I know it's been about a year since I worked on this... to be fair, it was about 8 months before anyone seemed to miss it. xp A guest posted a review on the last chapter to let me know they were waiting for an update. I was touched. So, here we are. I reread almost the entire story to remind myself what the heck I was doing, and I just hope it picks up without too much weirdness. Enjoy!
Warning: More cat kinks, dirtier than ever. Turn back, faint of heart.
Big Game
The Blind Baboon part 5
"Good minions are so hard to find," Jim complained to Sebastian one afternoon. "You give them all the resources they need to pull off an excellent crime, and what do you get in return? Incompetence!"
"That's the trouble with being a genius," Sebastian told him. "You're forced to deal with those less intelligent than yourself. It can't be helped."
Jim eyed him partly with annoyance and partly with admiration. "Are you waxing philosophical on me?"
"I'll keep my comments to myself, if you prefer."
"No, no... that's all right." Jim wandered to the edge of the little cliff and crouched to look down at the marshland sweltering in the low-hanging sun. After a few minutes, he spotted a bird flying toward him, and he sat up. "Aha."
"Professor," the bird huffed, coming to perch on the rocks beside him.
"News of Miss Adler?" Jim asked.
"Our spies have learned that she has put off taking clients."
"Oh. Now, why would she do that?" Jim asked in a far too innocent tone, and with a smirk that said he required no answer. "Anything else?"
"That's all for now."
"All right. Keep up the good work."
The bird took off and Jim sat licking his chops in anticipation.
"Good news?" Sebastian asked.
"Good? Bad? It's interesting, anyway. Only time will tell whether it's good or bad." It may not mean anything. And even if she is pregnant, it's her first time and a cross-species... any cubs probably won't survive. Still. I could be a daddy. He smiled to himself at the bizarre situation. "If only those Chinese morons would get their act together," he sighed. "I may have to send you on an errand soon... to deal with them."
"Dinnertime, boss!" Clem announced with effort, dragging a choice piece of meat up to the ledge.
Sebastian took the burden from him, making it look much lighter than it really was.
"Good," said Jim. "Go."
Clem went. He was starting to learn not to stick around where he wasn't wanted.
Sebastian let Jim feed first, not wanting to be taken unawares. Jim had told him this wasn't necessary—and it was true that no one had ever dared attack Jim since Sebastian had joined his employ—but the longer he was with the leopard, the more he seemed to want to do his job well.
"This is good food," Jim said, happily munching away. "The dingos have really started to pull their weight since we moved up here."
"It would seem so," Sebastian agreed.
Jim sat back, licking the gore from the corner of his mouth. "Go on, have some." He watched Sebastian take the order as he always did, and after a while joined in again.
When the carcase was more or less clean, it went to Clem as usual.
"That was fine, wasn't it?" Jim asked, stretching out for his grooming.
"Very satisfying," Sebastian answered in his usual disengaged tone.
"Well, I'm not satisfied just yet."
Sebastian knew that was his cue to begin grooming. The tiger was getting used to giving Jim's coat more attention than it really needed, and to letting Jim take a few liberties now and then.
Jim decided it was time to push the boundaries again. He cleaned Sebastian's face quickly and waited for his own to be cleaned; then, as usual, he began blazing a trail down toward parts unknown. He shifted around so Sebastian couldn't reach his head or neck anymore, and as he continued on, Sebastian was forced to lick further and further down his body. He wouldn't stop without being told; he was much too good a subordinate for that. It wasn't until Jim was licking his most tender parts that he left off, claws extending with the excruciating sensations.
Jim put his foreleg over Sebastian's waist and licked gently over his ample sack. Sebastian's breath was becoming heavy; the sound of the large cat's deep, quiet huffing made Jim tingle. He began teasing Sebastian's penis as he felt his own begging for attention. He lifted his leg by Sebastian's face, sure that his need would be obvious.
Sebastian hadn't refused an order yet, and he didn't disappoint. Soon, Jim felt his attentions being mirrored by his tiger. "Yes," he said quietly, just one word to let Sebastian know he was following orders correctly. Not long after that, he had to lie back, focusing on the glorious feelings Sebastian was producing in him. Every time that pink tongue touched him, he felt ready to explode; finally, he did. He kept his exclamation as quiet as he could, not wanting that idiot Clem to run back up and interrupt them.
Then he was back in the hollow under Sebastian's leg, teasing back his erection, closing his mouth over it for the first time. Sebastian squirmed hard, digging his claws into the ground and shuddering. Jim was careful not to let his teeth do more than graze Sebastian lightly, though it got very tricky as he began to suck.
"Jim," Sebastian panted out, followed by a feral growl.
Jim renewed his efforts until Sebastian was all but convulsing under him. Then something hot spilled into Jim's mouth and he swallowed it greedily. He pulled back, licking Sebastian clean, and then licking his lips. He looked at the puddle of melted tiger before him and felt a new thrill in his chest. Well, well, you great beast... look what I've done to you. He began to purr. He looked down at his own seed which had sprayed over his underside. "It seems you're not quite done grooming me," he said matter-of-factly.
"Apologies, sir," Sebastian said, a little unsteadily. "Let me correct that oversight."
A few minutes later they lay quite snug together, waiting for sleep. Jim was still purring.
"A book is like a magic garden carried in your pocket."
John blinked in the darkness, fighting the pounding in his head. There was a fire burning nearby, and a figure was stalking toward him, casting a long, flickering shadow.
"Chinese proverb, Mr. Holmes."
"What? I'm not Sherlock Holmes," John protested. The idea was absurd. Who could mistake an ocelot for a cheetah?
"Forgive me if I do not take your word for it," the lean cat before him said, smiling. She lifted the ID tag and credit token that hung around John's neck.
"Oh, but... he lent me those to look after..."
"We heard it from your own mouth."
"What?"
"I am Sherlock Holmes, and I always work alone... because no one else can compete with my massive intellect."
John laughed nervously. "Did I really say that?"
"I am General Shan. Three times we tried to kill you and your companion, Mr. Holmes. What does it tell you when an assassin cannot take out his target?" She lifted one of the smallest handguns John had ever seen and sat back on her haunches to cock it.
John wriggled, but there were cords tightly binding his paws together. I'm going to die here. I don't even know where here is.
The gun clicked—nothing happened. John shuddered in relief.
"It tells you that they're not really trying," she concluded. "If we wanted you dead, we would have killed you long ago; we merely wished to make you inquisitive." The Chinese cat opened her gun, loaded two bullets into it with surprising quickness, and snapped it shut again. "Do you have it?" she asked.
John vaguely remembered his attacker asking the same thing. "Have what?"
"The treasure."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Everything has its price..." Shan nodded to the side, and for the first time John saw that Sarah was also trussed up like a helpless impala, but she was gagged as well. "The price for her life is information."
They were behind some rocks at the base of a cliff, the two rocky walls forming a sort of tunnel. To his dismay, John saw the cat's minions setting up the daring escape they had watched in the circus act.
"Where is the charm? We had a buyer, but someone got greedy and brought the pin here, to the Yard's jurisdiction, and you have been searching..."
"I'm not Sherlock Holmes," John tried again. "You have to believe me."
"I need a volunteer from the audience," his antagonist said with excellent showmanship.
"No, please," John protested. This was like his worst nightmare. Forget a date gone badly—someone he cared about was going to be killed before his very eyes.
"Thank you, lady! Yes, you'll do very nicely."
The sandbag was slit... John began to lose hope as the foreign feline continued as if announcing a sold-out show. In desperation, he exclaimed once again, "I'm not Sherlock Holmes!"
"I don't believe you."
"You should, you know," declared a strong voice. "Sherlock Holmes is nothing at all like him."
The small, but formidable gun-wielder turned her weapon in the direction of the voice.
"How would you describe me, John? Resourceful? Dynamic? Enigmatic?"
"Late?" John suggested, still struggling to keep the panic down.
"That's a servalpaw semi-automatic. It fires rounds at a thousand meters per second."
"Well?" Shan demanded, still staring hard in the firelight.
"Well..." There was a sudden *thud* in the darkness, and one of her henchmen collapsed. Sherlock melted back into the shadows before she could react.
That's my cheetah... damn fast, John thought, daring to hope again.
"These rock walls are less than four meters apart, with outcroppings at all angles. If you miss, the bullet will ricochet. Could hit anyone. It might even come back to hit you."
John doubted that was possible—that the bullet could make a complete directional reversal and still have enough force to injure the shooter, but he wasn't about to point that out.
While the Asian cat sat worriedly caressing her gun, Sherlock suddenly sprang forward and knocked over a large box used to hold circus equipment. It landed on the fire, effectively smothering most of the flames. In the deeper darkness, he darted over to Sarah and slashed at her bonds with his claws.
Then Ji Joo made his move, flipping a long scarf around Sherlock's neck and tightening it with efficient force.
Seeing that Sherlock was unlikely to be able to free Sarah in time, John began squirming over the ground toward the arrow-firing apparatus. All four paws were tied together, and he couldn't free a single one, but by wriggling his entire body, he could make some progress. The rocks tore at his coat, but he paid no attention. Must... stop... it... He tried not to watch the descending weight and focus only on the supporting structure. Just a little further... He swung his knotted legs around and knocked the apparatus to the side.
The arrow was released; it sailed across the tunnel to lodge firmly in Ji Joo's chest.
John didn't take any pleasure in killing, and he knew it would haunt him that he might have hit Sherlock instead, but part of him was glad to avenge Soo Lin.
Shan scampered away before Sherlock could recover his wind. It was a pity, but really they had plenty to be thankful for.
Inspector Dimmock arrived some time later, much chagrined for not listening to Sherlock in the first place. John heard him say that in future he would do as Sherlock instructed.
"Exactly," Sherlock said cheerfully.
They saw Sarah safely home, and John took leave of her with as much grace as he could. Then he and Sherlock wandered home and looked over the coded message once more.
"A charm worth nine million...?" John said incredulously. "Why so much?"
"Depends who owned it," Sherlock answered. "It's over a thousand years old, and it belonged to an empress."
Sherlock took some little pleasure in going back to the bank to confront Van Coon's secretary. When he made it clear he knew about her affair with her boss, the female wild dog became flustered and defensive.
"Well, it couldn't last of course," she said. "A wild dog and a hyena... and him my boss. And anyway, he didn't appreciate me. Canceled our vacation plans to go to China of all places."
"But he brought you back a present to say sorry," Sherlock said, eying the charm hanging from her decorative collar. "May I have a look at it?"
"Very well."
Sherlock got the little green dragon charm loose with some difficulty. Clumsy paws.
"He said he got it from some poor vendor..."
"Oh, I don't think that's true. I think he pinched it."
"Yes, that sounds like Eddie."
"He didn't know its value; he just thought it would suit you."
"Really? What's it worth?"
"Well, the currency isn't standardized yet, but when it is... nine million sterling?"
She shrieked. "Oh my god... nine million?!"
Sherlock grinned. Sometimes it was fun to drop grisly news and shock everyone, but delivering ridiculously nice news was even better.
"He should have just gotten her a lucky cat," John said that evening.
Sherlock smiled a little, but it looked mechanical.
"It bothers you that Shan got away, doesn't it?"
"I might have caught her."
"In the dark?"
"If I got after her quick enough, it wouldn't have mattered."
"Well, now that we know the cypher, maybe Dimmock and the Yard—"
Sherlock shook his head. "No. I cracked this code... all the smugglers have to do is pick up another book."
"And which book was it, by the way?"
"Leonid Law. The one book you can find anywhere in Africa, and a lot of other regions, too. Very accessible."
Somewhere in a dark little village en route back to China, General Shan tapped out a message on a telegraph. Without you, we would not have had safe passage into pride territory. You have my thanks.
Immediately, an answer came back to her: Gratitude is meaningless. It is only the expectation of further favours.
We did not know Sherlock Holmes would interfere, she replied. And now, your safety is compromised.
They cannot trace this back to me.
Earnestly, Shan tapped her last message. I will not reveal your identity.
I am certain.
She did not know who it was, or how they had found her. She did not know she would be killed with a shot from a tigerpaw rifle. But she knew from those final words that Moriarty was not expressing faith in her. He was expressing the faith in himself to clean up mistakes.
I'm not sure that was worth waiting a year for, but I hope it lives up to the rest of the story. ^_^ As always, I'd love to hear from you.
Spoiler PS - Now that we're past season 3 I'm very proud of myself for saying right from the end of season 2 that I knew with certainty that Moriarty was coming back. I just hope the scripts are good enough for him in season 4. *wink*