroft cart you around like that."

"He has no evidence to arrest me," she laughed, stealing some of his whisky. She smacked her lips afterwards. Sebastian raised his lips to his whisky glass again, licking carefully where her lips had rested just before. "I like to think he keeps me around to pick something he can take me in for. Part of me thinks he harbours some sort of sentiment to me. Doesn't want Jim to get to me when he's in one of his moods. You know how brother dearest can be."

"You're insane."

"Only for you," she winked, getting up and throwing a wad of cash on the table before leaning over to kiss him. "Take a shower at my place? Jim's going to be at your flat tomorrow morning and you smell dreadfully a lot like me right now. I've got your shampoos and I don't terribly mind smelling like you," she looked over her shoulder and winked. His pants tightly considerably as he shot up and raced after her swaying hips.

Saoirse awoke with the sun blazing into her weary eyes. She buried her face into Sebastian's bare chest, his hand squeezing her closer to his body. He let out a small groaning noise and she sighed contently, kissing her favourite scar of his—the one that she'd left on him, the one an inch away from his heart—and slipped away from his grasp, stretching a little before tip-toeing to the kitchen without any intention of putting clothing on.

It must have been a hilarious scene from anybody looking in; a naked girl standing in front of a kettle as if staring at it would make the water boil any faster; hair mussed up and love bites spotting her chest. When it boiled, she nearly splattered it everywhere because she hadn't been paying proper attention—she jumped as it nearly missed her toes and managed to get most of the water into the teapot.

"I love a woman that makes breakfast for me," Sebastian's nude body pressed against her back, his arms reaching around to cup her breasts tenderly.

"It's not breakfast," she said, wiggling out of his grasp to pour the tea and handing him a cup. "And we're not dating. Don't say the "L" word so meaninglessly."

Saoirse coveted love. She didn't believe she loved Sebastian, which is why she'd never said it to him, but she wanted him and that was enough for her to keep him around. She wanted him because he was there, and because she wanted everything that her brother had. She was admittedly jealous, because James had gotten to Sebastian before her. Saoirse at first thought she wasn't capable of love, much like Ariadne, because of her past. Compared to Jim, she was more passive, her passion more subdued. Without parental love as a child, she found it hard to believe that she could compare her feelings to anything, so she decided that she didn't love anything.

Ariadne was different. Ariadne did not love because she saw her father abuse her and Jim; because her mother was evil, because they had decided to pull life support and didn't feel anything from it. Her biggest secret of all, however, was that she was not guilty enough for doing this next thing: she had killed her father.

It wasn't survivor's guilt; far from it. She believed that in order to experience survivor's guilt you had to at least somehow sympathise for the victim, but her father was not a victim. She knew exactly what had happened, but Saoirse had disassociated after the event and made things messy. Their father had, in fact, "run into a bunch of knives multiple times," as the police report said, but nobody could pin it on two innocent-looking children. Jim hadn't even wanted to approach their father with a weapon, claiming that he deserved to live and suffer watching them grow up and be happier than he—but Ariadne wanted more. She said that justice was equality for those that do equal things, a la Aristotle, and said that because their parents had physically abused them, their payout would be physical hurt as well.

"Love love love," Sebastian continued, ignoring Saoirse's uncomfortable stare, snickering into his cup of tea. "I know we're not dating. Jim thinks he's dating me. I can't very well date the both of you, can I?"

"It's not stopped you in other situations," she pointed out, bringing him back to the memory of the time he'd bedded an entire family of siblings before they'd realized what had happened and beaten him out of their house permanently.

He smiled sheepishly. "I'd rather not get fired by Boss." She wrinkled her nose at her brother's title.

"If he's your Boss and your boyfriend, what am I?"

"You're my partner in crime," he winked, dropping a kiss on her shoulder before taking her teacup from her and putting both of their cups in the sink. He lifted her and put her on the counter, ignoring her swatting hands. Bending down, he trailed kisses up her smooth thighs before taking her with his mouth, her fingers immediately reaching forward to grab his hair to bring his face closer to her warmth.

"I think I'll keep you," she groaned. He responded by lifting her up and dropping her on the empty table.

Later, he was lightly peppering kisses on her neck when her alarm went off. She pushed him off gently and went to her bedroom, where she read her phone time as 8AM. "Sebastian?"

"What?" he groaned, walking into the bedroom again, stretching his sore muscles.

"Come take that shower with me," she said hurriedly. "I've got my shift in half an hour and you've got to be at your flat to meet Jim." He cursed inwardly, but let her herd him to the bathroom, where they emerged slightly more than the ten minutes it needed for them to shower. He reached down to kiss her before she left the flat, but she ducked out of the way. "He'll know if he kisses you," she warned before blowing him a kiss anyway and stepping out the door.