Chuckling to himself he strode down the hallway, wondering if Sherlock would have any trouble negotiating with John to release the railing.
He twisted the doorknob and pushed against the door, only to crash into the wood. There was something heavy blocking the door.
His voice automatically dropped to its lowest hush, as he whispered "Sebastian?"
The same panicked tone whispered back from behind the door "Jim?"
"What are you doing? I thought you were a kid?"
"What do ya mean what'm I doin'?" Sebastian snapped, words slurred with anger. "What do ya mean kid? Where're my clothes…"
Sebastian paused; jaw slacked, as realization struck him suddenly, with all the subtlety of lightning.
He weakly muttered "Genil?"
"I'm afraid so."
"Ah…" Sebastian shuddered, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings cloaked in darkness. "Where am I?" He asked apprehensively, frightened of the answer.
"Sherlock's room." Jim chirped.
"Oh, God."
"Come on, it's time to leave." Jim said, "We've got preparations to finish and…"
Sebastian interrupted Jim's developing monologue sheepishly. "Uh… listen."
"What?" Jim snapped.
"Could you…go into John's room and…maybe find a pair of pants?"
There was an uncomfortable pause in which Jim's face turned a degree paler.
"What're you wearing now?" he asked.
"Uh… my top." Sebastian said, face glowing with shame.
"Why?"
"I don't know!"
"Can't you find some of Sherlock's pants?" Jim asked, only half interested in his snipers apparent nudity. He actually was considering trying to convince Sebastian he didn't need clothes, just so he could get out of the flat. The longer he stayed at Baker Street, the more likely it was that Sherlock was going to try and trap him. He loathed the thought of Sherlock's pet Detective Inspector ruining the tight bonds the four of them shared by butting in and trying to make a hero of himself.
Too bad Sebastian had his shame; otherwise they'd be the best of friends.
"I tried his pants, he's too thin! They don't fit."
"John is like, half your size!"
"But just my width…"
Jim slicked back his hair anxiously, as an extension of his frayed nerves and groaned. "Fine!"
"Thank you!" Sebastian exclaimed angrily, not realizing that Jim was already storming off to where he knew John's room to be. Sebastian sank to the cold floor and tried as best he could to cover himself by pulling his tank top down and trying to ignore the shame that seemed to be bleeding from the pit of his stomach into his limbs.
He stumbled over to a lamp and flipped the switch on, throwing a harsh yellow light on most surfaces. The rest of the room was pervaded by long, creeping shadows that stretched their hands into the crevices of the ceilings.
The room was a mess; the bed looked as though it had been stripped in a hurry and the sheets were strewn across the floor like sagging ghosts. The other lamp that stood on a night table just opposite the one Sebastian stood at had been knocked to the floor, and the table stood at an odd angle. There were crumbs and food stuffs littered around the room at random, but only one visible box.
"I would have thought Holmes would've kept a tighter ship than this…" Sebastian thought picking through the destruction with his toes. He kicked the box over until the brand was facing him and he started with a sudden, inexplicable awe at the label.
A chord of his memory twinged and searched desperately for an action to connect to. As the gears of his mind clanged together he brushed his face absentmindedly, collecting tiny crumbs in the palm of his hand. Instead of brushing the crumbs off, as he might've if he hadn't been thinking, he sniffed the contents of his hand, and tentatively licked the particles.
For the first time in his long career, Sebastian made a discovery before Jim.
Well, discovery would be a hard word for it. Sebastian immediately started to doubt his insane notion the moment it was born in what many over the years have called 'that smooth round thing sleeping inside your skull.' He had a long history of being amazingly incorrect on several points regarding anything to do with cause and effect.
Still, it was a hypothesis. And Jim was always telling him to test those thingies with experiments.
Knock, knock!" Jim said at the door. Sebastian eased himself off the wood enough for the master criminal to stick his arm through with the pants. When Sebastian snatched them from his hand, Jim tried to pile drive the door and force his way in, but Sebastian easily overpowered him, shutting the door with a snap.
Jim sulked, but waited patiently slouched against the door. Sometimes he felt like an itty bitty kitty trying to aggravate a large dog when he was with Sebastian. It bothered him how Sebastian, without going to the gym or working out at all, could easily overpower him. The man was a couch potato for crying out loud!
"How much longer?" Jim whined.
"Hang on." Sebastian commanded. John's pants were too small for him, but they were a better fit than Sherlock's. Sebastian struggled with the zipper, but ultimately squeezed into the confining jeans. Technically, they fit.
Well, not exactly fit. The legs of the pants, which Sebastian assumed were meant to touch one's ankles, squeezed his calves tightly. He could barely move as it was, and he imagined that soon he would spill out of the jeans or split them.
"Close enough." He said reaching for the door handle.
From the depths of the flat, an unearthly scream raised his heckles and sent the hairs on the back of his neck all a-quiver. Sebastian flung open the door and was greeted with the sight of Jim's back, racing down the hall in evident excitement. Like any hound, or shark, the smell of blood sent Jim into a frenzy of excitement. Sebastian leapt like a gazelle down the hall; because John's pants would not let him run outright when Jim froze in his place at the door to the stairs by the unmistakable pop of a gun which broke the silent night.
Sebastian felt his eyes widen with shock, but delayed the actual emotion until he could deal with it later. At the moment, the only thing he could think of doing was getting to the gun. His own gun, having been in his pants, had apparently been left behind and he didn't feel complete without it.