Moran.

This is a mormor chapter. It is still part of my main Johnlock story line but it's just a chapter which goes into the details of our favourite consulting criminal, and his pet.

Enjoy, and please review!:)

Sebastian heard Jim's footsteps before he heard his voice shouting 'SEBBY!'

He sighed. His boss only called him that when he wanted something or if he was bored. He counted to five before finally answering 'yeah, boss?'

Jim skipped into the bedroom, and crawled across the bed to reach the weary man. He leaned against the bed frame, and slowly rested his feet against Sebastian; one foot against his lightly protruding hip bone, and the other against his thigh.

Before Sebastian could protest, Jim pushed with all his might, rolling him out of the bed and onto the cold wooden floor with a heavy thump and a loud groan.

'fuck' he muttered, pulling himself up and glaring at the small man who was now sitting cross legged on the large bed, seemingly humming 'staying alive' of all things, to himself.

'Rise and shine, Sebby' he sang, jumping out of the bed with surprising elegance.

'Jim what the fuck happened to waking me up with coffee in the mornings?' He would usually be more wary of talking to his boss in this way, but he was in far too bad of a mood to care what happened, even when challenged with the most dangerous man in the world.

That had been the deal when Sebastian had agreed to move in…the only promise from Jim.

'I promise I will wake you up to the smell of fresh coffee, or not at all'.

'I'm booooorreeedddd' Jim sighed, straightening out his newest Westwood suit, brushing off the invisible flecks which were seemingly frustrating him.

Seb couldn't blame him. Since he had driven Sherlock to a fake suicide, he'd had to keep a low profile, resulting in his never leaving the flat 97% of the time.

'They got married, Seb. How disgustingly ordinary.'

He'd been wandering the room, stopping to turn on the screens which currently showed the inside rooms of 221B Baker Street. 'They're going on their honeymoon in a week'.

Seb knew Jim wasn't being relatively nice without a reason. He sighed, folding his legs underneath him, and waited for the catch.

'And so this is the perfect time for us to…spend quality time together'.

Seb blinked. 'You what?'

Jim rolled his eyes giving his best 'long suffering' look. 'It's not hard, tiger. I haven't seen you very much for a while, and I won't be distracted. Which is a first for a long time'.

Now Jim and Seb weren't dating, that was for sure. Seb admitted to himself that he loved Jim, in a way that was almost indescribable. Almost.

He loved him in a way that he knew if Jim died, he would follow, without a single look back or farewell. He loved him, even though he was the most dangerous man in the world. Because he was, even. The adrenaline of not knowing his temperament, his moods, only attracted Seb more.

Jim was unreliable. Months would be spent when he wouldn't get any sort of response out of him, other than the simple 'yes' or 'no and occasionally, the 'now fuck off'. He got annoyed at the smallest of things; when Sebastian smoked, when he put his feet on the coffee table, when he wore the wrong tie. All of these things could put him in a situation where Jim would fly into a mood so foul, it usually resulted in the blowing up of a building, or the murder of whoever unfortunate enough to be walking along the street below them at the time.

But Seb didn't want to change Jim for anything.

Because there were these…these moments. When Jim would look at Seb, and finally allow him past his solid shell of an exterior.

And oh how Seb lived for those moments.

He understood, however, that in reality, these genuine feelings were one-sided – Jim fucked him because he was bored, he kissed him when he didn't have anything else to do.

'Are you…sure?' he asked, narrowing his eyes, waiting for the line 'kidding!' of 'I'm joking, you prick'.

It didn't come.

Until at least, Jim looked up from the security cameras, and whispered 'but first, there's a lovely person I need you to get rid of. Goes by the name of Tom. Details in the case. Car's waiting outside. Don't be long.'

When Seb arrived back home 6 hours later, he tried to sneak in; he was covered in blood, his expensive suit in shreds. His attempts were to no avail.

'Seb?' Jim's voice called.

'Yeah, boss'. He replied, shuffling out of what was left of his jacket.

He walked into the bedroom, in dire need of a shower when he found Jim standing, waiting, already relatively...aroused.

'I said don't. be. long' he moaned, walking up to Seb, and looking up through his eyelashes into the taller man's eyes.

'Jim. I need a shower' he gulped, just the sight of Jim needing him going straight to his quickly growing erection. 'You look hot, don't ruin it' Jim whispered, leaning forward to slowly unbutton Seb's shirt.

He shoved Jim onto the bed, forcing their mouths together as they continued to undress.

Seb thrusted against Jim, earning him a moan which came before his lover had the chance to try and hide it. 'Fuck, Jim' he groaned, holding him down by the throat, no response allowed.

He sighed at the allowance to dominate Jim, the only time it was ever suitable.

Jim tried to say something as they rubbed against each other, but Seb only pressed harder against his jugular.

He was about to continue, when he turned to reach for the bottle of lube in the side-draw.

Momentarily distracted, Jim took the chance and kicked his kneecap, quickly swivelling and landing on top of Seb. He felt the cold from a gun barrel now pressed against his chest, spread through him. 'Remember your place, Sebby' Jim smiled, clicking the safety off.

Jim knew that physically he was no match for Seb, but in every other way, he was superior.

Seb nodded, and before anything could be said, Jim had lowered himself onto him without preparation, his mouth parting, forming a gasp as he accepted all Seb had to give.