Sherlock started calling when John hit the third week of spending time in Jim's flat. The aforementioned consulting criminal having made no contact since leaving, and having yet to actually return. Which the assassin didn't necessarily mind, but he still wasn't entirely certain why he'd been left alone in the flat at all much less allowed a sparring partner.

"You said one week. Have there been complications?"

"No, Sherlock. Its fine, I just haven't seen Harry in a long time and I'm still healing. It hasn't exactly been…easy." Careful voice inflection. Aim for a bit of sympathy in the heart he knew was there. Sherlock was simultaneously the hardest and easiest person to lie to. The man was intelligent beyond belief and could read a person's tells in the smallest twitch of a muscle, but he also had more of a heart than what most people thought and he trusted John. More than he should in some senses, but the assassin would never allow actual harm to come to him. A fact that Jim would need to learn if he did want to keep him on as an assassin now that Sebastian was gone. John would not help him pursue Sherlock in their game. Even if that ended in having his secrets revealed as a form of retaliation or consequence.

"Of course. Understandable. But you did give me the approximate of a week. I need your opinion on a case." And so the conversations went. Almost the same each time with only a bit of variation with the order of topics presented. In his own way, it was Sherlock expressing that he was a bit worried about his friend and flatmate. If only the man knew where he actually was.

John had by far improved. The sparring –with help from the general lack of anything else to do—had encouraged the assassin to work on his recovery outside of the sessions. He didn't go through the routines he used to do, but he did exercises that would help build him back up. Starting out early was a bit painful, even with his wound having healed quite a bit, but it was far more beneficial than waiting. It left less time spent where he was off his game and weaker than normal, so the pain was worth it. Especially as he circled his sparring partner from the last three weeks. The man –he'd still never learned his name—circled as well. He wasn't a bad fighter himself, which John was sure why he'd been chosen, but he certainly wasn't an assassin or expert of any kind. It was enough to give John an opponent he wouldn't lay flat instantly…when he was still working on regaining his skills.

The assassin was wearing a form fitting tee-shirt and sweats to allow for easier movement as he moved smoothly around the mat with bare feet. Blue eyes were nearly void of all emotion or inflection, but his lips were curved in a bit of a smirk. Giving away absolutely nothing as he moved, and he struck first. John darted forward with a palm sent for the other's solar plexus. There was only a small protest of pain in his side. A large improvement from when they'd first began, and as always his opponent was quick to block the strike only to be caught as the assassin hooked a leg behind the others. Effectively locking him in place lest he want to fall, but ever the one to try and fight back the man tried to throw an elbow into John's face. It was about the only room he had, but John bent back while maintaining his balance to avoid the clumsy counter before he was righting himself and pressing his palm against his opponent's chest and pushing. It wasn't the most eloquent form of offense, but it was certainly effective for what John was looking for. The man, base already compromised by the leg hooked around his own, flailed a bit as he rocked backwards and fell to the ground. The mat soft, but not soft enough to keep the breath from being knocked out of the other with a rather satisfying grunt of discomfort. His movements had grown smoother, and he worked with greater fluidity and precision than he had when they'd first started. It wasn't perfect, and it wasn't back to John's previous standards and ability, but it was progress. Proof was lying flat on the mat as he tried to regain his breath.

With his attention having been rather focused on the round of sparring, John was surprised to hear slow clapping. While the assassin didn't allow the surprise to show, it didn't change the fact that he had been caught off guard in the first place. John was met with the sight of Jim giving him an almost sardonic smirk were it not for the dark eyes that held a bit of something else he couldn't quite place. The criminal was back to his flawless Westwood suits once more, and he practically radiated the kind of control and power that must come natural to him.

"I see you've taken full advantage of my little courtesy," Jim mused, eyes flicking over the assassin as if assessing him.

"It's better than doing nothing," John said.

"Quite," the criminal hummed. "Much improvement?" The assassin went to answer when he had an arm wrapping around his neck. He heard Jim laugh at his current predicament. Or maybe it was more the scowl that John pulled at letting his guard down once more. The problem was easily fixed when John latched onto the other's arm to get a good grip and shifted a heel back to cross his leg in front his opponent's. He remained calm as he used his strength and his attacker's weight against them by ducking a bit and tossing them over his hip while yanking down on the arm around his neck. The hold was broken and another grunt of pain sounded as a spine connected with the mat.

"Of course there has been," Jim continued happily, flashing a smirk.

"Should be good for a contract if it wouldn't stand out," John replied, stepping around the downed man to step off the mat.

"Glad to hear it, Johnny." the other practically sang. "Get showered and dressed. I have a job for you." John had to think over the words for a moment.

"Sorry?"

"Go get your shower," Jim repeated. "Can't take you anywhere like that, Johnny-boy."

John sighed at the general lack of answers he was getting, but he really should have been used to that by now. The assassin brushed past Jim to get to the hall where the shower was located. The criminal's dark eyes were practically burning holes into him as he moved by, and it left John with chills running down his spine. A fact that he was rather unhappy with as he disappeared into the bathroom. There was already a box in the bathroom that was resting on the sink. He eyed it curiously before shutting the door and stripping to climb into the shower.

He was rather glad to have the opportunity as he was sweating a bit from the exertion of putting his wound through his activities. While his showers were never particularly drawn out, it still gave John a bit of time to think and clear his head. Jim was back, and he'd come with a job. One he wasn't specifying on. Somehow he doubted that it would necessarily involve too many bodies due to his constraints on leaving them. Considering that the other hadn't mentioned this before he assumed that meant that this had come up suddenly, or at least Jim hadn't thought of it before he left.

Five minutes, and the assassin was out of the shower and toweling himself dry as he looked the box over. His name was on it, so obviously he was meant to have it. When John took the lid off of the otherwise seemingly nondescript white box he nearly groaned, but was a touch too shocked to allow the sound to escape. The criminal couldn't be serious…

Jim had been too caught up in his work to remember that he'd long since arranged to make an appearance at a function. He wasn't actually going as himself –as Moriarty—as that would be ridiculous. It would ruin the effect of being a faceless and nameless entity all together. Of course some people had the honor of working closely with him, but for the most part most never saw him face to face. Those who did often weren't aware that they were even speaking to Jim himself. It gave him a greater opportunity to get a feel for future assets and expansions to his already thriving empire without needing to deal with middlemen. No matter how competent they might be, the criminal preferred his own judgment.

"This is ridiculous," he heard John mutter, and the criminal looked up to see the assassin was walking down the hall towards him. Jim smirked a bit at the scowl and look of discomfort on the other's face, but his dark gaze was soon moving down John's body to take in his new attire. Far better than the awful jumpers he normally wore when he wasn't on contracts. The criminal had to pull his attention off of the rather appealing sight of John in the near perfectly tailored three-piece Westwood. The suit made of a dark charcoal colored material with a white shirt beneath the vest and jacket. Considering the fact that John looked like he wanted to crawl out of his skin Jim was rather glad that he'd opted to allow for some form of comfort in the form of bypassing on a tie. John certainly looked good in the suit without one, at any rate. The criminal was quick to catch that train of thought and end it before it went any further.

"Much better," Jim hummed, still smirking easily. John didn't appear to be overly amused. The criminal found it rather adorable.

"What is this 'job'?" he questioned, eyes narrowed.

"You're my plus-one!" Jim announced, "It was going to be Sebby, but now that he's in prison…"

"Plus-one?"

"Come on, Johnny." he sighed. "I need a bodyguard, so you're coming along with me as a plus-one to a little party I have to get to." Jim was finding the assassin's confusion and frustration amusing as ever.

"If I have to wear this I want to kill someone," John said, and Jim couldn't keep in a laugh. If only little Sherlock could see who his beloved doctor actually was.

"And ruin it? Westwood, Johnny, never ruin a Westwood." Jim chided.

"Don't really care."

"Maybe you'll get lucky and something exciting will happen. Otherwise, try to avoid killing anyone. Fun as that would be."

"What is this, anyway?" John questioned, rolling his soldiers and obviously trying to get comfortable. "The 'party'?"

"Bit of a get together between a few of my assets, and a few that aren't mine yet. I get out more than you might think." He hummed in answer. "I'll explain on the way, Johnny. We don't want to be late." The assassin's lips pursed, but he nodded to show he was about as ready as he'd ever be. Grinning, Jim moved forward and swept out of the flat with John trailing not far behind. Waiting for them was a rather nice black car with a driver waiting for them. Jim darted forward smoothly and beat the driver to opening the door as he gave John a sardonic grin and a mock bow of sorts. The assassin only rolled his eyes, but the smirk was impossible not to notice as it twitched onto the other's lips briefly. John slipped into the car, Jim following inside as the driver took the wheel.

"By the way," he added as they pulled out onto the roads, glancing to John with his dark eyes unreadable as he passed the other a case. "Might need that."

John's brows threatened to disappear into his hairline as he opened the case and looked over the contents. His lips quirked a bit as his expression showed rather obvious appreciation for what he'd found. "Thought I wasn't supposed to kill anyone?"

"Oh you're not, but I'm so changeable." Jim replied, grin a mix of nearly giddy joy and murderous thoughts. The assassin sent him a smirk and low chuckled in response, and not long after Jim started explaining what they'd be doing. How it would work. Finding, as the ride dragged on, that he was growing increasingly pleased with the fact that he didn't have to re-explain concepts several times over as he had to with Sebastian. The man hadn't been unintelligent, but he was so reckless at times that Jim had no choice but to near beat the information into the other's thick skull through repetition. John, on the other hand, was intelligent and he listened. His questions, few and far between, were based more on the logistics of what he'd be doing and looking out for. This was the first time they'd be working this closely, after all. John had already revealed that he'd never played 'bodyguard' to anyone. Never even served as a sniper during a meeting or negotiation. Jim still had full confidence in the other's ability for this, however. Besides, it would be interesting having him close for this.

"Try to relax, Johnny." Jim murmured in a low hum as he smirked at John. The man looked like he would far prefer to crawl into a dark hole after leaving his skin. This function of assets and future assets –as Jim saw it as—was formal. The rich criminals and their organizations among others dressed well, noses up, and the venue was a rather expensive mansion of sorts. The assassin had probably never been somewhere like this unless he was in black and set up with a rifle ready to take a shot at one of the guests.

"Easy for you," John replied, but the other had made the effort of allowing the tension to melt out of his shoulders. He looked much better when relaxed. Jim's lips pursed a bit at that thought.

"Go mingle, see what you can find out." He suggested, and John gave him a bit of an incredulous look. "You'll keep an eye on me." He continued as if reading the other's thoughts. John snorted softly, but moved off to join one of the many small congregations of people laughing and talking amongst themselves. As uncomfortable as John had been, it was rather interesting to watch the other slip into the group and easily conform into it. Fitting in almost instantly as he blended in, and soon he was laughing and speaking with the ease of a natural. Jim chuckled to himself as he turned away from the sight and scanned the rest of the room. A familiar face catching his eyes and causing a dark brow to rise.

Jim was soon gliding to the other side of the decently crowded ballroom where this whole thing was taking place to come up behind his target. A dark smirk already curling his lips as he clasped his hands behind his back. "My, this is a surprise." Jim sang. "I thought you were hiding in America."

"Jim, wonderful to see you again." Irene replied, turning to face the criminal. "You look good."

"So do you, considering you are dead." Jim mused.

"What can I say; it's hard to stay away for too long. I'll be going back once this is over." she said, and Jim chuckled.

"Let's hope so, wouldn't want our Virgin distracted, now would we." He said innocently.

She hid her emotions fairly well, but then again he expected nothing less from The Women. "Where's Sebastian? He's always attached at the hip."

"Had a bit of a problem. I do think he's in prison by now." Jim answered happily.

"He's what?" Irene questioned, surprise actually coloring her voice as she smiled slowly.

"You head perfectly well, my dear." Jim said, "Sherlock caught up to him last month."

"But he doesn't know he had anything to do with you," she assumed, and Jim's answering smirk seemed to be enough of a confirmation. "You've found a replacement, then?"

"Something like that," Jim mused, daring her to find them in the crowd. Irene smirked herself as she started looking over the various faces around the room. It took her several minutes given the sheer amount of people, but when she found him it was obvious. The painted red lips parting a bit as her jaw went slack and her eyes widened in genuine surprise as the sight of John Watson, mingling in his Westwood suit. If there was any question as to why he was there in her mind, it was soon answered as the assassin's eyes easily found Jim for a brief moment. Always aware of the other's position. John's eyes flicked to Irene, and while Jim was certain the man was more than a bit surprised he rolled with it to keep his composure and character before returning to the conversation he was participating in.

"John Watson?" Irene breathed.

"Interesting, isn't it?" Jim hummed in response.

"Sherlock can't know this," she said, tearing her gaze from the sight of John to look back at Jim. "It's impossible."

"Oh trust me, my dear, I'm very aware of how impossible it seems." Jim mused. "The Soldier is The Assassin."

"I had no idea," she said, and Jim was aware that she actually sounded a touch impressed by the fact. Not unlike how he himself had felt once he'd learned what John really was. "And you managed to get him to work for you?"

"Now, now, Ms. Adler." Jim chided, dark eyes flashing. "You only get so much. Can't have the fun ruined too soon."

"Hmm…I'd be careful, James." she warned, but she was smiling coyly. "You might be in a bit of danger with this one."

"Threat?" he questioned, tone dropping enough to make the woman pale a bit. He found the result satisfying.

"No," she recovered smoothly. "A warning. I know my way around my business. You're in danger with John Watson." Jim gave her an unreadable look, one brow raised and his near ever present smirk on his lips. They talked for a few more moments before they parted ways. He was intensely amused by the fact that he didn't see her again. The Women appeared to have decided that returning to America a bit early was best, and that left Jim to wonder at what threat he had in the form of John Watson.

Hello! I've updated! What on earth could Jim have given John? What will happen at this little get together? (Hint: I know ;-) ) But I want to hear what you guys are thinking too.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays however you're celebrating. I hope to update again before the New Year, but just in case I hope everyone has a Happy New Year

Reviews are amazing, and thanks to those who have left them and stuck with me through my leave of absence.

Have a good day

Reaperess ^_^