A/N: I own only on the OCs, not the fabulousness created by ACD, Moffit, Gatiss, et al. Rest assured if I did, Moriarty would be alive and living with me 😉. As always, reviews keep my mind monkeys happy and out of trouble (more or less).

Chapter 4

The rest of the night passed by in a blur of alcohol and good food. Erin dropped by the table at 1:50 am and informed the couple that last call was coming up and to check if they needed anything else.

"No, Erin. We'll just take the bill. I think I need to get this big guy on home. He's got a big day tomorrow. Actually, his big day starts in a few hours, so I probably should get him home. Thanks for everything." Heather pulled out her phone and ordered up an Uber for their location. Sebastian was very glassy eyed and had the funniest half grin on his face. "How ya doing, Bash? Feeling pretty good, right now?"

"Heather, you are the prettiest girl I know. We … we … should get married. Will you (hiccup) marry me? I want to have your babies. Our babies would be so pretty … and strong … and I don't care that you …" Sebastian slurred. "You know I would kill for you right? I … WOULD … KILL … FOR … YOU BABY GIRL! You're my boo. Boo boo boo boo boo, boooooooooo!"

"Oh, Bash, you are such a romantic when you are drunk. Let me just pay the bill and we can go home. You need some sleep" laughed Heather. Erin brought the bill over. Heather glanced at it, wrote in a very generous tip, and signed it. "Here you go, Erin. Again, thanks for everything. As usual, you guys are the best. Have a wonderful night." Heather's phone chirped to let her know that the car was ready outside.

"Dr. Weire, do you need help getting your friend outside? He looks a little … um … like he had a little bit of too good of a time tonight."

"No, we'll be okay, but thanks. I'll see you again soon. Ya'll are still having Trivia night on Sunday, right?"

"Always. I take it you'll be there. Should I save your usual seat at the bar?"

"Yeah, please. That would be great. See ya then. Sadly, it'll just be me. My friend will be back in jolly old England by then. C'mon Bash, time to stand up and get home. Jim-Jam will be expecting you in a few hours and it would be just horrible to disappoint Mr. Ego. God, you are heavy! I'm not carrying you. You gotta put so effort into walking. The car is outside."

"Jim-Jam! I like that. Jim-Jam, Jim-Jam, Jimmy the Jam Man! Jim, can you fix it to get me out of my jam! Jim likes Jam! Jammy Jimmy! He's a silly little jammy man in jammy pants! Jimmy Jam Jam!" sang Sebastian.

Heather helped Sebastian down the steps of the restaurant entrance and into the car at the curb. She slurred out her address to the driver and apologized for Sebastian's overly happy barrage of employer related poetry.

Fifteen minutes later, the car arrived at Heather's house. Heather thanked the driver and apologized again for Sebastian's inappropriate joyfulness. She half carried her friend into the house and plopped him onto the couch. "Sit right there. I'll be right back." Heather walked into the kitchen, opened a drawer, and grabbed her supplies. "Do I want to kind and use a 20 or evil and use a 14? Choices, choices, choices." She thought to herself. "Oh, what the hell, I'll be kind and go with the 20. After all, this is my Bashie-cake and his boss sounds like a real asshat, so he'll suffer enough in the next few days." Heather walked back into the living room to find Sebastian snoring softly on the sofa. Heather bent down and gently shook his shoulder. "Bash, honey, wake up. I have a gift for you. It's going to make the morning a lot easier to deal with, but I need you to be awake while I set it up for you."

Sebastian groaned and mumbled something unintelligible.

"Sebastian, honey, open your eyes for me. This will only take a minute, but I need you to be awake enough to hold still while I do this, ok? I promise you will really appreciate this in a few hours."

"Whatever you're going to do, you can do with my eyes closed. I'm awake. Just get it done enough. I just want to get some sleep."

"Okay, you're going to feel a little pinch, but I need you to hold really still okay. Are you going to hold still for me?" Sebastian opened one eye wide enough to shoot Heather a death glare. "Okey-doke! Here it goes." Heather gently extended his left arm and wrapped the tourniquet around his upper arm just above the elbow. She quickly found the perfect spot and opened the iv kit on the floor. "Okay, hold really still for me. You're going to feel a little pinch, but you HAVE to hold perfectly still." Heather cleaned the site and slide the catheter into the vein with ease. She retracted the needle and taped the dressing in place and hooked up the bag of fluid to infuse with gravity. "Okay, all done."

"What did you just do?" What are giving me?" asked Sebastian suddenly fully awake.

"It's called a banana bag. It has saline, and vitamins and minerals. It's what we give drunks in the ER to help sober them up. One great side effect is that any hangover you might have will be very greatly reduced after this. You will still have a minor hangover, but it won't be nearly as bad, I promise. Now let's get you to bed. You need to go pick up Jim in a few hours, remember? Let's first get you into the bathroom. I don't want you peeing the bed and it might be a good idea to at least try to brush your teeth." Heather helped Sebastian off the couch and down the hall to the bathroom. "Are you capable of using the toilet by yourself or do I need to help you with that? I would suggest you sit down to pee, since you can barely stand independently and I don't want to have to clean urine off every surface in here tonight. I'll go get your jammies while you do that." Heather stepped out of the bathroom, but left the door open in case Sebastian needed her in the 30 seconds she would be gone. She walked into his room and grabbed the pants and tank top he had sitting on his pillow. She walked back into the bathroom to find him sitting on the toilet, looking slightly confused. "What are you doing? You look like a dog in physics class. You do know how to pee sitting down right?"

"No, it's not that. I already finished going, but I can't seem to get my balance to stand up quite right. How are you doing so well right now? You drank more than I did."

"Bash, why do you always forget what kind of drunk I am? You've known me for how long and seen me drunk how many times? I'm a super flirty, even downright slutty drunk, but it passes quickly, especially since my stomach surgery. When your stomach only holds 1/3 of a cup of anything at one time, it can't hold onto alcohol very long, so the effects pass quickly. I consider the only real upside to getting shot in the abdomen. I can't get fat or stay drunk for very long. It doesn't really make up for all the downsides, but does come in handy in certain very specific situations. Anyway, now let's get you up off that toilet before you develop hemorrhoids. Do you want to try brushing your teeth or at least rinsing with some mouthwash? I say this with love, but your breath is so rank right now it could easily count as a violation of the Geneva Convention. Let's get you in your pjs first though. Slip your shirt off. Here's the shirt I found on your pillow. I assume that you had planned to wear it to bed along with these pants." Sebastian and Heather exchanged shirts and then she handed him the pair of thin cotton pants. He wriggled off his jeans and cast them aside where Heather had thrown his shirt. He bent over to start to slip his left foot into the leg hole, but stopped. "I'm going to throw up!" Heather silently reached down and handed him the small trash can. She took over sliding his legs into the pants while he resampled the evening's dining from the wrong direction.

When he was done, Sebastian slowly handed the can back to his friend. "Are you ready to get up now or do you want another minute." Sebastian silently gestured up with his hand. "Okay, we're going to do this together. Just work with me." Heather positioned her feet between Sebastian's and wrapped her arms around his upper back. Counting to three and rocking him gently as she had seen in the yearly PT in service the hospital forced everyone to take, she lifted him up and off the toilet. "Reach down and pull up your pants. Sebastian grabbed his pants and brought them up to his waist. "Here's a glass of water. Take a sip and rinse out your mouth. Don't swallow it. Just spit it out in the sink." Sebastian followed her directions. "Ok, now, brush teeth or just Listerine it?"

"Listerine. I'm afraid if I try to brush my teeth, I might trigger my gag reflex. I'll brush them in the morning before I go pick up Jim."

"Fair enough. Here you go." Heather handed him a small cup of mouthwash and lightly rubbed his back. After he swished and spit, she ran some water to rinse out the sink and walked Sebastian into his room. He pulled the sheets back and he crawled in. "Sweet dreams, honey. Do you have an alarm set for the morning or do you need to do that now? I can't imagine His Majesty tolerating tardiness, even for a hangover."

"No, I'll do that now. Thanks for reminding me. Listen, Heather, while Jim is here, please be nice to him. No nicknames. Just Jim or Mr. Moriarty. Not even James or Jimmy."

"Bash, of course I will be nice to him. He will a guest in my home and I was raised with manners. But, remember, "nice" and "manners" are both two-way streets. I will not be disrespected or abused in my own home. I am NOT my mom. As long as he behaves, I will behave. Besides, it's only 3 days. I can tolerate almost anything for 3 days."

"Thank you Kitten."

"Of course, Bash. Anything for Pumpkin Bear." Heather turned off the light and closed the door. Walking back to bedroom, she considered not going to bed and instead staying up and making plans for her new guest. When Bash visited, she never had to make plans. Everything just fell into place, easy peasy, but this Jim character did have her a bit nervous. What about meals? Did he have allergies? Would he have a problem with the cats? Was he as pompous as he seemed on the phone? Would he want to go sightseeing? Was he going to have her killed? Would he make Bash do it? Would Bash actually do it? What did Bash mean earlier when he said that their babies would pretty and strong? Bash didn't love her, right? No, can't be. I mean, yeah, we screwed around some back in Afghanistan, but so did everyone. No, they were definitely just friends. He was like her big brother. Her really hot, muscular, smart, amazing big brother, but definitely a brother. He was just drunk. That had to be it? Right? Yeah, totally, totally. Anyway, back to this Jim guy. She had planned on making lasagna for dinner that night and hoped that would be okay. She would ask Bash in the morning if Jim had any food allergies or sensitivities. Hell, forget asking Bash. She would ask Jim. She could talk to him herself. She didn't need anyone to act as a go-between. Heather stripped off her clothes and climbed into bed. Both cats jumped into bed and tag-teamed her with kitty kisses and meows. "Guys, in a few hours, Mommy getting an extra special guest. Uncle Sebastian's boss will be here for a few days and you have to be nice to him. That means no angry hairballs from you Miss Calypso and no biting from you Mr. Downey. Even Mommy has to be nice, even if it kills her. Deal, guys?" In response, both cats turned so that Heather got a prime view of their rear ends. Eventually, Heather's exhaustion overpowered her anxiety and she drifted off to sleep.

Heather was sitting in the most comfortable chair she had ever been in. Tom Hiddleston was sitting at her feet, giving her the most amazing foot massage while Robert Downey Jr was feeding her chocolate covered strawberries and licking the stray bits of chocolate off her lips in between bites. Andrew Scott was purring the most beautiful poetry into her left ear whilst Benedict Cumberbatch was depositing passionate kisses up and down her body. She was in absolute heaven. Suddenly, Heather became aware of a disturbance. "Kitten, Kitten, wake up!" Slowly the boys started to fade away. Heather tried to reach out to make at least one of them stay, but they kept fading into vapor before her eyes. She became aware of someone shaking her shoulder. Heather cracked one eye open and instead of seeing the Sex Quadruplets, Bash stood there in front of her. "Good, you're awake. I need your help," Sebastian whined. "I don't feel sober enough to go pick up Jim. Can you drive me there? I will buy dinner tonight."

"Sebastian Augustus Moran, do you have any idea what you just removed me from? I was having the absolute best dream ever. I was getting 4-teamed by the four hottest men known to humankind. There was chocolate, and a foot rub, and kisses, and poetry and sexy talk and everything. I'm going to kill you!"

"I'm sorry, but Jim's flight gets in in an hour and I'm not nearly sober enough to pick him up. By the way, this banana bag worked great. I have a slight headache, but I took some Paracetamol so that should pass soon. This is an emergency. Please drive me to the airport. Please!"

"Oh my God in heaven above! Fine, let me get ready. Go pour me a Coke and bring it into the bathroom. I need some help waking the hell up. Lots of ice in a cup with a straw and a lid." Heather stalked into the bathroom and turned on the shower. After using the toilet, she brushed her teeth and stepped into the shower. A quick shower later, she toweled off and took a long suck off the soda Sebastian had set on the counter for her. After pulling her hair into a quick French braid, she finished her makeup in 10 minutes and quickly got dressed in a short silk forest green slip dress and her favorite thigh high black boots. "Might as well make a good first impression," thought Heather. The green of the dress set off her fiery red hair beautifully and the boots always made her short legs look impressively long and lean. Sebastian knocked on her door. "Come in."

"Are you ready? I don't want to be late."

"Yeah, let me just grab my phone and purse and we can get going. You're not nervous, are you? Remember, he's just your boss. Not the Lord," chided Heather.

Sebastian thought to himself, "Yeah, trying telling him that."

Heather and Sebastian walked outside and climbed into Heather's car, Heather in the driver's seat and Bash in the passenger seat. Heather sat there for a moment, patiently waiting.

"Um … Kitten, why are we not moving?"

"Because only one of us is properly prepared for the car to begin moving. One of us has forgotten a very important and mandatory safety feature and we are going to wait until both of us are ready."

Sebastian shot her a murderous look and fastened his seat belt. "There! Happy now?"

"Deliriously! Thank you!"

Surprisingly, traffic to the airport was rather light, so they arrived in record time. Heather had the car valet parked and they walked into the arrival terminal for British Airways. Sebastian checked the arrival board and saw that Jim's flight was running 10 minutes early. This meant that they would only have to wait 15 minutes before his arrival. Sebastian informed Heather of this. "Great, we have time for you to buy me breakfast. I want 2 petite vanilla scones from Starbucks. I would hurry though. The lines there can be crazy this time of day. There's one just over there."

Sebastian hurried over to the store, placed their order, and brought it back to Heather just as Jim's flight started to unload. Jim, of course, was the first one off. He looked around, but didn't immediately see Sebastian. His features began to darken. "Where is that moron?" Jim brooded to himself. Sebastian rushed over to Jim and started to greet him. "Boss, good mor- "simpered Sebastian. "Save it Moran. Who is this," indicating behind Sebastian. "Jim, I'm Heather. It's very nice to meet you. Welcome to Baltimore. How was your flight? Pleasant enough I hope," inquired Heather.

"So, this is the famous Dr. Weire," sneered Jim.

"Indeed. And you are the famous Jim Moriarty. Interesting. You're not quite what I had pictured."

"Oh? What did you picture exactly, Heather?

"Well, for one, I expected you to be taller and older. You're just a cute little leprechaun, aren't ya? Listen, does your dad know that you borrowed his clothes and left the house? I don't have any sippy cups at my house, but we could stop and pick some up or have you graduated to big boy cups now?"

"Heather, stop right now," hissed Sebastian. "Sir, I'm so sorry. She's still really drunk. She has no idea what she's saying. Please forgive her."

"Bash, I'm a hell of lot more sober than you. You asked me to drive today because you claimed that you were still too drunk. I'm perfectly sober. Jim was being rude and like I told you, I would only be nice if he was being nice to me. Rudeness begets rudeness. Now if he wants to act like he has some manners, I would be glad to do the same. What do you say, Jim? Should we start over with the introductions?"

"Fine. Hello, Heather. I'm Jim Moriarty. It is nice to meet you," Jim forced through clenched teeth.

"Well, hello, Jim. Welcome to America. I'm glad you could join us for a few days. Sebastian speaks very highly of you and I look forward to entertaining you in my home. What do you say we go get your luggage?"

Heather turned and started to walk over to the signs pointing to luggage pickup. She could hear the two men arguing in Gaelic behind her. She stopped after a few steps and turned to Jim, "Labhair me go gairid." She turned back around and kept walking. Once they arrived at baggage claim, Sebastian walked over to the belt while Jim and Heather stayed back.

"Jim, I am truly sorry for last night. I really did let my temper get the best of me. I just got so frustrated because Bash works so much and gives so much to you and his work and in all honesty, I sometimes get jealous that you get to spend so much time with him and sometimes it seems like you don't really appreciate how amazing he really is. You wouldn't believe how much I look forward to the time I get to spend with him. Bash was the first guy I let get close to me after my husband died and he truly is my best friend. Most guys get scared off or intimidated by how successful I am and it gets lonely. But Bash … Bash thinks it's amazing and awesome that I'm successful and tough. He makes me feel good about myself for real. With him, I can be myself. I don't have to be the puffed up tough fierce female persona that I have to show the rest of the world, but the real me. The me that is fierce and powerful, but at the same time is also racked with anxiety at times. And I don't know why you are here, but I'm asking you to please just don't steal him from me while you're here. You get him for so much time. I just want my couple days. Our fighting is really stressing him out, so can we just try to get along for a few days. I want him to be happy. And seriously, please call me Heather. Dr. Weire is so stiff and professional. Bash tells me you prefer Jim, so with your permission I'll just call you that. Ok?"

Jim stared at Heather for a few minutes. She could feel his eyes penetrating her deepest recesses. She looked away and felt like crying. How cold was this man? Did he even have a heart? She started to walk over to Sebastian, when she felt a hand on her upper arm.

"You know Heather, you are wrong. I do appreciate Sebastian and his work. I know I work him too hard, but I need him. He is the only person I trust with my business. The only person I know without a doubt would take a bullet for me and do his damnedest to get a few off in my defense. I don't know why I'm here either. Maybe it's because I was just so shocked that someone would actually have the balls to talk to me the way you did. I was shocked. Maybe I wanted to meet the person that would sign her own death warrant so freely. He talks about you sometimes. Maybe I was curious to see what was so special about you. Why you are so important to him? What is your history with him?"

"It's long and complicated. It would probably bore you to be honest. Plus, I just don't want to get into it right now. No offense, but I just can't right now. I'm going to see if he wants any help with the luggage. How many pieces do you have?"

"Two, but he can manage them himself."

"I'm sure he can, but I need to …"

Jim watched Heather walk away. An hour ago, he was positive that he knew exactly how he felt about Heather, but now he was unsure. Jim never felt unsure. He hated that feeling. Being unsure was for ordinary people. He was most decidedly not ordinary. He was extraordinary. He was Jim "Mr. Sex, Honey you should see me in a crown" Moriarty. He had plans. And those plans had back up plans. And those back up plans had contingency plans. And those contingency plans had plans of their own. He was prepared for everything. Everything, but this it would seem. Jim watched Heather reach up and put her hand on the small of Sebastian's back. She leaned into him and he wrapped his right arm around her waist into a tight side hug and kissed the top of her head. Jim felt a tug of jealousy towards the sight

Jim's luggage came around a moment later and Sebastian and Heather each grabbed a piece. They carried them over to Jim and Heather walked them outside to the valet parking area. After handing her ticket to the attendant, Heather asked Jim if he wanted to stop anywhere for breakfast. Jim replied that he had eaten a meal on the plane, but was willing to stop if either of them were hungry. "No, I made Sebastian get Starbucks for me and it looks like he got a little something for himself, so I think we are okay."

The valet pulled up in Heather's car. She exchanged the keys for a generous tip and climbed in to pop the trunk. Sebastian secured the bags and climbed in the back. Jim sat down in the passenger seat. Sebastian and Heather put their seat belts on. Heather looked over at Jim and smiled. Jim returned the gaze. Sebastian piped up from the back and said, "Boss, you need to put your seat belt on."

"I never wear my seat belt, Sebby. You know that."

"She won't move the car until you do."

"Heather, are we going to stay here all day," asked Jim.

"Nope, just until you put your seat belt on. Then we can go. So, ball's in your court."

Jim just stared and smiled at Heather. Heather stared and smiled back. They sat locked in a silent power struggle for 20 minutes, with Sebastian periodically calling from the back for Heather to move and Jim to just put the damn seat belt on already. Finally, airport security came over and tapped on the window. Heather rolled it down.

"Ma'am, is there a reason you haven't moved your vehicle yet?"

"Oh yes, Officer, there is. My friend here hasn't put his seat belt on yet and I know that it's not only state law, but also a very wise safety decision to wear a seat belt while in a moving vehicle. I'm just waiting patiently for him to comply."

"Sir, please put your seat belt on or I will be forced to write you a ticket."

Jim reached up slowly and grabbed his seatbelt without allowing his eyes to leave Heather's face. He fastened it and folded his hands in his lap.

Heather pulled the car forward and before the car could move more than 10 feet, Jim reached down and undid his seat belt. Heather slammed on the brakes and put the car in park. "Jesus, Jim, she's serious, JUST PUT THE DAMN BELT ON OR WE WILL BE HERE FOREVER," roared Sebastian.

"He's right. It is my strictest rule. I have the next 5 days off work so, I can and will sit here for the next 5 days until it is time for you guys to fly back."

Jim mumbled something under his breath and refastened the belt.

Heather put the car back into drive and they exited the airport area. "So, Jim, Bash tells me you like Bach. If you would like, we can listen to that on the way home or I do have a very nice Irish folk music station on Pandora. It's up to you."

"I don't care," pouted Jim

"Okay, then I pick the Garth Brooks Channel on satellite radio. I love Garth Brooks. I grew up listening to him. I have so many memories surrounding his music," chirped Heather.

"I thought you said it was Bach or Irish Folk music?"

"Yeah, I did, but you said that you didn't care, so that means that I get to pick and I pick Garth Brooks.

"Fine, then I want Bach."

"Oh, too late. I already made the decision for the car. Maybe you'll try harder next time it's your turn and not be a Grumpy Gus."