Come on. Pick up the phone pick up the phone pick up the goddamn phone.
It had been twenty minutes already since Sebastian had left the graveyard, trying to cover a mile with every stride he made. He had to distance himself. Distance himself in case Moriarty's 'ghosts' were still watching. Then again, if they were, he'd be screwed anyway when they saw Mycroft's goons coming to rescue Mary. If they rescued Mary.
Fuck, he felt so guilty. He couldn't imagine how afraid she must have been, but from what he'd seen in her eyes, he knew it wasn't the kind of fear someone forgot.
Sebastian shivered and dialed Mycroft a third time. Mercifully, there was finally an answer.
"Moran, this had better be important."
The sniper frowned, "Why? Are you busy? It's five in the morning!"
"It is precisely 5:55 am, therefore when rounded up it is approximately six o'clock am. Aren't maths a joy?"
Sebastian wasn't appreciating the jab at his intelligence, but he shook it off, "Look," he lowered his voice, "I don't have time to chat. Moriarty did something and I need to know you'll be able to help right away."
Mycroft sounded like he was stifling a sigh, "Moran, I am a very busy man-"
"So am I! This is important!"
Something in the urgency of Sebastian's voice must have convinced Holmes, because, after a pause, he yielded.
"Fine. What is it? I hope you know Moriarty could very well be listening to this."
"It doesn't matter!" Sebastian cried, "There's no time! He buried a girl alive as part of a sort of initiation for me and she's down there right now! In someone else's coffin!"
An infuriating silence followed.
"Well?" Sebastian prompted.
"Is that it?"
The sniper couldn't believe what he was hearing. What kind of soulless monster heard a story like this and respond with anything other than alarm?
Maybe Holmes hadn't heard him correctly.
"Did I mention she was buried alive?"
"Moran, once again, I am a busy man. The life of one person who will probably be dead by the time we can reach her anyway matters nothing to me. Kindly take a moment to reflect on the severity of your emergency the next time you think of dialing my number."
With a horrifying, final click, the bastard hung up.
(o0o0o0o0)
"Now," Mycroft turned back to face Sherlock and John again, "Where were we?"
"Who was that?" John nodded at the phone in the elder Holmes's hand, and Mycroft took a moment to consider his answer.
"A friend."
"To you, or to us?"
Mycroft chuckled humorlessly, "Who says not both, doctor Watson? You and he share a great deal in common. I'm sure you'd get along swimmingly."
"So do Sherlock and Moriarty, and yet here we are."
Any mask of friendliness Mycroft may have been feigning was wiped away in the blink of an eye, to be replaced by a scowl.
"Here we are," Mycroft repeated darkly, "Tell me again, what was the last thing he said?"
Sherlock, who was lying on the couch behind where John stood, was trying very hard to be absorbed out of existence and into the fabric. Mycroft was like a mosquito. If he managed to sniff you out, there would never be an end to his buzzing around in your business, no matter how many times you slapped at him. Sherlock knew that from experience. The detective sighed loudly.
"Tell me again, why did you have to make this little visit at five am?" Sherlock didn't even need to open his eyes to see Mycroft's glare.
"It is six am, brother mine, and you were both awake, anyway. This was the only convenient opening in my schedule."
Sherlock raised his eyebrows, "Hm. Good to know I'm top priority."
"Sherlock, for God's sake," John scolded him tiredly, "We're trying to help. What was the last thing Moriarty said? Something like 'don't you know what happens if-?'"
"'-if you don't leave me alone," Sherlock finished, remembering the way Jim's face had contorted as he'd screamed. Since last night, the criminal's end of the Bond had been strangely numb. It was almost alarming, the lack of feeling.
Mycroft's chin tilted up, "And he was distressed?" It wasn't really phrased as a question.
"Yeah," John nodded affirmatively, "Though it could have been acting. I don't know."
"He wasn't acting!" Sherlock snapped for what felt like the thousandth time, "I'd have known. No one can fake a breakdown straight down to their core. I could feel the whole thing."
"He's a very good actor, Sherlock," John said quietly, making Sherlock grit his teeth. Why wouldn't they listen to him?
"Mm," Mycroft hummed, "What did the hospital say?"
Sherlock groaned obscenely loudly, and a short silence followed that likely consisted of an eye roll shared between the other two men in the room. He didn't need to open his eyes to deduce that much.
"Nothing," John finally spoke, "He's caught nothing, thank God."
It felt like Sherlock's blood was boiling, "If you had just listened to me, we wouldn't have had to go through that whole ordeal!"
John scoffed, and Sherlock finally sat up in time to watch him say, "Like we're going to trust what Jim Moriarty told you about his sexual history! Common sense, Sherlock."
The detective huffed, lying down again.
"I've developed a plan," Mycroft announced coolly, "That will work regardless of how strong the Bond is."
Sherlock listened intently.
"What?" John urged the older Holmes on.
"Simple, really," Mycroft explained, "As soon as we have enough information to capture Moriarty, we sedate him. Keep him alive and under a close watch, but unconscious. We ensure he is fed and all his other needs taken care of, so that Sherlock doesn't suffer, but he is incapable of using his thoughts to manipulate."
"Brilliant!" John approved, "Why didn't we think of this before?"
"Because it's highly illegal." "Because I'll be in a perpetual state of drowsiness." Mycroft and Sherlock spoke at the same time, and the detective sat up once more to glare at his brother.
"I won't be able to take cases anymore. Either that, or I'll have to start snorting expresso."
Mycroft smirked, "Hope you like coffee."
Sherlock stood up, looking from his brother to John, "Don't I get any say in this? I don't want to be sedated like a mad dog! And listen to me when I say," he took a challenging step towards Mycroft, "I didn't want to be Bonded to Moriarty. But now that I am, there's nothing I can do to change it. I'd rather spend my life fighting than spend it incapacitated!"
Mycroft's eyes glittered with malice, "Listen to me, brother mine," he said slowly, voice barely audible, "You don't know what's best for you. You should thank me."
He started towards the door, dialing a number on his phone. Sherlock fumed, watching his brother go and fighting the urge to run after him and shove him down the stairs. Instead, he settled for hollering after him.
"Why should I thank you for help I don't want?"
There was no response. John looked at him sympathetically, and Sherlock was just able to pick out a snippet of Mycroft's conversation before he shut the door behind him.
"Hello, Moran. I've changed my mind. Tell me about her."
(o0o0o0o0)
Sebastian started talking so quickly that he forgot he was currently standing outside of the building Moriarty lived in.
"She definitely used to work for him! I think they were close, too. Or, not close, but he trusted her, because he looked furious when he saw her. Mary Morstan is the headstone, but I don't know if it's her real name. The graveyard is…yeah," the sniper was surprised to hear Holmes recite a correct sounding address for the place. Maybe he had people helping him. Sebastian bit his lip, wondering how many people were actually listening in to this call.
And if one of them was Moriarty.
"It will be dealt with. Stay-"
But Sebastian had already hung up. Screw it. He wasn't going to sit at home while someone else cleaned up his mess. He couldn't stop thinking about how afraid that woman had looked when he'd thrown her into the dirt. He knew it would have absolutely no effect on the outcome, but Sebastian felt like if he was moving, she'd be more likely to live. Waiting patiently was not an option. The last time he'd hands on killed someone, he'd ruined his Army career and ended up homeless.
The sniper's walk to his car soon turned into a run.
(o0o0o0o0)
Sebastian was surprised, upon arriving at the graveyard, to see zero police lights. Frantically, he turned in a circle, scanning for any indication of a threat or an ambush. The place looked just as empty as he'd left it.
Fuck, where was Holmes? Mycroft had the world at his fingertips and was just going to let this woman suffocate under someone else's headstone? And he was the one with the law on his side! What kind of twisted world did they live in that Sebastian, the criminal, was the more moral of the two? At least, he thought he was more moral than Mycroft. Sure, he killed for a living, but there was something about those beady eyes he didn't like…
"It's fascinating to watch the gears struggling to turn."
Sebastian jumped and spun on his heel to face the very man he'd just been belittling. Mycroft Holmes looked sharp as ever in his usual expensive looking suit, leaning on a black umbrella that dug into the grassy ground.
"I thought you said you'd help!"
"Keep your voice down," Mycroft scolded urgently, "She's already out and on her way to the hospital. Obviously, we couldn't make a scene, but I needed to have a word with her before we could help."
"Before you could-?" Sebastian couldn't believe what he was hearing, "But she's-! I mean, yes," he acknowledged Holmes's raised eyebrow, "she worked for…him. But how long did you interrogate her after you pulled her out of the ground?"
Infuriatingly, Mycroft chuckled, "Mr. Moran, the interrogation hasn't even begun yet."
The sniper groaned, shaking his head, "Aren't you supposed to be the good guy?"
"Says the killer for hire."
"Well!" Sebastian couldn't articulate what he wanted, and settled for spreading his arms in a wide gesture, "But that's-"
"I think," Holmes drawled, "That I have been considerably good, Mr. Moran. Not only did I rescue a long time refugee from the law and clean up your mess, but I also decided to wait for you to inevitably show up here, ensuring you didn't do anything stupid in your lack of caution. Not to mention the fact that I decided to employ you in the first place, even after you've already shown yourself to be one of the worst examples of loyalty I've ever seen in a double agent. Oh, and," he opened his umbrella, elevating it above his head in a smooth motion, "All this before it could snow."
Sebastian couldn't think of anything to do other than glare at Holmes and seethe. Apparently, mother nature was also on the side of the British government, because tiny, wet flakes of snow were just starting to fall from a gray sky.
"I wanna see her," the sniper demanded, never breaking eye contact. Holmes didn't scare him.
It seemed like Mycroft wasn't very afraid of Sebastian, either. His facial expression didn't change.
"After we interrogate her. My assistant will be happy to give you a ride to the hospital."
Defeated, Sebastian nodded.
(o0o0o0o0)
"This will be as easy as you decide you want it to be."
Despite the small room she was in, the man's voice still seemed to echo. Maybe it was because she was still recovering from lack of oxygen.
Mary raised her eyes to look at the suited man in front of her. He had sharp features on a round face, and an icy glare that screamed cunning. It reminded her of Moriarty, almost. The consulting criminal had been less controlled, though. It was impossible to know when you were going to get burned by the anger he'd let consume him. The man in front of her was more…icy.
She liked it. She liked the control; the limits.
"I want it to be easy," she managed to say, her voice hoarse from sporadic use.
The man sighed, sounding tired, and held his hand out to her, "Mycroft Holmes. Though I trust Mr. Moriarty gave you my name a long time ago."
Mary hesitantly took it, and his palm was neutral against hers—neither chilled or warm, "No," she said honestly, "I mostly was given names of targets. Yours isn't familiar to me."
Holmes raised an eyebrow, breaking the handshake, "Mostly?"
"As his…favorite…one picks up on some things," she fought a shudder, not at her own words, but just at the memory of the madman himself.
Somehow, his brow raised further, prompting her on.
"Names. I can give you a few names, along with some projects I did in the past. In exchange for protection," she explained.
"You were his first in command?"
Mary frowned. She doubted anyone got close enough to Moriarty to be called by such a friendly term, but she nodded, regardless, "I suppose."
"What is your real name?" Holmes pushed her further.
"Moriarty knew me as Jo. I was Jolie Montagne," Mary found her voice grow very quiet at the end.
Mycroft Holmes watched her coolly, "French?"
Mary felt tears starting to well up, her eyes burning as she blinked them back, along with memories of her mother, tainted red. Her hand twitched, trying to shake the sensation of her father pulling her along, because 'we have to keep going, you have to be strong.'
"Only heritage. My French is très mauvais," she purposefully botched the accent, earning her no reaction from Holmes. A new memory, this time of a blond man in a café, sprung to the forefront of her mind, however.
Oh, God. He probably thought she'd blown off their date. It was such a silly thing for her to be upset over, given recent events, but Mary couldn't help but feel a little bit guilty. She wished she could have at least apologized first. Given him advance warning.
Holmes gave her a good number more questions, but eventually they ended up, inevitably, at the conclusion that she was to work for him now. In exchange for information on Moriarty, she'd be given safety, a new identity, and a place to live, at least temporarily. Mary thanked him graciously.
In no more than an hour, they were outside the hospital, underneath softly falling snow. Mary shivered, though not from cold. If no one had rescued her sooner, this could have all been on top of her.
This realization caused her to develop another question.
"How did you know about me?" she asked suddenly. Rather than answering, Holmes nodded towards the car in front of them. Curious, Mary opened the door and stepped inside.
There, sitting across from her, leaning his head against his window, was the boy that had buried her.
Mary eyed the stubble on his cheek. Man, boy…either way, he was not someone she was glad to see. She couldn't help a sharp intake of breath, and his head snapped her way.
She wasn't sure what she'd expected for him to do, but it certainly hadn't been for him to start beaming at her.
"Oh thank fuck! You're okay!"
(o0o0o0o0)
The blonde slid into the seat next to him, grayish skinned and frowning, followed by a more professional looking brunette, typing furiously on her phone.
Sebastian tried to contain his joy, but holy shit Mary was alive and he hadn't killed someone else and he'd saved her from Moriarty.
"Ah," he ran a hand through his hair, "Sorry. I'm Sebastian. Sebastian Moran, double agent," he held out his hand, praying she would take it.
Instead, she stared at it, "You buried me," she observed. Sebastian felt a pang of guilt.
He licked his lips, "Moriarty would have buried us both if I didn't. And no one would have saved us. He's told me to go and kill every man that was there that night."
She winced, realization dawning in her eyes, "And you're going to do it?"
There was a long silence, "I work for him," Sebastian looked away.
Another pause, but surprisingly, her reply was gentle and quiet, "I hope you can get out soon."
Sebastian knew he was supposed to say he hoped so, too, but he couldn't make himself. What was he without sniping? A high school dropout, with a DD from the United States Army. He was nothing. There was no other career available to him that would get him through life. Most likely, he'd be working for Jim for the rest of his life…which may or may not be shortened by that fact. He was trapped.
Suddenly quite saddened by this, Sebastian settled for a nod.
The rest of the car ride passed in heavy silence, broken only by the constant tapping of who the sniper assumed was Mycroft's assistant on her smartphone. Holmes himself said nothing while in the front seat, and appeared to be deep in thought, looking scornfully out of his tinted window. Mary…if that was even her real name, was leaning against hers, leaving quite a bit of distance between herself and Sebastian, who decided to copy the other two passengers' posture. The glass felt cold against his forehead.
He'd need to be moving soon, if Moriarty let him. It wasn't safe to stay in a single flat for too long. Not to mention, he didn't think he could sleep very easily knowing that Jim was so close.
Stability had never been something Sebastian thought on very much in his day to day life, but now that he finally had a minute to think…it was starting to dawn on him just how out of control his life had gotten.
God, would his family even recognize him if they saw him now? If someone described the life he led today, would they ever in a million years guess that it was the life he was living? His mom had never been able to picture him in the Army…how the hell was she supposed to comprehend what he was doing now?
He moved flats bi weekly, if not more often. He was working for the world's most dangerous criminal mastermind—a psychotic, sadistic, perverted monster. He shot people for money. Jesus fuck, who did that? It had never really seemed real to him…all it was was pulling a trigger and getting money. Now that an actual victim was sitting right next to him, it was real. It was all real and suddenly, Sebastian wanted a list of all the people he'd hit.
After a little ways, they pulled to a stop and Holmes got out of the car. He actually opened Mary's door for her, and she climbed out after the brunette assistant. Sebastian started to slide across the seat, but the other girl climbed back inside, blocking his way.
The sniper frowned up at Mycroft, "What gives?"
"This is none of your concern, Mr. Moran," Holmes, infuriatingly, rolled his eyes, "You've done your part. Anthea should keep you company. We won't be long."
"What the hell was the point in bringing me if-?"
Sebastian was cut off when the door slammed in his face. Anthea continued typing, and the sniper glared at her.
"What could you be typing that's so important?"
She smirked without looking up from her screen, "What could be so important to you about seeing that girl inside?"
That made Sebastian pause. What was so important? He mostly just wanted to make sure she was okay. That Holmes wasn't half assing this or sending her to be tied up and beaten by government officials.
"I…" the sniper shook his head, trying and failing to sort out his emotions, "I feel guilty."
Anthea's eyes darted from her phone screen straight to his in half a second. She gave him a long, hard look, before finally sighing.
"Only because Mycroft won't fire me," with a click, she unlocked the doors. Sebastian practically leapt out of the car.
"Thank you," he leaned into view off the curb, "Thank you so much!"
She smirked, and turned back to her phone.
(o0o0o0o0)
221B, the door read. Sebastian stepped inside quietly, brushing snow out of his hair and listening for voices. It was already dark outside, so there was a chance people were sleeping.
"Hello, John," Mycroft's voice was audible from somewhere above the sniper. He decided to take the stairs in front of him, considering that his best bet.
Sebastian was very careful to tread lightly, but around the middle of his ascent, an inevitable creak seemed to sound throughout the entire building.
"Oh, for Heaven's sake," Mycroft didn't look pleased when he appeared above Sebastian, though he certainly didn't look surprised, either.
"I just…wanted to…" Sebastian struggled, and Holmes shook his head, rolling his eyes. The sniper wondered if Mycroft would be suffering vision trouble eventually, with the frequency he did it at.
"Just come up. We don't have all day."
When Sebastian reached the top of the stairs, a vaguely familiar, stout blond was standing in front of a closed door with Mary, talking quietly. His eyes locked with the sniper's.
"Who's he?" he asked Mycroft. Sebastian started to open his mouth, but Mary spoke before anyone else could.
"He rescued me. He's working for-"
Mycroft coughed loudly, silencing her. He motioned to the closed door.
"We don't," he muttered, "Want anyone to overhear." The blond man raised his eyebrows.
"Sherlock's in his mind palace. But how do we know we can trust-?" he narrowed his eyes at Sebastian, scrutinizing him.
Mycroft sighed, "Watson, if we go into this, we run more of a risk of discovery. The fact of the matter is, he is trustworthy. More so than my brother, at the moment, unfortunately, who not only has a habit of eavesdropping, but is also romantically Bonded to a criminal mastermind."
"Bonded to a criminal-?" something pieced itself together for Sebastian, who shook his head, "Wait, so is that Moriarty's boyfriend in there? How is this safe for her?"
"It is neither safe nor ideal," Mycroft drawled. Watson had looked like he was about to say something, but quickly shut his mouth. "However, let's just say that I have a few too many people like you," he looked pointedly at Sebastian, "And my coworkers don't have the same patience for results that I do. They weren't very willing to provide safety for you, no matter how much you could offer us," he was now looking at Mary, who nodded silently.
"I understand," she said hoarsely. Sebastian noticed that Watson seemed to be struggling with whether or not he should grab her hand. His fingers twitched.
"John," Mycroft said quietly, turning to the blond, "Mrs. Hudson gave her the open flat in the basement. The one no one's been buying. I trust you will keep her safe. And secret from Sherlock. If Moriarty were ever to find out, she would no doubt be dead faster than I could offer any help. Quite possibly," he turned to Sebastian, eyes glinting dangerously, "at your hands."
"I'll take care of her," John said quietly, crossing his arms and nodding curtly, almost, Sebastian noticed, like a soldier, "I promise."
Sebastian noticed that Watson had an almost perfect soldier's posture. Suddenly, he had an urge to talk to John. He wanted to help with Mary. He didn't want to leave and go back to only talking to Moriarty. He didn't want to be alone again. Even Moriarty had a boyfriend. Sebastian had no one.
Mycroft nodded, all business, "Then that's that. Some clothes, fake documents, and other necessities will be sent to you in a few days' time, but other than that, what we can give you is quite limited."
"Thank you," she said sincerely, then, turning to Sebastian, she repeated, "Thank you." The sniper swallowed a lump in his throat.
"Yeah…yeah, no problem," he nodded. Behind him, Mycroft already was descending the stairs. Sebastian followed him, and he heard John and Mary copying, probably on their way to her new flat.
Holmes opened the front door, letting a wave of icy cold air rush over Sebastian. The sniper found himself frozen in place, staring out at the street.
He turned around in time to see Mary heading down a separate hallway, followed by John. Sebastian hurried to catch up to him, and the blond jumped when the sniper grabbed him by the arm.
"Hey!" Sebastian avoided John's eyes at first, convinced they held nothing but disdain, "Sorry. Just, uh…"
There was a brief pause. John didn't relax, but Sebastian forced himself to meet the man's gaze, regardless.
"Take care of her," the sniper's voice cracked, "Okay?"
Slowly, the tension drained from John's arm, though his eyes remained cautious. Sebastian let him go, and accepted a hesitant but friendly clap on the back.
"No problem, mate."
Nodding, Sebastian headed out the door, huddled against the cold. Snow and wind buffeted his hair and made him shiver, wishing he had a pair of gloves.
The sniper started to walk towards the street, only to find that Mycroft was already gone.
A/N: Miss me? Jesus, I've missed this. And I've missed you guys. I am NEVER going to do that again. Finals were pushed back (thanks to lots of snow and crazy cold), so I ended up going FAR too long without writing. Seriously. I started to feel pretty terrible. BUT, on the bright side, I worked out a ton of plot holes that were previously unfilled, and I have a very good idea of where the story is going now. In addition, I have REMADE the playlist for this fic on 8tracks, so it, well…doesn't suck. So feel free to check that out. Also, yes, I know this was a lot of Seb, but you will be seeing more of Jim and Sherlock in the next chapter and forward. Oh boy, if you knew the scenes I had planned, you guys would lose it. Plus, there's a little surprise related to Seb that I'm going to introduce (possibly next chapter?) that I think you'll like a lot! And just…AGH, I'm so excited to write again! Reviews make me smile like an idiot. I love you guys, and will hopefully be updating more often. Thanks for being so patient.