Summary:

Even the most dangerous pair in London have chores. And no, of course they're not domestic in any way. Sort of. It involved murder. Yes, definitely involves murder. A take on Moriarty-Moran fluff. Gen, but squintable.

A/N:

So if anyone remembers my 'Domestic Chores' story, the one with the ghastly John-Sherlock plat fluff, this is the MorMor version of it. So one wonders - what kind of 'chores' does the two do, and... well... Fluff? /MorMor/ Fluff? We're talking about Moriarty and Moran here, right? How could there be fluff? This is very squintable platonic fluff. Really, seriously, it isn't as horrible as it sounds. Just read it. Really. It's still them and... Swear, murder, with psychopathic children mixed in. Should be fun, eh? Anyway, on with the story. Have fun!


Contrary to popular belief, Sebastian Moran and Jim Moriarty's flat is pristine and entirely blood free. Jim never did like bringing home his work too much, and all blood-soaked clothes were burned in a specially made furnace somewhere in a dodgy part of London.

So when Sebastian went home to find the flat wrecked, blood-soaked clothes everywhere, kitchen a mess of leftover food (one had something purple and hairy growing from it like grass - what in the world) and dishes and pots and pans, and the bathroom flooded with water, his instinct was to pull out his FN Five-seven and check the perimeter.

He thought they were ransacked in the night, and his mind was spouting out oaths and swears hoping to god that nothing happened to his boss.

Well, something happened to his boss, clearly.

He spotted Jim lying upside-down on the couch, feet up on the headrest and head hanging off the seat. He was wearing a white shirt spotted with blood and nothing more, and Sebastian sighed, shook his head and massaged his temples.

So it was that sort of day again.

"Sebby." The man said in greeting. His white shirt shifted as he rolled over. "Good morning."

Sebastian ignored the nickname in lieu of looking the flat over once more. "Boss, did someone break in last night and decide to strategically wreck the flat?"

"No. It's just me." Jim said with a huge smile, flopping off the couch in one move. He glanced around the flat. "I made such a big mess last night, didn't I?"

"And why, exactly, did you?" Sebastian sighed, and walked to the fridge. Maybe there was still something he could salvage in there or something. He had a strong stomach - MREs and other rations he'd scraped up from somewhere during his service helped a lot, and the local cuisine in India and Afghanistan, when left with no other choice, actually agreed with his constitution.

But even in this carnage, there was nothing to be salvaged, and his stomach growled mournfully. Sebastian sighed, picked up a milk carton and checked the date. Expired. Oh, of course it is.

"You were away, and I was bored."

The sour milk sloshed around as Sebastian waved the carton at Jim. He grimaced and tossed it into the sink. "You sent me away on that job, boss. You could have called me back."

"Eh." Jim stood up, and wrapped himself around Sebastian. "I need a hug, 'Bastian."

Sebastian looked over his shoulder at Jim. "...are you high?" He grimaced. "And before hugging me, Jim, mind if you put on some pants?"

"Why, do I make you uncomfortable?"

"No." Sebastian said a little too quickly, and Jim laughed. Jim conjured up a pair of discarded boxers from somewhere, and tugged them on.

"Happy, tiger?"

"Yes. No. Stop calling me that."

"As you wish, dear pet."

God, pet names. It was that sort of day too, then. After a year of serving Jim Moriarty, Sebastian should be more used to them by now, but they still made him cringe. Sebastian was his name, god, not Seb, Sebby, Bastian, Tiger, Pet, Sweetheart, etc.

There are just days when he wants to sew Jim's mouth shut, never mind that Sebastian might get skinned in the process.

Sebastian finally found an overripe banana in a cupboard somewhere and an MRE pack, and he tore into both happily.

Jim watched him with vague interest, his head cocked to one side. Sebastian sighed. "Yes, yes, I'm so ordinary, I know - but I doneed food, Jim, even if you don't. We need to go get groceries."

"Boring."

"You could always blow Tesco up, afterwards."

Jim rolled his eyes. "Don't try, Seb. Why would I want to do that?"

"Because you're bored."

"Right." Jim smiled patronisingly at him. "No."

"Then don't." Sebastian finished his breakfast with one last bite from his pack. He surveyed the mess again, grimacing as he did. "We need to clean the flat."

And here Sebastian thought he would never see Jim look horrified, ever, in his life.

"Speed dial nine." Jim said, tossing Sebastian his phone. "I am notcleaning anything."

Sebastian caught Jim's phone with a grin. "What, no Jim, we are cleaning the flat."

"Make me."

"Do you really want me to try?" Sebastian asked. His eyes glinted dangerously, but he was grinning widely. "Because I will, and I can."

Jim shrugged. "Of course you can. No, nine is one of my cleaners. Eight is housekeeping." Jim corrected. "And hurry up will you, Sebastian? Meet me in my office. We have a job, and I want to watch."


Sebastian had tidied up a tiny bit for the housekeeper's arrival (which he stopped after a few minutes, because what was the point of calling housekeeping if you're going to tidy up anyway? Jim was right. Sometimes he did act so ordinary) when Jim hollered for him to come in the office already with threats of being literallyfired over the hot furnace in one of the incinerators they use.

For a split second, Sebastian almost scrambled to his feet and ran to Jim's office, but he stopped himself. The man could wait.

Jim would neverdo that, not to him, anyway. There was no one better than him at what he does that Jim could get, and he knew he meant more to Jim than just an employee and a bodyguard.

For one, he was sharing a flat with the insufferable man, and he'd seen Jim at his best and worst, outside of his armour of Westwood suits. Jim would never let just anyonesee him like that.

Two, he'd offer his life in exchange for Jim's in a heartbeat, and such loyalty and devotion Jim would never get from anyone else. Besides, Sebastian cared for Jim, and Jim cared for him, more than they both let on. The one time Sebastian got shot and almost compromised the job, Jim cancelled the whole operation and took Sebastian to a private A&E he always had waiting. Then there was this one time Sebastian took a bullet for Jim in the chest. He wore a body armour then, but he would have jumped in front of Jim anyway, even if he wasn't.

They always told each other that the job always came first. What utter bullshit.

He made Jim wait for thirty minutes, picking up the bloody clothes and tossing them into a special bin for those sort of stains, and actually lounging around in the living room for a few minutes just to get a rise out of his boss.

It was supposed to be his day-off today anyway.

"Yes, sir? You called?" Sebastian greeted rather cheekily, with a huge smile pasted on his face.

Jim tossed a rubber ball at him, and before it hit him between the eyes he caught it with a hand. "Show off." Jim said, and gestured for Sebastian to sit down.

"What do you have for me, boss?"

"I have something very special in mind for today." Jim said, leaning over his table, short of climbing over it.

Sebastian frowned. As much as he liked special jobs, he actually just wanted today all to himself, maybe go out on a date with that person he asked out last week in the pub. Was that really too much to ask? "Jim, I was actually hoping for my day off to be an actual day off this time? No more inviting me to dances today, I don't think I can be your dance partner like the last timewe had a job during my holiday. Besides, I have a date tonight."

"A date?" Jim raised an eyebrow. "With someone outsideof our organisation?"

"Yes." Sebastian blinked at him. "Is it reallythat much of a surprise?"

Jim shrugged, and leaned back in his chair. "No, but I was hoping we could go out and do things together today."

"Things. That we will enjoy." Sebastian said, incredulity seeping through his words.

Jim stood up, and pointed happily at Sebastian. "Yes, we're doing things that two people will enjoy!"

"...what, like a date?"

"Why not? We're consenting adults, aren't we?" Jim was grinning now.

Honestly, there were days when their weird arrangement turned tables for the weird, and Sebastian wasn't sure where the line between boss, friend, and everything else were anymore. Especially when they started talking like this.

What exactly were they doing?

"...do I get a kiss good night before going into my flat?" Sebastian parried with a roll of his eyes.

Jim's grin widened. "I'll give you a proper snog too, if you want."

Sebastian paused. He wasn't entirely sure what was going on anymore. "...that's just odd, Jim."

"Is it? Is it really?" Jim leaned over more, and was now sprawled on his desk, his face uncomfortably near Sebastian's.

Sebastian didn't flinch, of course. He merely showed Jim his teeth, and rolled his eyes. "All right, enough. Please."

Jim laughed, and got back in his chair. He pulled out a piece of lined blue-red-blue paper, like the ones school children used, and handed it over to Sebastian.

"What do you make of this, Seb?"

Sebastian ran his eyes over the carefully pencilled words, and raised an eyebrow at Jim. "Are we really going to do this?"

"It should prove to be interesting."

The letter, written in a school child's painstaking joined-up writing, went like this:

Dear Mr Jim Moriarty,

You might be wondering how I got your address. I didn't. I sent this in the post like how I do to Father Christmas and just hoped that you'll get it. If you do get it maybe you should kill the post office people. Anyway my mum's new boyfriend is a jerk and an arse and may you please fix it for me? You fix people's problems, yeah? I heard your really good at it. Maybe kill him or something, but please don't let my mum know its me or you and I don't want her to go to prison. Can you wack (I don't know how to spell it) him quietly and make him go sleep with the fishes like in that mafia movie? He hurts my mum. His name is Edward Jacobs from Margaret Street

PS: I want to be like you someday I think you're awesome. I was thinking of doing the thing with Carl Powers to a bully.

-Tony, age 7-to-be-8-soon

"Ha, a child after your own heart, Jim." Sebastian grinned. "Maybe we should steal him and raise him ourselves."

"Don't be ridiculous, Seb, you cannot teach a child to shoot a rifle."

"The earlier you start, the better." Sebastian said. "This could be interesting, boss. How do we do it?"


Sebastian had been with Jim for more than a year now, and still he hasn't completely unpeeled every facet to his boss.

Who knew Jim had a soft spot for murderous and frankly, quite creepy, children?

Tony, as the child called himself, wanted to be just like Jim. Sebastian wasn't sure if it was endearing or just plain disturbing.

Jim, though, found it very adorable and was going to humour the child by offing the mum's boyfriend.

He still wasn't sure if that was supposed to be endearing or plainly psychotic. Probably both.

Sebastian was sure they were burning in a special spot of hell for pushing a child in this direction.

The plan was simple. Wound Edward just enough to bleed enough to get the sharks' attention, and push him in the shark tank. It was an accident, they'll say. Edward Jacobs was drunk and shouldn't have gone in for work. He accidentally fell in after he fed the sharks, and the ensuing feeding frenzy ensured that he was going to die.

Accidents happen. A lot.

Except this wasn't one.

Sebastian and Jim were verygood at arranging accidents. It's a living.

The first thing they had to do was survey the aquarium. Jim dressed like a human being that day, as 'Richard Brook', and didn't look much like the untouchable Jim Moriarty that Sebastian was used to. He had a white t-shirt on, and a leather jacket that looked familiar to Sebastian until he realised whose it was.

"That's my jacket." Sebastian said, a little dumbly, as he eyed Jim. Jim took his most comfortable jacket, and although it looked a little big on him, it actually workedfor the man. That wasn't fair. Sebastian always looked horrible in ill-fitting clothes.

Jim waved a hand at him. "Oh greatobservation, Sebastian. Have you been taking lessons from Sherlock?"

Sebastian huffed. "Give it back. It's comfortable and I want to use it."

"Wear that military-looking one." Jim said, tossing Sebastian the jacket he was talking about. "Need yours. I need to look like everyone else."

"And what's wrong with your clothes, and how does wearing a leather jacket help?"

"Westwood, Sebby." Jim said in not-very-helpful explanation. "We're taking your bike."

"No, you need to remain obscure - " Sebastian started, going for his mobile to phone for an armoured car.

They received death threats from a rival a few days ago. Although Sebastian could spot suspicious activity a mile away, he still wasn't comfortable with letting Jim just prance around London without extra protection. The man was a danger magnet.

Never mind that he was the one who usually instigated said danger.

He was supposed to carry out a hit to end the competition last week, but Jim sent him to Australia on an important job that 'only his most trusted man could handle'. As good as the accompanying mini-holiday was, Sebastian still needed to get around to killing the other man.

Jim is never safe with this competitor around. He is too brave for his own good, this one. Thinks he's invincible. Needs to be dispatched.

"I'm notJim Moriarty today, Sebastian." The man smiled something which was a cross between sweet and predatory. "I'm Richard Brook. Now come on, Mr Brook, we're going to the aquarium."

"Jim, I don't quite recall saying yes to that date you were proposing."

"Oh, you know you can't resist me."


A few children recognised Jim from his little stint in The Storyteller, and Richard Brook had to sign a few things before they headed into the aquarium.

"I like children." Jim said with a smile a little too creepily for a man who supposedly told children's stories for a living. He waved at the children as they left. "They make for really good alibis."

Sebastian snorted. "They don't. They're annoying little brats who ask too many questions and won't shut up."

"Where do you think we should go first? Should we take a tour, or would you rather get on with the job? I want to see all the exhibits, especially the tank full of jellyfish. Are we going to get ice cream afterwards?"

"Shut up, Jim."

Jim smirked at him, and pranced towards the 'employees only' entrance. "Let's see who's feeding the fish tomorrow, first. We'll get enough time to have a tour after we take care of the roster. It won't take long."

"Yes, because I cannot waitto see rainbow fish darting around in a glass box." Sebastian snorted, following Jim as he ducked under the rope divider and the sign. "Let's just get out of here afterwards. I want to get a drink."

"It's ten in the morning."

"And your point is?" Sebastian followed Jim as he made his way to the inner offices, nodding to a passing employee. They walked with purpose, and no one questioned the authority exuding from Jim, even if he didn't look like he belonged in an office. He looked more like he belonged on the catwalk, despite the five-year-old-size-too-big jacket he was wearing.

Don't ask how he figured out the catwalk bit.

Jim watched far too many fashion-related shows on the telly. No, Sebastian didn't know why, either.

Must be related to the whole fascination with designer clothes.

Jim sighed. "I cannot take you anywhere."

"It's not like I can take youanywhere. The last time I took you out on one of the jobs - "

"You are never going to let that one go, aren't you?"

Sebastian huffed. "I still don't know how you managed to bring down an entire building like that. I didn't even hear an explosion. What are you now, the god of demolition?" It had been rather a bit of a shock when the man he was eyeing through the window was suddenly covered with a huge block of concrete and stone, followed by a rain of glass and steel. Sebastian stepped back a bit from his scope and abruptly noticed that the whole building was just… gone, and was now a pile of rubble on the London pavement with a whole crowd gathered around it.

Jim grinned at him, his eyes shining with some well-kept secret. "At least you didn't have to waste a bullet on that one. The building was horribly ugly, anyway."

They managed to reach the computer they were aiming for. Jim handed over a small wad of cash to a bored-looking bloke, who quickly took a 'break' when Jim whispered something into his ear.

Sebastian took watch as Jim hacked into the mainframe and changed the roster listing, having Edward Jacobs feed the sharks the next day.

"That was easier than having you collect signatures, Sebastian." Jim said.

Sebastian glared at the other man, following him out of the office. "We are never going to Disneyland again, Jim."

The other man simply gave Sebastian a chilling smile, accompanied by a hand on Sebastian's shoulder. "I promise that I won't ask you to shoot a cartoon character ever again."


They returned the next day, and Jim took Sebastian around the aquarium before the shark feeding. Jim gawked at the fishes, doing a really good job at pretending to be an interested tourist. For all Sebastian knew, he actually was interested, but some days, he just couldn't read Jim at all.

Especially if he was distracted by glass boxes. Memories could be cruel.

"I'm your assassin, Jim, not a tour guide."

"And your point is?"

"I'm not your bloody tour guide! I don't want to look at fishes swimming around in their fucking glass cages with children tapping against the glass - "

"Speaking from experience, dear Sebby?"

Sebastian growled. "Don't, Jim. Don't even."

Jim raised both his hands in mock surrender. He lowered down his arms, and stared at the manta ray gliding through the water. "If it matters so much to you, I'll have you know that I took care of that terrorist group, and they will never harm anyone again." He sighed. "Shame, though. They were doing pretty well in terrorising the public generally. They would've been useful."

A small smile quirked at the corner of Sebastian's mouth. Jim killed a small army of terrorists because of something that happened to Sebastian when he was still in the army - way before he met Jim?

Sebastian wasn't sure if he was going to be impressed, alarmed, scared, or touched. Probably all of that.

Sentiment. Huh. Haven't got a heart, my arse.

"I have to say, however." Sebastian finally conceded, after a moment of silence as they walked through the corridors of the aquarium, "I enjoyed this. I love the water, and when I was on active duty I didn't get to see enough of the ocean."

Jim nodded thoughtfully, as if he was listening. He looked like he was listening, but sometimes even Sebastian couldn't tell if he was.

"Why do you think I sent you away on that Australian holiday?"

He glanced at Jim to make sure he heard right, but the other man didn't show any sign that he even spoke.

Sebastian smiled. His boss could be downright human some days.

"All right, tour's over! Let's go push a man into the shark tank."


Jim had a huge smile on his face after he kicked the bucket of fish and chum in from the side, and slid the knife cleanly into Edward's side, making sure that it hurt and bled thoroughly. Sebastian was too busy setting up the rest of the stage, making sure that there was evidence that Edward Jacobs was drunk, or at best, hung-over. They'd injected a tiny, minuscule bit of alcohol in the man earlier, so it would show up in the blood. Not that it would matter.

"Here's one for Tony and his mum." Jim said as a good bye, and pushed the man in. He waved at the man a little, making sure that his last waking moment, aside from intense, literally bone-crushing pain, would be a creepy smile courtesy of one James Moriarty.

Sebastian drank a bit of the beer he'd used, and crushed the can and stuffed it into a jacket pocket. "Beautiful." He murmured, as he watched the man struggled in the water, clear blue becoming red. Sebastian stood with a relaxed, military stance, at rest, his feet apart as he observed with interest.

They watched the sharks fight over the body, ripping away the limbs and flesh. The man's shirt was a nice orangey contrast to the carnage.

"Mhmm. Art." Jim said. He reached an arm and hooked it over Sebastian's shoulder, and Sebastian slowly removed it with a hand.

They stood there, shoulder to shoulder, enjoying the peaceful, bloody moment.

Sebastian could only imagine the sort of commotion happening down in the visitors area right now. They'd have to leave in a few seconds. But for now, they happily and contentedly enjoyed their moment and handiwork.

This was what it was all about.


Hello Tony,

This is Jim. Edward is now sleeping with the fishes. You're welcome. Also, enclosed, which means, with this letter, is that poison I gave Carl Powers. Be careful with your bully's inhaler or vitamins.

Don't hesitate to send more letters, okay?

PS: I didn't kill the post people. They did their job well, getting your letter to me.

M, 34-to-be-35-soon

(Bonus random things in the next chapter)