Sebastian Moran was lounging in his bed, attempting to sleep. Jim had kept him awake for a couple of days straight with his crazy Sherlock schemes and he could finally sleep after all of the body-aching-adrenaline-sex and heal his body, if just a little bit. He had been so angry at Jim for putting himself in the middle of the crossfire, able to be shot by Sherlock or even blown up. Oh, he would've had words… even if he wasn't the boss, and Jim was always right. Damn psychopath. Seb rolled over onto his back, putting his hands behind his head and sighing just ever so softly. It was only 9 on a Monday and Seb wanted to sleep, dammit. He seriously contemplated shooting out the telly for a moment, the thought running seductively through his mind like a gorgeous woman lying naked on his bed… Or a naked Jim. Annoyed with the rising and falling noise from the telly, Sebastian rose and fished some pants off the floor, slipping them on. He walked out to the living room otherwise naked. He secretly hoped the psychopath was watching Doctor Who or maybe Luther. Both shows were ones Sebastian secretly loved. Especially Doctor Who. It reminded him of a much more innocent time before he took his first life. The tall blonde shuffled into the room, almost turning around or sicking up at the sight. His (because Jim was, somehow, Seb's), Jim was sitting rather comfortably on the couch. It was very domestic-looking with Jim's legs curled onto the couch and a blanket draped across his calves. A cup of tea was in his hands and the small man was humming along with the music blaring on the TV. Said music was GLEE, actually. The most feared criminal in all of London and possibly the entire world was watching GLEE and seemingly enjoying the terrible show.

"Sebastian, dear, sit down or I will skin you by morning." Seb generally listened to Jim for his own health, perching at the end of the couch carefully, sitting on the arm. "Closer, Seb. You're lucky that it's commercials." The man rolled his eyes as the show came back on.

"It's GLEE, Jim-" A knife was near his face suddenly and he swatted it away.

"Skin," Jim reminded him, paying attention to the happenings on the screen.

Seb sat there rather awkwardly for the beginning of the show, relaxing farther and farther although he was admittedly getting bored. Jim wouldn't let him get up for anything, even to make coffee (Jim's favorite). He was doomed to watch the rest of the show, so he might as well enjoy it, even slightly. Seemed Jim was stupidly interested in the mundane show. Unfortunately, the trained killer began to reluctantly like the American TV show. It wasn't complex and its humor wasn't the best, but the show was a nice break from their life. At the end, Jim stretched as if his life depended on it. Seb looked at him with a hidden smile.

"Can I sleep now?"

"Maybe~" The criminal sauntered off into his bedroom, Sebastian following like an ever-faithful dog. In all honesty, he probably was. Like Brittany was to Santana.

A week later, the infernal show graced their screen once more. And the week after and the weeks after. By the end of season 2, Seb and Jim had taken to humming the songs while watching them in Jim's living room. The show became secret between them. And when the two come around, maybe (possibly), they would end up as perfect as Kurt and Blaine, although far more sick and twisted than either. This went on for a while until Jim's next game with Sherlock. It happened in a few days, after GLEE had aired of course, and Jim had died on the roof top. Seb took the stairs three at a time after everything had cleared, opening the roof access and running to Jim's body. He picked up the man, holding him to his chest and pushing back the tears that threatened to push out. No, he was just a servant, Jim meant nothing. Jim had meant everything. Shaky lips were pressed to Jim's cool forehead and a mournful humming of 'Landslide' had started. Between the two of them, their favorite song had quickly become the duet of Santana and Brittany. The ever faithful servant sat there for a while until his humming became ragged and torn in his closing throat.

The blonde man would bury his boss in a small grave with an even smaller gravestone. Every Monday at nine, the man would tune into that terrible, boring show just to remember Jim and their complicated relationship, remembering just how close the show made them and how close they had become through the show. It became a tradition for the sniper until the show ended and Sebastian's life after that.