Sebastian was in a plain boardroom, grey walls, grey table, it was depressing. In the corner was a wilting fern, its sagging branches reaching for the clasp of window craving its own escape. Sebastian could sympathise, he never expected himself to be in this kind of place let alone with a different man for a boss.

His new boss was a Mr Douglas Wilberforce. He was getting close to his forties but if you were to look at him you would guess mid fifties. All the stress of living on the run for so many years has took its toll, along with the amount of scotch that man can drink. Eleven fifteen a.m. seems to be his favourite time. He tries to give off an air of sophistication and mystery, when in reality he stinks of desperation and bitterness. It's pathetic to look at. Everyone in his eyes seem pitiful when compared to the man he used to work for. Yet good money is good money, and in his line of work he can't be too fussy.

"So Seb," he says slowly ignore the glare that came from the man he was speaking to. At first Sebastian was insistent on being called Moran, then when that came to no good he aimed for Sebastian. Since the death of Moriarty he's cut all ties with anything that reminded him of the man he lost, and that includes all different versions of his name. "You target is this man. He's mid thirties, I wan him disposed of." He finished passing over a file.

"How exactly would you like this done? Long distance? Short range? Brutal?" Seb asked flicking through the file with mild interest. He's slightly better than the normal type he gets. The motive is clear behind them, a bad link to his family or his ex wife. At least this one had no clear link to his family for once.

"Brutal." He stated giving him a meaningful look before leaving slamming the door behind him.

Sebastian hailed a taxi while reading the file over once more on the way to his apartment. He gave up a lot after his death, his former colleges, the way he sees work, even Chuck had to be let go. He tried being a friend to him, giving him comforting looks and suggesting coming over to his for dinner so he wasn't alone. He had enough. Seb wasn't an injured puppy, he was a full grown man he could and sill can look after himself.

He gets home and lays the file on his desk, he then starts going through his drawers for his most brutal weapons. He dug through his drawers and paused when he found a silk tie. A Westwood silk tie. He clutched it tight and brought it to his nose, he inhaled and all the smells that made Jim him came flooding back.

The body lay out on the floor, his face staring blankly at the sky. The gun still lightly held in his hand. At first he couldn't think, he didn't believe it was true. That was until he saw him laid out on the roof. The bullet firmly lodged in the back of his throat. Sebastian bent down and gently stroked his face and closed the body's eyes.

He looked at him for a while; he didn't look like he imagined him to. He didn't look peaceful or relaxed like they say they do. He looked determined and ready for his plan to follow through.

"You're a bastard you know," Seb hissed while straightening out Jim's suit. "Having to go and kill yourself. Would losing for once be so bad? Of course it would, look who I'm talking to."

He sighed unsure of what exactly to do; he decided to call up one of his colleges to deal with the body.

He went to leave, and then something drew him back. The tie around his neck, it was a block colour with a simple design. Sebastian remembered buying it for him for Christmas the year they spent in Paris. He had it with him for a week, wondering and wondering if it was to his taste.

He drew it from his neck slowly and folded it up into his pocket. He stroked Jim's forehead before bending down and placing a lingering kiss to his forehead.

"Goodnight Jim," he whispered.

He wiped a tear from his eyes and placed the tie back in the draw. He leaned against it and took the time to gain control of his breathing. It was in the past now, he was never coming back and he is going to have to learn to deal with it. He settled on his weapon which was simple in nature, a cricket bat with a nail through it. It seemed to be one he goes for when it's close range and vicious, it was a way for him to vent out his anger and buried emotions in a controlled way.

The day of his job came; he was instructed to dress casual so he could fit in with his surroundings. He was dressed in slightly loose black jeans and an ordinary hoodie, this was another reason he hated his boss always reminding him of his place, that he was just an employee which until now he didn't know could be done with a dress code.

A sleek black Lamborghini pulled up in the driveway to his apartment, he picked up his bag which had his weapon in it and went to do his job. It went off without a hitch; he got his mark in a dark area of the woods and went at him until he lay dead on the floor. Due to the fact it was early in the park, there wasn't a lot of people around so he could leave the park blood covered and all.

When he got home he realised he didn't have that normal feeling after a successful job, the more he thought about the less Sebastian could think when he had that feeling. Yet he can always remember the first time he ever had that rush.

Sebastian was in his early twenties when a letter came through his door. It was in a simple brown envelope and all that was inside was a letter which read:

Mr Moran, it has come to my attention that you are skilled in hand to hand combat. I am looking for someone with that level of skill; I have a starter job for you so I can establish a good understanding of how good you are.

James Moriarty

Of course Sebastian took up the chance to show of his skills. So the following day he followed the instructions which followed the letter and arrived to this warehouse. When he entered a man in a smart suit stood waiting for him. Sebastian walked out slowly, glancing around him every now and again.

The man was handsome anyone could tell that, his hair swept neatly back and he stood with an aura of power. He told him simply what to do when his target got here and from that he left where he stood and went to a place where he would be hidden but could also see what was going on.

His target came in and the bag was removed from his head. His pale grey eyes tried to plead with Seb to save him from this fate. Seb picked up the weapon by his feet and hit the victim over the head with one sharp blow. Those pleading eyes finally left his and he could get to work without feeling too bad.

Once done the man, James Moriarty, came over to him when the job was done and gripped his shoulder in a pleased way.

"Very good Moran, very good. We'll be in touch soon." James said scanning over the body checking his handy work.

Sebastian felt a rush of pleasure for being able to show what he can do and then be giving praise for it was even better.

Sebastian shook himself from his memories and climbed into the shower. Once showered and changed he headed out to the closet bar he could find, tonight he needed to drown himself from his thoughts.

He awoke in a strange bed, with a strange arm draped across him. The sound of soft snoring thundered beside his ear. He pulled the arm of him and leaned forward, a pounding automatically started behind his eyes, his vision became distorted and a strong sense of nausea flooded all around him. He was never drinking that much again.

He couldn't quite explain what it was that was different. The sex he gets when he wants is good, not fantastic, but good. It's satisfying but not filling. It seems when you've had the dangerous, that part which leaves you guessing whether you were good enough, that part when you're seeking to perform, seeking to show you can take what it gives you and you can meet it is never there when you're who can drop them. He's never thought of himself of a man who liked someone aiming to control him in that way, he's never even thought he was the man who wanted it. And it's only now after the man who provided him all of that has gone he realised that that part of him was inside.

He makes his way home at four in the morning fighting off what memory his brain was trying to conquer up. He has to move on, now matter how hard he pleads, begs or even prays, Jim isn't coming back from the dead. And crying outside in public, even if there is no one around apart from the glow of the lampposts near by is pathetic.

When he finally returns home something feels different, something off putting. It's not a feeling he's familiar with recently. He doesn't bother searching for a gun; he's kept them far away now, since he's no longer working for Jim the price for his head has been washed away. Instead he flicks on a light and slips out of his converse.

He hears mumbling coming from the bedroom and he goes on edge again. He pads quickly over to the door and pushes it over to sees a silhouette he's tried and failed to force out of his mind. His entire body freezes, his mind starts working over time to come to some logical conclusion to why a man that should be dead is standing in his bedroom.

The body turns to reveal an immaculate and clearly alive Jim Moriarty. Dressed head to toe in an immaculate suit, designer of course. Standing there like nothing has happened, that this was just like any other day."Ah Seb you took your time returning home. Now tell me was he good?" Jim says non plus.

"What… What are you doing here?" Seb asked once his voice got round to working again.

"To see you of course, I need some assistance on this plan I've got going." Jim says walking towards him.

Seb stays where he was, his eyes scanning over him to check that this is the man who has supposedly been dead for the last four years. "What makes you think that I want to help you?" He says his eyes drawing like daggers.

"Honey I make your life entertaining," Jim states.

Seb bristles with anger over the use of a pet name. Nobody lies to him, and no one lies to him for years and expects to come back like nothing has ever happened. Not even Moriarty.

"Don't Jim." He practically growls, and pushes roughly past him. "You think you can swan up here in my house. The last time you where here was after that fucking mission for you."

Jim looks at him completely unaffected by the anger that has greeted him. "Didn't you have fun with that? Plus I thought it would be a nice touch showing up again in an intimate setting. Make it more dramatic."

Seb scoffs at him, "yeah you're all about dramatics."

Jim raises an eyebrow at him, "I expected some hostility from you, but you're acting like a wounded housewife Seb."

Finally turning to look at him Seb replied "how did you expect me to react? Run into your arms and follow your orders like nothing happened? You've been gone for four fucking year Jim. Four years! Four years of me seeing your name getting dragged through the mud. Knowing that the man you invested a good part of your life in is meaningless. Seeing people call a man you know a fraud, a fake when you know differently."

"I understand that it would of have been hard for you to find work after that…" Jim started before he was cut of by Sebastian

"Do you really think this is about money? Jim you know I have never cared about that. Work is nothing compared to a bloody body lying on the floor. Do you have any idea what it is to see that? Thinking that a man you… You know what it doesn't matter."

Jim stood there surprised by the uncharacteristic outburst coming from a man who normally was so put together and closed of from revealing any true deep emotion. Here he was revealing something so personally and raw it hurt him to know he was the one who caused it. He closed his eyes for a brief moment letting the words wash over him before replying "why doesn't it matter?"

Seb gave out a hollow laugh "cause when you're so fixated on outdoing Sherlock no one else matters. You never take anyone else's feeling into consideration just beating him. And guess what Jim you still didn't do it."

Sebastian's mention of the truth caused a silent moment between to two men, both trying to figure of something to say. One trying to make amends and justify his actions and the other… Well the other was just trying to continue with the hard exterior he created.

It was Sebastian who was the first one to speak, this time softer "I've got my life sorted and I don't need you Jim. I would appreciate it if you would leave, I've got a meeting with my boss in the afternoon."

Jim just huffed but respected his wishes and left. The minute he heard the front door close, Sebastian let out the shuddering breathe he was holding. How could he be back? It didn't make sense and now he had to decide what was best for him. Continuing with the life he barely had the one that was just a means of getting by and dealing with the mundane? Or returning to the one that constantly left him guessing and filled with adrenaline? And if he did return would that same feeling still be there or would it be tarnished with what has happened, being constantly prepared for when he would disappear?