Sebastian carried John to bed and pulled him next to him under the covers, wrapping his arms around him protectively. He wished he could shield him from everything forever.
John was still fully dressed, and it was only about 8:30, but he curled against Sebastian, as close as he possibly could. He wanted to revel in the solid comfort of Sebastian's arms around him, but he fell asleep almost immediately, exhausted.
Sebastian watched John for a while after John had fallen asleep. He could spend the rest of his life with this man, he realized. He wanted to. He loved John. Even now that he was beaten and worn down and holding onto his soul by a thread, he loved him.
For the first night in a month, John wasn't woken by a nightmare or the sound of Jim's yelling. Instead, he was slowly roused by the feel of a warm body next to him and the smell of bacon and eggs. He slowly blinked awake. Not immediately remembering what had happened the night before, he stiffened as he recognized he was in Jim's bed. What had Jim done to him?
Sebastian's lips pressed into his shoulder. "Morning," he whispered. "You looked like you slept well." He nuzzled into John's neck.
John relaxed immediately as the memories of last night flooded his brain and he let out a relieved, unsteady, almost terrified sob. He wasn't crying, but the crushing relief weighed him down for a moment. He pressed his palms to his eyes to gain control over himself before he turned back to him. "Morning..."
"Hi," Sebastian said, looking him over almost in disbelief. He smoothed back John's hair with his hand. "Hey..." He sounded like an idiot. He didn't even care.
"Hi," John said. He scooted closer, craving Sebastian's touch. He didn't say anything for a long moment, just pressed his forehead against Sebastian's, closing his eyes while the other's fingers raked through his hair. He was terrified for when Jim came home. What if he made John sleep on the floor and watch while he fucked Sebastian again? John didn't know what he would do. "You made breakfast?"
"Yeah," Sebastian murmured, his nose lightly touching John's. "Eggs are a bit runny and the bacon's well burnt, but I don't cook often, so take advantage." He smiled and leaned in to lightly kiss him. "You're getting thin, John." He tenderly ran his hand down John's side, where he could feel ribs where he shouldn't.
John gave a small smile. "I don't get to eat very often," he said dismissively. He sat up on the bed and looked over at the food and gave another small smile. The egss were indeed runny and the bacon indeed burnt. "It looks delicious."
"Don't lie, John," Sebastian laughed. "It's not anything good, but it's nourishment. And it's something you didn't have to make yourself." He scratched his stubble, suddenly a bit sheepish. "You're taking the day off today. Do you hear me? You are going to the park and you are going to Do Nothing. That's an order."
Another small smile appeared on John's face. "Yes, sir." He leaned in to give Sebastian a small kiss. "And what are you doing? Will you come?"
"You're smiling—" Sebastian looked at in awe. "God, I missed your smile, John." If he could get John to laugh today, he'd be in heaven. "Yeah, I'll come. I have a couple errands to run today, but I don't think they'll take more than a few hours tops. And I imagine you'd like a few hours to wander by yourself and feel like a free man for a tiny amount of time. It's the least I can give you, the very least." He sat up and stretched.
John nodded and took the tray of food, setting it between them. He picked up a fork and started to slowly pick at and eat the food. "Okay...when and where do we meet? I haven't got my phone anymore, so we'll need to have a plan."
"Right. The duck pond in St. James' Park, bench under the willow tree. Near the south entrance. I'll be there by noon, and I'll bring sandwiches or something."
John nodded and leaned across the tray to kiss Sebastian again. He ran a hand down the side of Sebastian's face lovingly. God, what he would've given to have known that Sebastian had cared all of this time. "Duck pond, willow tree, noon."
"Mmmhmm," Sebastian hummed into his mouth. "I'll try not to be late." Or covered in blood. First he'd do the hit, then he'd go to his meeting. "Well, I suppose the sooner I leave, the sooner I can see you again." He was reluctant, almost afraid, to leave John alone. John would be fine in the city, of course—if he was out and about, Jim's men wouldn't have any orders to react in any sort of way. If they mentioned it to Jim, he'd explain that he'd sent John off to do some errands with a tracker ankle cuff on, since he'd been so obedient lately. Simple as that.
John nodded. He didn't want Sebastian to go. "Is...I mean...is there anything I should be doing?" He remembered the list, and groaned. "I can't take today off. Jim's left me a list of things to do."
"What things?" Sebastian frowned.
John sighed and started naming off the impossible list of items Jim had prepared for him.
Sebastian's heart sunk. Couldn't Jim give him one day off? He was running John ragged. He would talk to Jim when he got home. "How do you manage to do all of those things in one day?" he asked. "I would help you, John, but the security cameras will pick it up and it'll seem odd."
"It's okay," John said glumly. A day out would be so nice...especially a day with Sebastian. "It's not like I have anything else to do."
"You have a day with me that needs to happen," Sebastian growled. "FUCK! You shouldn't have to bear all of this."
John flinched a bit, looking away. He didn't know what to say. "I...I'm sorry...sir," he mumbled, the title falling in automatically.
Sebastian buried his head in his hands. John was still in slave mode. He missed the John who would call him out for being arrogant, who'd snap back with some sarcastic remark, who'd grin and crack a joke. He hoped to God that that John, his John, wasn't lost forever. "I gotta go. You work on as much of that stuff as you can. When I get back, we'll sort out the rest of our day." He leaned over and kissed John's forehead, his lips lingering against the lined skin.
He gave a small nod, glancing up. He watched as Sebastian left and sighed, feeling like a useless fool. He picked at the rest of the meal, eating most of it, then showered, did the dishes, and started about his chores.
Sebastian impatiently tracked down the smuggler, who was luckily still sleeping in. It only took a blow to the head, a pillow to stifle the noise, and a point-blank gunshot to finish the job, then it was off to Baker Street, once he'd wiped the blood off his boots. His heart hammered as he rang the doorbell. Sherlock had been intimidating the last time he'd been here, and John had been with him then.
Sherlock opened the door a minute later, his eyes immediately narrowing at him. "You."
Sebastian pulled out the cigarette he'd been smoking and ground it under his boot. "I need to talk to you about John Watson."
Sherlock's eyes narrowed even farther, but an eyebrow went up. He took a step back and opened the door to let Sebastian in, his eyes raking over him.
Sebastian stepped in cautiously, very aware of the gun tucked into the back of his trousers, hidden by his coat. He looked around the flat. "I'm, erm...I'm not who I said I was. I mean, I was, but..." God, he'd rehearsed this over and over, but he'd never been good with words. How did he explain that he worked for Moriarty without getting arrested immediately? He'd really rather not kill Sherlock Holmes.
Sherlock held up a hand, cutting him off as he closed the door. "Might I start by saying that if you want this conversation to continue, you should remove the gun from the back of your trousers and set it on the table over there." He nodded at the kitchen table. "I have a general idea of who you are, Sebastian Moran. Perhaps you're here to fill in the gaps?"
Sebastian looked at him in surprise, then with a nervous "you-caught-me" grin, he pulled the gun out and set it on the table. He swallowed. "What's your general idea about me, Mr. Holmes?" he asked.
Sherlock's expression remained neutral as Sebastian pulled out the gun and set it on the table. "My general idea, Mr. Moran, is that you are a gunman for Jim Moriarty. You've clearly just come from a kill, you cooked bacon and eggs for breakfast, and have recently come into contact with John Watson." Sherlock's eyes sharpened into a death glare and he added in an ice cold voice, "And if you have hurt him physically or mentally, know that I will take every pleasure in slitting your throat and watching your blood pool across the floor in a crimson puddle."
The hairs on Sebastian's arms raised. He was not easily intimidated, but this man was an exception. "I haven't hurt him. Willingly, that is. He's in a…situation, and I'm trying to get him out. Problem is, Jim has us both quite well trapped. It's beyond me, and the only person who can match Jim in wits is, well...you." He gave a grudging sigh. "So here I am, Mr. Holmes. I'm hiring you. To save John."
Sherlock had not been expecting that. A quick eyebrow raise and a lingering, expressionless look was all that gave it away though. He clasped his hands behind his back and packed across the room before gesturing to John's chair. "Well, then, Mr. Moran, I think it's time you tell me everything."
Sebastian sat down and explained how when he and John had met, they really hadn't know who each other were. By the time they found out, they'd developed feelings for each other and couldn't stay away from each other, even though they both knew it was wrong. He explained how Jim Moriarty had found out, and thought it would be fun to turn John into his personal slave. He steered clear of the many times John had been raped or tortured, but outlined that John had no freedom and no choice to try and escape or even to end his own life.
"Everyone he cares about will die if he disobeys Jim, he's promised that," Sebastian said. "Including you. The thing is, I'm Jim's number two man—I've worked for him the longest, he trusts me the most, and I still have no idea how deep or complex his web of workers is. I would off John's snipers if I could, but I don't know who they are, and if I did, I wouldn't know who'd come next. You know? It's a mess. I don't even think Jim has it written down anywhere. It's all—" he tapped his forehead, "Up here. He just stores stuff like that. Well, I'm sure you know," he sighed.
Sherlock listened in silence as Sebastian spoke. He shoved down all of the emotions that tried coming bubbling to the surface. He'd known for quite some time that John was in trouble, and he had been fairly sure that Moriarty was to blame. He'd been treading lightly so far, knowing all too well how Moriarty loved setting booby traps and creating caveats. He'd enlisted Mycroft's help, but to no avail. Moriarty was a genius at covering his tracks. Sherlock would have been love with the elegance of it all if he hadn't been so enraged that Moriarty was doing something to keep John away and unhappy.
A week ago he had paid the garbage man to deliver him all the rubbish set out in front of the townhouse he was fairly certain was Moriarty's main residence, and sure enough, there were signs of John everywhere. Folded tissues from a runny nose, bits of fuzz from being shoved into his jumper's pockets, little notes, specific brands of food that John preferred. He'd puzzled over why Jim was keeping John, but once Sebastian explained, he was taken aback. He'd never dreamed that Moriarty's interest and involvement with John went so deep.
"You want me to untangle Jim Moriarty's web," he stated. Saying the thought was daunting was a massive understatement, but at the same time, it was intriguing, and it would mean getting John back. "I accept, obviously."
Sebastian nodded. "I'll give you all the information I have. Names, profiles, schedules as far as I know them. They all know who you are, I know that much." As he began listing off as much as he knew, he felt like a traitor, even though Jim had done so many unforgiveable things. What would he be without Jim? What would he do without him? Could he lead a "normal" life? Killing had been his profession for so long, he didn't know what else he was good for.
Once Sebastian had finished, Sherlock nodded. He hadn't needed to write any of it down. He steepled his fingers against his lips and sighed. "I'll start immediately." He paused a moment." Don't say anything to John about our meeting. I have no idea how long this will take me. The less he knows the better. While it will give him something to hold on to, it will also start to eat away at him the longer it takes me. He may not realize he has expectations for how long this will take, but he will and I don't want to make him wait. From what I understand of the situation, you are enough to keep his hopes up for now." Sherlock couldn't understand how that was possible, but he also couldn't figure out why Sebastian would come to him unless he really did care deeply for John.
It was good advice, but Sebastian felt a bit abashed at his comment about him keeping John's hopes up. He rose. "Whatever happens...don't let this get back to Jim."
Sherlock scoffed. "What? Do you think we're pen pals? If anyone needs to worry about this getting back to Jim it's you."
Sebastian bristled. "Believe me, if Jim ever found out what I'd be doing, he would make my death last for days. I have no desire to be found out. Now. Anything else you'll be needing from me? Here's my mobile number in case you need to text. I'll have you in my phone under a false name, in case you contact me."
"Obviously..." Sherlock watched him as the man headed towards the door, "And Sebastian...keep an eye on him for me." He swallowed, then cleared his throat and turned to scoop up his violin. He needed to think.
"Always," Sebastian said. He paused in the doorway. "I might not like you, Mr. Holmes, but we've got one thing in common, haven't we? And that's enough, sometimes."
He nodded to the detective and left, hurrying home to John.
John sat on the kitchen floor and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand before dunking the rag back into the soapy bucket of water and continuing to scrub the floor. He'd been working non-stop, hoping that he'd get ahead of the list and have a bit of time to go to the park with Sebastian, but it didn't look like that was going to happen. Of all things, he seemed to have fallen behind. He didn't want to think about what Jim would do it he didn't have everything done by the time he returned, so he sighed and mopped at the tiles with his cloth.
Sebastian came in and heard the sound of scrubbing in the kitchen. "Hey, Cinderella. I'm back." Unsure if there were any cameras in the kitchen, he avoided pulling John to his feet and kissing him like he wanted to do. "How's the list?"
"Neverending..." John mumbled. "It's on the counter if you want to take a look."
Sebastian looked it over. The list was full of time-consuming, menial tasks that looked as if they were designed specifically to keep John busy. One of the items was "dust out and reshelve the spice rack in alphabetical order." Another was, "retile the upper toilet floor."
"What the actual fuck?" Sebastian grunted. "Well, I have an errand for you to run, and since Jim left me in charge, I'll take full responsibility for any tasks that don't get done as a result." He got out a piece of paper and began scribbling on it. "I have a great deal of shopping to do and no desire to do it myself. Also, you need to get the caulking and tiles and chisels for the toilet floor."
He slid the note to John, which wasn't a list at all, but just the words,
Security cameras, you know. Meet me at St. James Park in a half an hour, at the predetermined spot. We'll have an hour off.
Aloud he said, "I have other things to do, so hurry up, for God's sake." He tried to retain a grin, then went out the door.
"Uh...yes. Yes, sir..." John blinked at the note and shoved it in his pocket. "Right away." John had to purse his lips so as not to smile. He hurriedly pulled on his coat and shoes, two things he hadn't worn for nearly a month, and headed out the door, a grin breaking across his face as a rare sun for London shone down on him.