Sebastian Moran doesn't know why his boss is never up to kill him. Not when he makes mistakes, not when he doesn't gets anger after an stupid joke, never. Even when he already had the excuse to the mistake, James didn't even ask! For example today, how he could know the girl was going to figure the hole plan out and call Sherlock? And, manly, how could he know she was going out the building when, supposedly, she should be locked on a room? Ok, it was reckless, he is never like that, his job was not be so, he deserved punishment and he was fine with it. But James didn't even asked anything, the assassin wonder if he already knew about it and had time to decide if he cared or not.

While he observes the younger and shirtless man dance uppon his two dead man multilated bodies, the sniper tries to crack the mind of James Moriarty. The most dangerous and brilliant man he knew. The beautiful on that position James Moriarty.

The naked foot covered in blood, the falling jeans, one that show to much of the pale rips, the messy hair and, the prettiest part, the probably hot pistol on one hand, and the dagger on the other, liking in red. After calling Sebastian and his men to his apartment/office, and making an speech about the importance of making plans go right, the small man, like a little panther, jumped with a small knife in hand and cut the throat of one of them while rose the hidden gun and shot the other twice in the head. Quick and efficient.

Sebastian, afterwards, while watching his boss slothering the dead bodies, wonders why does Moriarty even need him.

As his personal bodyguard and the one leading the failed missing to get the girl, Moran thought, for a second, the next shot was on his chest, and, before dying, the consulting criminal were rip a lot of little pieces of his body. There was no other reason for James to call him on his personal apartment when he was going to kill those man, the logic was to Sebastian to be killed too. But, as always, not following the logic, the younger man, with the bright dark eyes, just turned to him, almost friendly smiling and asked, calmly:

— Seb, do you mind to find some substitutes? In these... — he places the bloody feet on the dead man's shot head — I want to have fun. Anatomy, ya know?

Seb... James Moriarty was the first to give Moran a friendly nickname, and it amuses the assassin. Everything in his boss in fact. Specially when the pale man took his shirt of to "have fun" with the dead bodies. Sebastian is sure, based on his experience on the army, he normally were going to be disgusted of the pleasure of mutilation the kid fund, but James... He was different, everything on him was different, curious, actually.

Sebastian, knowing he shouldn't be so amused with the craziness of his boss, pulls his notebook of the leather coat and, not noticing how his own breathing start to race following the boy's frequency, scrabble a little of the picture. Later, when in his bed, not managing to sleep, he could use it as a base to a much prettier drawing. Another for his collection.

Observing the skin of his boss carefully, the assassin can't keep the rage away. Without the make up he was using to important meetings, James still looked sick. Beautiful, yes, but delicate, like a butterfly. He was skinner then normal, his lips were still marked, just like the pretty cheeks, his fingers were still broken and, even with his denials, Sebastian could see his moviments were slower then normal.

All of those little things were making Moran feel several bad shivers through his chest. The small man was his boss, his responsibility, and he was strangely important for him, personally. And there was James: beaten, tortured, and humiliated, and, even if it was part of the plan, it was all Mycroft Holmes fault.

— Why couldn't I kill the fucking girl? — he stands up, putting the pensil back on his pocket, and start walking through the room. James turns to his bodyguard, he was really a tiger when angry, walking like in a cage, with hunger. Beautiful with the scars on his face, the dusty hair, and the glorious furious eyes. James wonder if he was keeping the sniper for a good view or because of his habilities — She was right there, in front of Holmes flat! I could shot her from the celling, she would die on John Watson's arms.

— Boring! — James jumps one of the dead bodies with the elegance of a ballerina and lands right in front of Sebastian. They would be face to face, if the younger wasn't so short, but the sniper would never say something about it, because of his love for his own life, of course. And, he likes to believe, his self-love was the responsible for his lack of urge over the other. Yes, the tamptation, Sebastian wouldn't resist it on another time, with another person, not so close to a younger and attractive man was James. But he didn't have the urge of taking the boss, he never had, Sebastian couldn't imagine himself over the boy, not over those evil yet sweet check bones — Killing her is boring, Seb! I want her. Talk with her. Isn't she fascinating? After everything she went through, and rose by Mycroft... It would be much more easy if you and these incompetents — he points to the bodies, passing so close to Sebastian he could smell the expensive perfume of the skin body — had got her for me! But no! You lose her, and, put her on the safest school in hole Britain, and made her uncle double the security around her.

James bonds over his desk, looking at his plans and pictures of targets, he looked incredible delighted with something, behind the angry, of course, amuse with something his sniper couldn't see. Sincerely, Sebastian didn't knew half of those people in the pictures taken on the same day, and it wasn't a problem for him. His eyes focus on the tall man dressed in a suit, Mycroft Holmes, his target, he was going to finish the man.

The rage come from down in his stomach to his chest, hitting on the ribs, as he imagine the almost bold man observing as James is beaten and humiliated, enjoying it certainly, maybe doing something himself, with the small evil man so vulnerable. The Tiger let his eyes run through the naked back of his boss, the pale skin marked, he deserved more than that treatment, Sebastian could treat him way better if the boy wanted, without the urge, he could be lot more gentle than normal.

— I want to prove a point, Seb... — the colonel rise his eyes, the dark eyes were on his pictures, the sniper let go the breath, glad his boss didn't cough him in his lust. He really didn't knew — To Mycroft Holmes, to Sherlock, to anyone. I want to learn more, I need more, the great fall has to be perfect, I can't let any lose end... And she — he puts his finger on the picture of the very pale and with a very sad looking, having deep eyes and being to skinny, girl — Is the...

— Wait, boss... — the tiger grabs the picture between his hands and James, even having to take a deep breath for being interrupted, enjoys the smile he let go. The consulting criminal once read a book about a man who could give that same smile, the 'smile of Lucifer', that comes from the lips, goes through the scars on his pretty cheeks, but didn't reach his eyes, the beautiful and cold blue eyes — I know this one here — he points to the smilly teacher beside Louise Holmes — We already had fun together.

— You already said that about Needhan, it didn't help us much — James pulls himself to sit on the desk, he would never admit it's by Sebastian knew he enjoyed that because of his size, the kid wanted to be as tall as the bodyguard. Some theories about confidence problems put up in his mind, but lack of confidence wasn't a problem for the tiny evil being — Who is this one? Handsome...

The deep breath Sebastian gives amuses James, for some unimportant human reason, one he just ignores immediately.

— Very handsome, I'm fact — once again Seb gives the 'smile of Lucifer', full of past satisfaction, but it doesn't gives the same pleasure to his boss. He actually knew the man in the photo well, too well, once again, James ignores, or tries, the human feeling. — We serve together, we had a lot of fun that time — James understands exactly what he is talking about, and, unexpectedly, he imagines himself uppon the smilly man, with a knife, yes, he could cut his throat, for fun, not because of Sebastian, of course — You know him too, boss, in that mission you put me, against Neal Peters — the consultant criminal rise the dark eyes to the multilated face of the sniper — Exactly this one. Isn't interesting he is so... — he rise the picture, looking through the light, coming closer to James, letting him gets his strong smell of alcohol and wood — Calm. Closer to his ex who put him through hell?

James follows the blonde's finger to the, almost not in the picture, image of Mycroft Holmes. Ideas just put in his head as he remembers what happened, so many data, he could build more than on plan that could be fun. Lot of fun, and it could be very useful, in the girl situation. His mind travel a little while he let his body fall on the table, arms above the head, eyes slightly closed and bouncing legs.

Sebastian wonders if his boss was trying to be sexy, or it was really that natural to him. The colar bones against the skin, even the hurt chest, and manly the waving hips, made the sniper question his own loyalty, really, maybe he could just jump in the boy and leave after have fun.

— Seb, I want the girl — James sits, making a little pout, almost denying the evilness of his being and desarming completely his bodyguard, Sebastian Moran couldn't hurt him really. — You gonna get her for me.

— Sure. How, boss?