Title: Faith Comes in Moments

Chapter One : I Got You

AN: So hopefully some of you will like this. I wrote it in a bit of a rush in my science class and did my best to revise and edit when I typed it so keep in mind that it is un-beta'd. I'm sorry in advance for any errors. This is my first foray into MorMor fanfiction, however I've been a fan of the pairing since I started watching Sherlock. I'm thinking of continuing this and if I do it'll probably just be random moments leading up to, during, and after Reichenbach, although this chapter is set a month or two before Reichenbach. Also, just to put this out there, I have a Seb RP blog on tumblr (.com) and I'm looking for a Jim to come play with me. If you're interested let me know! If not, just read the fic and hopefully you'll enjoy it!

Our faith comes is moments; our vice is habitual - Ralph Waldo Emerson


The warehouse was empty, the night was cloudless, and the job was going well. All in all, Sebastian Moran was having a great night; an ideal night, even. He was overseeing in the torture of one of their German allies who'd turned traitor. The poor man was already crying and they'd only been at it for two hours. They'd only torn off two of his fingernails; mere foreplay. Sebastian smiled at the thought of what he'd had planned for the main event.

"Please! I don't know who the boss sold his share to. He doesn't tell me anything," the man's eyes were wild as he begged, panting.

"I'm just a lackey."

Sebastian knew he wasn't just a lackey. The man had been the one to meet then and give them their money. No criminal with half a mind would just give that job to a lackey. He remembered the night it happened. They'd made the German wait while they counted the money in the suitcase but the idiot had gone for his gun and a shoot out between the Germans and Jim's crew had ensued.

Sebastian had taken a hit in the leg when he dove to cover Jim and wrestled him out to the car. As if that hadn't been bad enough, he'd lost three of his best men that night. Two of which had been family men whose wives had no idea who their husbands worked for. The third had only been twenty but was a crack shot. However, that wasn't why he was mad.

Sebastian took pride in who he hired for Jim. He enjoyed being in charge of a unit, no matter what the circumstances, and building trust between himself and the men he was in charge of was a big part of that. When his boys took a hit, he took it personally.

Plus, Jim had thrown a fit and holed himself up in his computer room for days, trying to figure out the best revenge, and for that more than anything the German bastard would pay.

He watched coolly as one of his guys punched the man and his lip twitched as the crack of the nose breaking echoed around the empty warehouse. He started crying and Sebastian lit a cigarette, motioning for his boys to back off. He sucked on the filter, relishing the taste of paper and nicotine floating in his mouth. He knew Jim would be mad at him for smoking but his leg hurt and he deserved it. Besides, if Jim was actually mad about it and not just being dramatic, which wasn't rare, he'd cheerily remind him that he could put a bullet in his thigh and see if he felt like a cigarette after, too. Although knowing Jim, he'd consider a bullet graze in the thigh an aphrodisiac. Sebastian blinked as his eyes glazed over at the though and flicked some ash off his cigarette, kicking it towards the German.

He heaved himself off of the crate he was leaning on for support and walked towards the man tied to the chair, hating himself for limping. He positioned himself directly in front of him.

"Look at me." His voice was low and calm, even toned, but the man continued snivelling at the floor. He waited a moment, the kicked the chair leg hard. The chair rocked back for a second and the German looked panicked, thinking he was going to fall over, before it righted itself again.

"I said, look at me." The man complied.

"There, that's better," he gave a tight lipped smile but quickly became impassive again, aware of the cold steel he could produce in his eyes. It was one of Jim's favorite things about him.

"Now, we could do one of two things at this point," he said earnestly, "you could let us know where your boss is hiding and where our share of the profit is and we'll leave right now and let your boss find you and kill you himself, barring the fact that we'll probably get to him first. Or," he paused and walked over to the tray of utensils beside the chair and picked up a pair of gardening shears, "we find out just how long it takes to cut off one of your hands with these." The bound man whimpered and the men behind Sebastian snickered.

"Your choice," he added and raised an eyebrow expectantly.

"P-please, I have a family."

"Don't bother lying."

"No, please," he raised his tear and blood stained face to meet Sebastian's eyes full on.

"I do. Please, you must know that's like."

"Do I?" Sebastian asked, feigning interest. He motioned for two of his strongest men to come over and hold the man's arms down so he could start getting the shears around the man's wrist.

"Please!" he shrieked, really fighting and panicking now, "everyone you deal with knows about you and your boss." Sebastian paused. His jaw clenched, eyes closed. He could sense the shift in the emotions of his men. Shock first, not about him and Jim, but that the pathetic man in front of them actually had balls enough to say something about it. Then another second ticks by and they're uncomfortable, averting their eyes. The silence is chilling because Sebastian knows they're waiting for him to say something; to deny it. He takes a deep breath and opens his eyes. The man is white as a sheet but looking hopeful about what he perceives to be borrowed time.

"What about us?" Sebastian's voice is still low, but he's barely able to keep the snarling venom out of it. The man gives a relieved pant and tries for a cocky smile, as if he has the upper hand now.

"That you and Moriarty are," he searches for the right word, "fucking." He spits it out and laughs.

At that moment Sebastian's phone goes off and the warehouse echoes with the sounds of Sonny Bono and Cher singing, "I Got You Babe." The German laughs again, his face lighting up with what the inexperienced person would call glee. Sebastian knows it's hysteria.

"I knew it! That's him calling too, isn't it?" Sebastian smiles and laughs, looking around at his men. They all look unsure. Finally one of them laughs with Sebastian and the rest follow, the song still playing and the gravity of the situation momentarily forgotten.

Sebastian stops laughing abruptly and pushes down on the shears with a grunt. The man's hand falls to the floor and he screams. The men stop laughing and go pale. Sebastian glares at them all until they look to the floor, his position as their head back in place.

"Clean this up, would you?" he says and they scramble to obey. He answers his phone.

"Finally, I was starting to think you'd never pick up," Jim's grumps from the other line but Sebastian can hear the lilt behind it, meaning he's not really angry, "I was starting to get worried."

"No, you weren't."

"No, I really wasn't," Jim giggles for a moment and Seb can hear him typing. He knows that he's sitting at his desk with four computer screens up, in his pyjamas with one leg tucked under him, and the cell phone cradled between his neck and shoulder. It was his typical multitasking position.

"Soo," Jim sing songs, "how's the job going? Has he spoken yet?"

"Not quite," Sebastian hedges, reluctant to say he's been unsuccessful.

"How many hands does he got left, then?"

"As of the moment you called and any respect my men had for me flew out the window, one," he said through clenched teeth. Jim hums.

"Yes, how do you like your new ringtone?"

"It's Sonny and Cher for Christ's sake. What do you think?" he mutters as he lights another cigarette.

"I think you'd better drop that fucking lighter and not smoke in the suits I buy you before I come over there and make you all into furniture."

"How did you - ?"

"Top left corner of the room." Sebastian glances over and sees the camera. He curses and puts out the cigarette, stashing the lighter in his pocket. He should have known.

"Now you listen to me," Jim's voice lowers and is no longer lilting and pleasant, "I don't need that information anymore but I do need to make sure our little sauerkraut kids know just who they're dealing with. Is that clear, Sebastian darling?" Jim purrs the last two words and Seb rolls his eyes.


"Perfect. Bye, now."

The line goes dead and Sebastian puts his phone away. He tries to remember that Jim is actually the best thing that's ever happened to him, but he's too frustrated right now to recall why.

He turns around to see that the boys are almost done cleaning up but the German is still in his chair moaning pitifully about his hand. He takes out his knife and sighs as he walks up to the man. He takes a second to compose himself before grabbing the man by his hair, opening his mouth and cutting out his tongue. He hears one of the new recruits retching behind him but doesn't stop. He goes about mutilating the man then, finally stabbing him, pushing his knife into his eye socket until he stops moving.

Sebastian steps back and pushes his hair out of his eyes, the blood from his leather gloves working with the gel he'd put in this morning to slick it back in place. He rolls his shoulders and takes a deep breath.

"Now," he turns towards his men on his heel and they watch him with wide eyes. A few have their mouths hanging open dumbly.

"Anyone else care to say anything about my love life?" He is calm now as he surveys them. They avert their eyes and shake their heads. Someone mutters a quiet, "no, sir." He nods.

"Get the car, then. We're done here."