CHAPTER 63. GAME ON

Sherlock tried to iron out the day's events, Lestrade refused to take officer Kelly's statement until he went home with his family. The woman who had hired Moriarty to fake the painting was now in custody willing to cooperate, she said nothing about having a gun held to her head.

It was such an odd turn of dealings, and now John would be heading to Sarah's. Boring.

It was best though, Sherlock had a score to settle and he planned on meeting his proclaimed nemesis and wannabe equal, face to face.

John believed Sherlock had given the memory stick to Mycroft, silly John. Always so trusting, had he really observed Sherlock's body language he'd of guessed right away it was lie. However John wasn't looking for lies, he didn't doubt or question Sherlock. Now if the consulting detective had said he'd eaten today then it would be an entirely different scenario. Really John was such a simple and complex creature. Predictable.

~0~

"Ooh, Sebby you've caught me a little soldier boy. Ah, he's all wrapped up in explosives. You shouldn't have." Sebastian fought the urge to roll his eyes, Jim's voice was light and excited. He was clapping his hands happily and nearly jumping for joy.

"It wasn't difficult. Really it was too easy. I expected a fight but he hardly put one up." Sebastian accepted the red silk handkerchief from Jim to wipe the dried blood from his nose. He tried not to walk too stiffly, however Jim knew right away that Sebastian wasn't exactly telling the whole truth.

Sebastian hauled the unconscious Doctor into the dimly lit locker room. This place, the smell of chlorine, it was all too familiar.

That Carl Powers had thought he found his way out just like this little bastard. Sebastian resisted the sudden temptation to kick the unconscious Doctor. The explosives wrapped securely around the shorter man was of course the deciding factor.

Sebastian scowled at the unconscious form, he hated everything the man represented.

Carl had thought he was going to get a free ticket out of Haven Homes with a swimming scholarship. Jim had taken care of the sadistic bully, this had scared Moran. Only because he feared Jim would be found out, especially when that Holmes kid was trying to rouse suspicion.

He and his little pet playing detective. Really, why couldn't he just drop it? Jim took those damn trainers; he took them and hid them. Refusing to tell Moran where he'd stashed them, only saying they were in a safe place.

Yeah, he still didn't know where that had been. Seeing how Carl's shoes, poisoned by the way, were in great shape. They looked brand new in fact, how Jim preserved them so well he would never know.

This whole game Jim played with Holmes was sick, but as usual Sebastian came along for the ride. Sometimes Jim got a bit out of hand, it was Seb's job to cover the kid's ass when this occurred. Although, Jim wasn't a kid anymore was he? He was a well known consulting criminal. Just the whisper of his name in any criminal circle brought whole syndicates to their knees, and politicians scurrying to appease the thin Irishman.

Sebastian liked this, yeah, they had come a long way since Haven Home.

He needed to put ice on his cracked ribs, the feisty little Doctor had put up a damn good fight. Sebastian had underestimated him, he should have known better, after all the Doctor was just as well trained as the sniper. The fact that Watson had been injured seriously had no affect on the bastard's ability to throw a punch or accurately land an elbow.

~0~

Jim waited excitedly behind the exit door, easily concealed. He was bursting with energy, he couldn't wait to see Sherlock's face. Oh, it was like Christmas! John had tried to fight but once he noticed the explosives he'd become pretty compliant. Boring.

Really there wasn't anything interesting about the ex army doctor. He was ordinary. Nothing like Sebastian, no, his Sebastian had purpose and a streak of cruelty. Jim had recognized this almost immediately upon meeting the much bigger and stronger accomplice.

When the noises and voices got too loud, Sebastian had always been there to offer his form of comfort. Usually it was helping clean up the mess Jim had made. Really Sebby was such a worrier.

Jim thought of his father, it was amazing what a little bit of drain cleaner mixed with the white powder of coke could do to a man. Then there was that unfortunate explosion in the basement with the meth lab.

Jim hadn't thought of what would happen next, the idiot police had shown up and taken him to a hospital. There some woman asked him questions he refused to answer. The lights and the hands that kept touching were too much, and then they brought him to a place far away in the middle of the night.

He couldn't remember how he got under the table, but he did remember Sebastian. Another non important idiot among the faceless and unmemorable drones.

James was small, and the other kids leered and snickered, Jim knew the look of predators. Hadn't his father the same gleam in his cold eyes? The hands that reached for him, hands that wanted to pull him out from under the table into the vulnerability of the open. Confusion, so much confusion and he fought and bit the hands.

He waited for retaliation but it never came, instead a pair of almost gold eyes, questioning and concerned met his questioning ones. Something Jim couldn't understand, except when his dear Ma had sang to him when he had nightmares. She had the same expression on her face. Then the gold eyed kid with the hunched shoulders offered him a sweet. No one had asked Jim if he was hungry or wanted to eat, he hadn't eaten in days. And here was some candy, offered free, without anything tied to it. This big kid didn't want anything in return.

James found an ally immediately in the bigger boy, he had interesting scars too, James could tell what made them. Sebastian is what they called him but only James could call him Sebby.

The echo of closing metal doors brought him out of his musings. He had made it this far, and Sebastian had proven useful. Time to start the show. Sherlock was the only one that was Moriarty's equal, he'd discovered this when Sherlock tried to stir up an investigation over little pathetic nobody, Carl Powers.

Ever since, James' interest was peeked. That and the infuriating Consulting Detective as he called himself(dull), had foiled several of James' well thought out plans. Not only was he being annoyed by the younger Holmes but the older one had a hit squad out for the Consulting Criminal's blood.

They were just begging for Moriarty to come out and play. So here he was.

Game on.