Title: The Marksman and the Consulting Criminal [PG]
Author: Foxy Badger
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Pairing: Jim/Sebastian
Genre: slash, romance
Summary: Sebastian doesn't agree with Jim's plans to bring down Sherlock Holmes.
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.


'Move your foot, will you,' Sebastian complained as he shifted awkwardly, accidentally causing some water to slash over the edge of the bathtub they were sitting in.

'If I want to put my foot there, I will Sebastian,' Jim said as he wiggled his toes. Sebastian went hard at once. 'I'm paying you so I can put my foot there.'

'Fuck you, Jim,' Sebastian cursed as he lit a cigarette, pretending to ignore Jim's foot against his groin. He tossed the Zippo lighter back on the small chair that stood beside the bath. A pack of cigarettes and two glasses with Scotch stood on it. 'If you actually paid me I could have bought a bigger tub.'

'You're not complaining, are you?' Jim asked as he started to stroke Sebastian's leg that lay on the side of the bath. 'Do you want a raise?'

'I don't want a bloody raise,' Sebastian grumbled as he took the cigarette between his fingers. 'You know very well what I want.'

'But we're doing so well,' Jim squeezed his big toe. 'Sherlock on the run. John Watson confused. Kitty in my pocket,' he paused and moved Sebastian's foot to his collarbone, kissing his big toe. 'And you by my side,' he continued and took Sebastian's toe in his mouth.'

'Get off,' Sebastian said as he gave a little jerk with his foot, again splashing water over the edge. 'I don't care about your bloody games anymore.'

'The plans have been made. The trap has been laid. All we need to do is wait.'

'Fuck you,' Sebastian spat and kicked, water splashing into Jim's face. He pulled his legs back and stood up, ready to leave the bath.

But Jim's hand clasped around his wrist.

'Get back in the bath, Seb.'

'No, I—'

'Sit. Down.'

Sebastian obeyed; he hadn't been paid yet.

He sat down and Jim moved forward onto his lap, straddling him, their cocks touching. He took Sebastian's face between his hands and shook his head.

'Tsk, tsk, tsk,' he spoke and brought his face closer. 'You know what happens if you don't do what I say.'

Sebastian stared at him, a deep frown on his face. He knew what would happen; he wouldn't get paid. And there was quite a big sum of money waiting for him once this was over.

'I don't care about the money, Jim,' he growled back. 'And you don't pay me to be yours.'

'That is true – but I do pay you to kill those I want to see dead.'

'John Watson?'

'No, no,' Jim shook his head again. 'John will live and Sherlock will die.'

'And – so will you.'

'And so will I,' he rhymed again and the corner of his lip curled. He brought his face closer and gently brushed his lips against Sebastian's.

But Sebastian pulled his head back.

'What if I kill John Watson first?'

'That's not the plan, Sebastian. Sherlock needs to kill himself. I want to break him.'

'And what good will it do to kill yourself?' Sebastian snapped at him. 'You dead, Holmes dead. What good will it bring Jim?'

'The game Sebastian,' Jim whispered at him. 'I will win it, and Sherlock will die.'

'Jesus, Jim,' Sebastian swore again and turned his face away. 'Just to satisfy your sick pleasure?'

'Yes,' Jim replied and forced Sebastian to look at him again. 'It is my pleasure to see people dance.'

Sebastian sighed, averted his eyes and shook his head in disagreement. He didn't want this to happen. Not like this. Why couldn't he just kill Holmes and be done with it? Why would he have to die too?

'To ensure that he will do it,' Jim had spoken the first time he had explained his plans to Sebastian. 'If I'm dead, he will have no choice but to kill himself too. Unless he wants to see everyone else die.'

'Let the others die!' Sebastian had shouted at him, kicking a chair over in his rage. 'Anyone. But not you!'

Jim was never going to reason with him, Sebastian had known then. He was a man of his word once he had formed a plan. He wasn't going to change it that easily.

'Do I really have no choice in this?' Sebastian asked as he looked back at Jim.

'Not at all,' Jim assured him. 'But you will be paid, like our contract states. Isn't that all you want?'

'I don't want the bloody money,' he hissed at him. 'I don't care about the fucking contract! I don't want you to die!'

'Are you getting all sentimental again, Sebastian?'

'I will if it will help you decide to stop this!' Sebastian spat at him.

'Seb, I wo—'

'Just stop this, Jim,' Sebastian said as he sat up and now took Jim's face between his hands as well. 'Just stop this— please. For me. For us. Let's get away from Britain. Away from Holmes.'

'No, no, no, no,' Jim closed his eyes and shook his head. 'Please, don't be boring, Seb,' he opened his eyes again, pleading for him not to become dull as well. 'We're not boring, Seb.'

'You'd rather be dead than boring?'

'Oh, definitely.'

'You'd rather be dead than with me?'

Jim didn't seem to have a witty answer this time.

'Every contract comes to an end eventually, Sebastian Moran,' Jim reminded him.

'I certainly hope I'm not just a contract to you.'

Jim smirked and chortled.

'You are everything to me, Sebastian Moran,' Jim spoke as he came closer again. 'You are the world to me.'

'Then why—'

'There is no 'why', only the plans. Sherlock Holmes must die. And so will I.'


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