Title: Target down [PG]
Author: Foxy Badger
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Pairing: Implied!Moriarty/Moran
Genre: slash, romance, friendship
Summary: Sebastian is left to clean up the mess after Jim ends his life.
Disclaimer: Story is mine. James Moriarty and Sebastian Moran belong to Sir Conan Doyle. BBC Sherlock to the BBC. No profit made. Just for fun.

He lowered his rifle and started to disassemble it slowly, putting every part carefully back into the bag, the gunshot still ringing through his ears – but he hadn't pulled the trigger. He was glad he hadn't had to shoot; shooting a fellow soldier was against their oath. But it had come at a price: Holmes was dead – and so was Jim.

He walked down the stairs and took a key from his pocket. He entered the changing rooms and opened a locker with number 1891. An envelope lay in it and he picked it up, stuffing it in his inside pocket. He laid the bag inside the locker and locked it again. As he made his way out of the building, he dropped the keys down a drain.

He crossed the street, mixing with the spectators that had formed around the place Holmes had fallen. His body had been brought indoors already, but Sebastian's target, John Watson, was still there.

Confused. In shock. Devastated.

Sebastian knew how he felt.

He gave Watson one last look before he pushed past the bystanders and entered the building. He pushed the fire escape doors open and went up the stairs, all the way up to the roof.

When he opened the door, he knew enough. Jim had done it.

He stepped closer, looking down at the trail of blood coming from Jim's head, an odd maniac smile on his face. But Sebastian couldn't laugh about it at all.

He sighed and took his phone from his jacket, speed dialling a number and holding the phone to his ear as his eyes found Jim's grinning face again.

'Holmes is down. So is Moriarty. All payments have been made. Send someone to pick him up. Roof of St. Bart's,' and he hung up again, pocketing his phone again.

He crouched and checked Jim's pockets, taking his phone out in case the wrong people would find him first. He would leave the gun to pour some salt into the Holmes' wounds. Tomorrow, the news would say how Sherlock Holmes had driven Richard Brook to madness and both men had killed themselves.

He found the phone in Jim's inside pocket, but he was surprised to see the phone was still on. He tapped the screen with his thumb and a message popped up. Sebastian read it.

'Bastard,' Sebastian spat at the dead body, ready to toss the phone away. But he couldn't. People would find it. He had to take it with him. He tried to delete the message but it wouldn't disappear. Had the phone froze? Or had Jim hacked it... whatever he tried, the only way to have the message disappear would be to remove the battery from the device. But he left it on. He pocketed the phone and after one more look at Jim's face, he took the stairs down again.

Half an hour later, he reached home: a squat near the Thames. He had been staying here for over a year now. No one disturbed him here. He didn't want to be found; he was a deserter after all. Only Jim had known how to find him.

He took the envelope from his pocket and dropped it on the table. He didn't even want to count it. No payment would satisfy him now; he'd rather be broke and still have Jim around.

He remembered the phone and took it from his pocket, staring down at the message. Would he wait? Until the battery died? What the hell was he going to do with it? He couldn't delete the contents on the memory card now so he couldn't just chuck it away.

Tie it to a rock and throw it in the river? He snorted. Jim wanted him to keep this. Why else would he tamper with it?

So he sighed and went over to the mattress in the corner of the room. He fished Jim's charger from between the sheets and took it to the socket and plugged it in.



It was still charging.

He shook his head in disbelief and sighed.

'Bastard,' he muttered again and laid the phone down on a stool. He turned away and pulled off his jacket, dropping it over the back of a chair. His shirt came off next and he kicked his shoes off as he made his way over to his shabby shower stall. He knew he had enough money to buy a new identity now; but this place held so many memories that he would not leave it. Once he had cared about the money; but he didn't anymore. All he wanted was to have Jim back in his bed.

While he washed his hair, the phone continued to charge.



Its message still burnt into the screen:

Don't weep my love. You shall be invisible now. Keep me in your heart.



Jim had left him a bloody suicide note, while they had agreed on no goodbyes. And therefore, Sebastian wept while he showered.

Please take time to leave a review about the story, my writing style and in-character canon. Please do keep in mind English is not my first language. Lisa betas my stories and I'm very thankful for that!