The Day of the Fall, St. Bart's

As Jim Moriarty watched Sherlock Holmes step off the roof of St. Bart's Hospital, he was nearly overwhelmed with a rush of glee. He ran to the side of the roof, peeping over, reveling in the bloody body sprawled below. His eyes went wide in delight. The screams of the shocked pedestrians were so sweet. He giggled a while and spun around to run back towards the figure of Mycroft Holmes. He grabbed him and kissed him aggressively. Sebastian Moran dropped the glamour and reverted to his normal self. This made Jim angry and he slapped Sebastian. "Damn it, did I tell you to switch back?" Jim snarled. He smiled and stroked Sebastian's cheek. "I want to enjoy this moment" he whispered.

Sebastian sighed; another of Jim's bizarre whims. He focused and produced the glamour that made him look exactly like the elder brother of Sherlock Holmes. Jim leered in delight and resumed his assault. He licked and nibbled and stroked till he was nearly glowing in delight. "Please Bass, please, please, pretty please" he chanted.

Sebastian lowered his head and nodded. He knew what Jim wanted and he always gave in. Jim actually clapped his hands with excitement as he began to rip off Sebastian's clothes. He returned to his attack on Sebastian's body, possessing it entirely. When he was finally sated, he leaned back and rested his head across Sebastian's bruised chest. Jim listened to his partner's ragged breaths and smiled in contentment. He gently redressed himself and then his beloved Tiger.

Moran watched him warily. He had been with Jim a long time and was familiar with the aftermath of Jim's highs. In the immediate period following a great success, Jim would often be manic, filled with energy and desire. As the glow dissipated, he could become depressed and moody. Sometimes he lashed out and caused more damage to Sebastian or anyone else in his way. Other times he needed to be stopped from doing harm to himself. Right now, Jim was still happy and becoming affectionate. He curled up next to Sebastian and softly stroked his arm.

"I love you; you do know that, right? Oh, I love you so much. Let's go home now, dearest" Jim murmured, his fingers drawing lazy trails across Sebastian's torso.

Sebastian slowly stood, leaning on Jim for support. Together they descended the stairs and returned to their car. Jim stayed snuggled up to Sebastian as their driver took them home. When they reached their home, Jim helped Sebastian to bed, where he tended to his wounds and kissed him gently. Tired from a long exciting day, they fell asleep together.

Sebastian woke up alone the next morning. He propped himself up on his elbows. Jim was dressed, in one of his sharper black suits. He stood, hands in pockets, looking out the window. Sebastian could tell that he was in a dangerous mood. "Jim?" he whispered.

"I need to know he's dead. I want his body. I need to see it" Jim said. He continued to stare out the window at the gray drizzle.

Sebastian swung his feet out of bed, his whole body hurt. He shuffled over to Jim, standing just behind him. He tried to wrap his arms around Jim, but Jim shoved him away. Sebastian tried another approach. "You saw him fall; you looked over the edge when he jumped. He's dead. No one could survive that" Sebastian reasoned.

Jim whirled around and attacked him, eyes large with rage. He aimed for the already wounded parts of Sebastian's body. He knew exactly where they all were, he had inflicted the trauma after all. "Moron! Don't you ever question me again, you do what I tell you to!" he snarled. Sebastian stood and took the blows, it was better not to fight back. Jim raked his nails across Sebastian's face, raging at him all the while.

"Alright! I'll go and get it!" Sebastian shouted, tired of the abuse.

Jim smiled sweetly. "Oh Bass, I knew you would, you do love me so." He stopped and his face changed, darkness overwhelming his features once more. "Don't fail, find his corpse and bring it here, no excuses."

Sebastian dressed and left, headed toward the hospital. The press was still heavy outside the hospital, reporters delivering the ghoulish details of the demise of Sherlock Holmes. Sebastian made himself a glamour, a nondescript sort of face, the sort of man no one would remember. He studied a hospital employee entering the building. Sebastian added an identification badge to his disguise. He entered the hospital and checked the map of the building. There was only one morgue, he walked there slowly, always careful to never draw attention. He watched other people moving through the halls, copying their movements, always blending in.

When he arrived at the entrance to the morgue, he shifted the glamour, making himself invisible. He waited till someone entered the morgue and slipped behind them. He walked past the coolers, too difficult to enter and easily search. He looked around for another way to find where the body was. A stack of outgoing paperwork was near the door. Once the area was clear, he picked up the paperwork and riffled through it. He found the first thing he was looking for, the death certificate and autopsy of Sherlock Holmes. He studied the paperwork, frowning. There was a carbon copy attached. Shit. The body of Sherlock Holmes had already been sent to the crematory. Sebastian found a copier and copied everything. If nothing else, the documents might distract Jim for a little while.

Sebastian fled the hospital, racing to the crematory. If he was lucky, they wouldn't have burned the bastard yet. It took too long, driving across all of London. The crematory was outside the city, away from the more populated areas. Sebastian leapt out of the car and ran toward the building. He quickly pulled a new glamour over his features. He stopped at the front desk. "I need to know about a body, it was brought here. Can you tell me if it's already been cremated? It's my friend, please," he begged, tears falling.

The woman behind the desk looked up at him and replied, "Certainly. What is the name of the deceased? I will also need to see some identification first. And we are all very sorry for your loss." She smiled a carefully practiced smile, one meant to convey the deepest of sympathies.

Sebastian manufactured an identification card from within his glamour. He held it out to the receptionist. She studied it, and then the face of the man before her. Satisfied, she tapped some keys on her keyboard with her red lacquered nails. She looked up, her sympathy smile back in place. "And the name of the departed?" she asked, concern dripping from her words.

"Sherlock Holmes"

Her eyes grew a little larger; clearly she had been paying attention to the tabloids. She pushed her glasses back up her nose and bent closer to the monitor. She typed some more and scanned the screen. She touched the screen with a fingertip as she isolated the information she wanted. Suddenly, she was struck with doubt. A worried look replaced the smile. "You're not with the press, are you?" she asked.

Sebastian allowed more tears to fall. "No! I'm, I mean, I was his friend, I wrote the blog," he sniffled.

She covered her mouth with her hand, duly impressed. She looked back to the screen. "The body of the deceased arrived yesterday afternoon. Oh, it looks like there was a rush on it for some reason. It was immediately cremated; the cremains will be ready to be picked up tomorrow, of course after the family selects a fitting receptacle." She remembered her last performance review and rifled around on her desk for a brochure. "This is a selection of some of our most distinguished urns, perhaps you could pass it along to the next of kin?"

Sebastian took the glossy pamphlet. "You're certain, the body's already been cremated?" he asked with a hint of desperation.

"Yes sir, last evening, and once again, myself and all the team members here offer our sincere sympathy" she parroted. She rambled on about some other bullshit but Sebastian had stopped listening.

He dropped the pamphlet and left the building. Shit. There was no telling how Jim would react. Hopefully he had found something else to distract himself. It wasn't very fucking likely though. Sherlock Holmes had been Jim's only obsession for months now. No point avoiding it, Jim would be madder if he thought Sebastian had tried to hide anything from him. Sebastian took out his phone and dialed Jim. News like this should not be delivered by text. Jim picked up on the first ring.

"Where is it?" Jim barked.

"Cremated"

Silence. Sebastian counted to thirty before Jim spoke again. "Tell me everything."

"I went to the morgue, was looking for the body. I found all the paperwork first, his death certificate and a receipt for delivery to a crematorium. I'm there now. There was a rush or something on the body, they burnt the fucker last night. I made copies of the death certificate." Sebastian could feel sweat breaking out on his forehead.

Jim was silent for a while longer. He sighed. "Bring it all home. Hurry up."

Sebastian drove home, still unsure what he would find. Jim was lounging at the bar, suit coat missing, tie loosened. He sipped a chilled martini. One was waiting for Sebastian, always a good sign. He reached for the drink. Moran gulped the drink as he held the papers out. Jim took the papers and looked over them without comment. He studied them for a few moments before laying them down on the bar. He turned to his lover and studied his face. He then began to delicately suck on Sebastian's earlobe. Just as things looked to be alright, Jim savagely bit down, tearing off the bottom of his partner's ear. As Sebastian howled in pain and collapsed to the floor, Jim picked up a cocktail napkin and dabbed at the blood on his lips. He took a long sip of his drink, swishing the alcohol in his mouth. He leaned down, sneering at Sebastian.

"You doofus, did you even think of reading any of this? Look at the signature. Open your eyes and read it out loud for me" said Jim, drops of blood dotting his cheek and chin.

Sebastian was still clutching his bloody earlobe. Jim had given him worse, but his ear hurt like hell. He gritted his teeth and looked closer at the death certificate. "It says Molly Hooper."

"Good boy, and do we remember that name? Because we should," Jim sang out in his awful sing-song voice.

For a moment, Sebastian had no idea who the hell Molly Hooper was. Then it hit him, that pathetic girl in the pathology lab at St. Bart's. Jim thought she would be a good way to find out about Sherlock Holmes, back when he was still mostly a mystery. It didn't take long for Jim to realize she was nothing to the detective; the real answer was John Watson. She gushed on and on about the man, even though it was obvious that the great detective considered her at best a useful tool. Jim thought he might have some fun with her, but she was even too boring to provide much distraction. Sebastian looked back up at Jim and nodded.

"Lovely, now, does anyone else here think it a little odd that little Miss Molly would autopsy the man she just loved and dreamed about? Hmm? Something's not right, find her, I need to speak to her. Don't fail again." Jim picked up his glass and drained the last of his drink. He whirled around and threw the glass directly into the mirror behind the bar, shattering both. He dropped a cocktail napkin on Sebastian's lap, then left. Sebastian mopped up the worst of the blood. He then stood and pulled out his phone, searching for the address of Molly Hooper.

It was easy to find her flat, easy to drive there and easy to figure out that no one was at home. Sebastian cased her rooms carefully. It was obvious that someone had been here recently and left in a hurry. Her things were scattered across her bed and floor. Her car was also missing. Sebastian knew she was not at the hospital, he had checked already. She hadn't been there all day. Not one of her co-workers had seen her or spoken to her. Where the hell had she gone? There were no clues as to where she had gone. But, in her haste, two coffee cups had been left behind. Two people had drank coffee before she left, who was the other drinker? Jim and Sebastian had many resources. They were both good at getting others to help them do their dirty work. It was how they had become criminal geniuses after all. Time to call in some assistance.

Sebastian made a quick call. The man was on his way. Harold was the best at what he did. Sebastian stood outside and smoked while he waited for his colleague. Not long before midnight, the cab pulled up. Out stepped an elderly gentleman dressed in rumpled clothes. He looked at his watch and cleared his throat.

"Awful late at night to be bothering me, you know. Might be nice if someone paid the fare" he said with an innocent expression.

Sebastian didn't argue, just handed the cabbie a handful of bills. As the cab drove away, he turned back to the other man. He gestured toward the door and they walked in together. After they entered Molly Hooper's flat, he began to explain the task at hand.

"This flat belongs to Molly Hooper. I need to know when she was here last, who was with her and when they left. And I need to know where they are now. The boss wants to know and sooner is better," said Sebastian.

The man was listening, but only just. He had already begun to gather information. He sniffed the air delicately. He moved through the rooms wafting air towards his nose as he walked. He lay down on the bed, breathing in deeply. He picked up some clothes and sniffed them. He ran his hands over the couch and laid down face first on it. He slid off the couch and crawled to an armchair and deeply smelled the cushions on the chair. He picked up each coffee cup and licked the rims delicately. With all data collected, he sat down to think. After a few minutes he spoke.

"She was here a little less than 24 hours ago. Someone was with her, a man. She longs for this man, her desire permeates the air, but he doesn't have the same feelings. He smells of blood, his own. There's another smell too, chemicals. Both were afraid, lots of panic. Tears were shed, by each of them. She moved around a lot, he sat in the chair and didn't move. They both drank coffee, hers was milky, his was sweet. They left together. No one else has been in here since they left." The old man rubbed his hands as he finished his explanation. He held his palm out, waiting for payment.

"Not yet, I told you, I need to know where they went" explained Sebastian.

The old man sighed. "Leg work is extra. A lot extra. This damn arthritis makes it hard you know. I'm not so young as I used to be" he complained.

"Just do it, Harold, or neither of us will live to see many more days" cautioned Sebastian.

They walked down the stairs. The old man paused, sniffing the air. He walked around the sidewalk and across the street a few times. He picked up the scent and followed it. The journey was agonizingly slow. The old man hobbled along, Sebastian swore he was doing it for show. They crossed London in the nighttime, arriving at the abandoned car of Molly Hooper near dawn. They both examined it carefully. She left her keys on the seat, doors unlocked. The old man climbed in the car, inhaling deeply as he did so. He tasted each seat as well. He exited the car, muttering about his back as he did so.

"She parked here not long after she left her flat, she was scared, really scared. The man was with her, he stinks of despair. He was thinking about suicide, dark thoughts, hopeless. Give me a minute, I'll soon figure out where they went."

He resumed his slow tottering pace. They approached a section of the Embankment. He paced back and forth for a while. He leaned over the barrier on the river side. He looked down at the rocks and mud below. He scowled as it became clear.

"They climbed over." He looked up at Moran with a frown. "Are you really going to make me climb down there?" asked Harold.

Sebastian nodded. "I'll help; Jim would kill us if we didn't." The old man scrambled onto the barrier. Sebastian bit his cheek to keep from laughing. He hoped he was never that old and feeble. Sebastian swung himself over the barrier and down on the rocks. He reached up and caught the old man as he more or less fell off the side. There was considerable huffing and groaning as the old man got himself sorted.

Once he had regained some dignity, Harold resumed his work. It was harder here by the water. Too many smells and air moving to really be sure what had happened. He could tell both Molly and the man with her had been there a while. He could smell her fear and the man's angst. He paced back and forth, trying to understand what had happened. He walked down to the water's edge and back. He caught a tang of blood, the woman's. She had cut herself, a few drops lingered on the rocks. But what was that? There was another smell, an unusual one. At first, he wasn't sure that it was human. It was a strange smell, sort of dead and decayed. He thought it might have been a corpse, but there weren't any revenants around anymore. Whatever had joined the pair, it left with them. The problem was where they went. Their smell was all over in between the wall and the river. They couldn't have walked into the wall. They must have left by the river. If they did, the old man's job was done. He was no good over water. Harold turned back to Sebastian and explained what he found.

"Fuck." Sebastian ran his hands through his hair and angrily kicked some rocks. "Are you sure?" he asked.

"Don't insult me boy. I've been doing this longer than you've had hair on your balls" the old man shot back.

"Shit." Sebastian knew he had a lot more work in front of him. His head was starting to ache. The old man was staring at him, waiting for his payment. Sebastian dug out some crumpled bills from his pocket and shoved them into the other man's hand. Sebastian turned to walk back to the wall and get the hell out of there.

"Hey, I need some help before you go rushing off!" complained the old man.

Sebastian sighed and grabbed him under the shoulders. He boosted the old bastard up, allowing him to climb up and reach the top of the wall. Sebastian grunted with the effort. "You know, this would be a lot easier if you would just fucking change" he panted.

"Not close enough to the full moon, stop your bitching" wheezed the old man now that he lay on top of the wall.

Sebastian quickly pulled himself up beside the old man. He rested his head in his hands for a second. "What the fuck am I going to do now?" he muttered.

The old man laughed, coughing and choking as he did so. "Not my problem, better hope the boss is in a good mood, or found something else to play with, otherwise, well, I'd not like to be you." He hacked and wheezed and then chuckled some more.

"Fuck you."

The old man grinned. "I'm not the one who's gonna get fucked. Oh, and too bad about your ear. Best of luck then!" With a cheerful salute, he hopped down from the wall and began shuffling away.

Sebastian sat down on a bench and fumbled in his coat pocket. He found a half pack of cigarettes and shook one out. He lit it and smoked in peace for a while. After he ground it out under his toe, he found his phone and called Jim.

Jim had been deep asleep, dreaming of yawning blackness and the horrors of the past. The phone startled him awake, forcing him to remember his dream. He thought about killing the caller till he saw who it was. "If you're calling me, it means you don't have what I want, and that makes me sad, Sebastian" he pouted.

Shit. Sebastian didn't know how to respond to that, he needed to tread carefully. "I can't find her, not yet at least. But I'm almost certain that wherever the hell she is, Sherlock Holmes is with her and definitely not dead."

Jim yawned. "That's nice. Come home, I'm lonely."

Sebastian didn't answer, Jim was in a strange mood and it worried him.

"Oh Bass, please, I'm sorry about your ear, I was just disappointed and that always makes me grumpy. Come home and tell me everything and then we can go to bed, no biting, I promise."

Sebastian sighed. "I don't know, are you sure? Do you want me to keep looking?"

"No, I want you here, I promise to be good, cross my heart and hope to die" chanted Jim.

"Okay, I'll be there soon." Sebastian hung up and stood, stretching. It was too late to easily find a cab, he walked home. Jim was waiting for him when he arrived. He was wearing his black silk pajamas and a matching robe. He was curled up on the couch, lightly dozing. When Sebastian opened the door he woke up and smiled. He held his arms up for Sebastian. Jim looked so sleepy and innocent that Sebastian couldn't stop himself from embracing him. Jim pressed soft kisses into his neck and took his Tiger by the hand, leading him to bed. Sebastian explained everything to Jim as they cuddled in bed. Jim was strangely amused by the fact that Sherlock was still alive. It was just a new game he decided. He was glad for it too. Otherwise how else would he entertain himself?