The Virgin And The Sniper
A/N: @devil_in_westwood on Instagram has the absolute best Mormor incorrect quotes on any site. They are top tier and I decided to write a fic on one of them. I’ll probably do more in the future when I’m in the mood, but for now I’m feeding all the people hungry for Mormor content. Unbeta’d as always because I’m sleepy.
“Sebastian: What makes you think I know what he’s doing?
Sherlock: You’re his second in command, his lover, his weakness. You must know something.
Sebastian, grinning: See, that’s where you’re wrong, Virgin. I may be many things to the Boss, but a weakness? He’d never allow it. I don’t know shit for that exact reason, so good luck trying to stop him.”
Pairings: Sebastian Moran x Jim Moriarty, slight Severin Moran x Richard Brook
Summary: Jim was going to give Sebastian hell for being captured by Sherlock Holmes. If Sebastian can manage not to go insane with Sherlock’s constant droning that is. The Holmes brothers were terrible at interrogation.
Word count: 1,159
Warnings: referenced/implied of torture, reference/implied abuse, reference/implied drug use
Sebastian forgot to water his plants. That was his only concern as he regained consciousness. His legs were tied to the legs of the chair he sat in, his arms tied behind his back. It was very much something out of an American film if not for the clearly Englishman in front of him.
Sherlock Holmes was a menace to society. Worse, he was a menace to Jim Moriarty and Sebastian can’t have that. So yes, he may or may not have willingly been caught just to keep an eye on Sherlock. He would never admit it to Jim. Knowing the crazed Irishman, Jim might do something rash if he found out that Sebastian was in Sherlock’s care.
“Good, you’re awake,” Sherlock said in place of greeting, definitely high on something from the way he was leaping from floor to sofa. Looking around with half shut eyes Sebastian recognized the room as one he was forced to watch for days. Sherlock’s living room looked cozy enough. Though the chair he was currently tired to leave much to be desired. “You’d be of no use to me dead.”
Sebastian rolled his eyes. If he had a pound for every time he heard that he’d have enough to rival the allowance Jim gave him. What good could a man be dead? Besides Sherlock Holmes that is, but the man had faked his death.
Unoriginal bastard.
“What do you want from me?”
“I know Moriarty is alive.” Sherlock stared at Sebastian with the hazy look of a man who had snorted more than he should. It was an accusatory expression. “I want to know exactly what he is planning. If he wanted to stay dead he wouldn’t have made himself known so obviously.” Sherlock shook his head and leapt onto his desk. The piles of papers haphazardly balanced on the desk fell with a flourish. “Please,” Sherlock spat, “Cornering and capturing John is such an overused move.”
Sebastian raised his brow at that. He was not aware of the capture of Watson. Jim hated the blonde more than he hated Sebastian most days. And that was saying something. What was Jim planning?
“What makes you think I know what he’s doing?” Sebastian peered up at the curly haired detective, licking his chapped lips. He was unsure how long he had been out but by the fact there was no light from the open curtains he had been unconscious for at least a day.
“You’re his second in command,” Sherlock bounded from the desk and Sebastian gained a migraine from trying to track him. “His lover,” he continued from the kitchen archway. Sebastian was getting sick of this very quickly.
“His weakness,” the detective hissed from the hall. “You must know something.”
Sebastian grinned at Sherlock’s words. How could someone who claimed to be so smart be such an idiot? “See, that’s where you’re wrong, Virgin. I may be many things to the Boss, but a weakness?” Sebastian’s canines stuck out when he smiled, his expression always lopsided. “He’d never allow it. I don’t know shit for that exact reason, so good luck trying to stop him.”
Sherlock paused, seemingly put out by Sebastian. His eyes went blank just as Jim’s would when he went mad. Something having to do with their mind empires if Sebastian had to guess. It always gave him the creeps how people could shut down like that. Richard had the same ability and Sebastian had received many calls from a concerned Severin over the years. Sherlock was debating something over in his head and that could not mean good things for Sebastian.
“You’re expendable?” Sherlock asked the question the same way a child would. He was completely clueless to the answer but just as curious.
Sebastian hummed non committedly before shrugging, “That’s one way to see it. Sure.”
“No, no, that can’t be right.”
“I don’t know what to tell you. If the boss really had a weakness then you’ve gotten the wrong bloke because it’s not me.” Sebastian watched as Sherlock rearranged things in his mind to cater to the new information Sebastian provided. “I didn’t even know that he captured your little soldier. Jim isn’t a fan of keeping me in the loop when it comes to things he knows I’ll disagree with.”
“You’re wrong. You must be,” Sherlock’s words rang, only half hearing Sebastian’s words. “You’re not just some worker to him. You can’t be.” Sebastian tried to interrupt to correct him but Sherlock would not have it. “No, no, if you were just another ant in his endless hill then the video I sent him just hours ago would be useless. I spent hours on it, making sure everything appeared real enough to fool even him.”
“What sort of video did you send him?” Sebastian was skeptical. He was rethinking his plan of watching over Sherlock by being captured. If Sherlock sent Jim some sort of messed up sex tape while he was out than he was dead. Jim would not take well to his toys being played by others.
Sherlock locked eyes with Sebastian, his features suddenly clear of all its drug influence. Holmes looked completely sober as if he had been faking it the whole time. Sebastian had been tricked into something he was not going to enjoy. “Oh, just the video of me beating you to the brink of death.”
A bullet whizzed through the air merely a hair away from Sherlock’s ear. Blood dripped from the side of his head where the bullet grazed his skin. He smiled and it was worse than any Sebastian had seen before. “He’s just on time. I do love a punctual man.”
“On time? On time for what, Virgin?” Sebastian questioned, uncaring about his panic if it meant he lived. “Whatever you did, it's not worth it. Don’t you value your life or your soldier’s?”
The pound of a dozen and some footsteps sounded from the stairwell. Their steps were the heaviness of armed men and women. “Here I thought you meant nothing to him.” Sherlock was giddy. That was the only way to describe his expression.
“His wrath isn’t worth it I promise you. Let me talk to him and I’ll clear everything up as a big misunderstanding,” Sebastian pleaded for Sherlock’s life. For his own. For that of his plants. “I let you kidnap me, alright? If he knows the truth he might go easy on you. Think about your kid, your blonde.” Sebastian wasn’t getting to him. He had planned to observe Sherlock, not sign his death certificate.
Grinding his teeth Sebastian hissed, “You were right. So please, I’m begging you, Sherlock. Let me talk to Jim first.”
With the gait of a doomed prey, Sherlock closed the door behind him to 221B. The handle clicked into place and Sebastian heard the measured footsteps of the man he’d know even in death. Jim’s voice reached him beyond the door. Sebastian’s plants were not going to be watered anytime soon.
