Prompting Part XXIV

[sherlockbbc_fic]

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FILL: Best Boyfriend Ever

[tacotheshark]

(Warning for old lady murder?)

Sunlight filters in through the tall window of the house - abandoned, as it is, the fuses have long blown out. Though, it isn’t as if Sebastian Moran would think for a second to illuminate the building - he wouldn’t want to draw attention to himself - as he crouches behind said window his his rifle pointed at the Tesco across the street and Jim Moriarty’s arms wrapped around his waist like two skinny boa constrictors.

“That’s her,” Jim growls, insane eyes wide, breathing warm on Sebastian’s neck and pointing to an elderly cashier ringing up groceries at her own very slow pace. “That’s the bitch who charged me twice for a Coke.”

Sebastian had, as always, tried to explain earlier that it had to have been a mistake and that, she’s like eighty, Jim, for fuck’s sake, but Jim, also as always, would have none of it.

We must rid the world of this disgrace, so that no one will ever again experience such an injustice, Jim had then demanded, manic in his frustration.

And so, Sebastian is perched in an empty house, about to shoot the head off of someone’s grandmother. Well, at least he could never say that his life wasn’t interesting.

“What are you waiting for,” Jim hisses, “SHOOT HER, you doofus.” And suddenly, there are teeth in Sebastian’s neck, and Sebastian thrashes to swat Jim’s fact away.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Shoot her.” As Jim speaks, he wraps his arms around Sebastian tighter and fits his chin into the indentation between Sebastian’s neck and shoulder.

As Sebastian’s learned better than to complain when Chin’s chin is digging sharply into his flesh, he takes his aim at the old lady again. He pulls the trigger and a shot is fired; in a second, the conveyer belt is splattered with blood, as are the unfortunate folks who happened to be walking behind the lady. “Happy?”

“As a clam, dear,” Jim chirps, grinning, as he gets off of Sebastian and moves to sit with his back against the window.

“We should get out of here,” Sebastian says, packing up his rifle.

“No need. Sherlock’s little police force is awfully slow.”

“Alright, then.” Sebastian kneels in front of Jim, takes a fag from his pocket, lights it, and presses it to his lips, slipping his eyes closed as he takes a long drag. When he looks back at Him, Jim had an eyebrow raised in waiting.

When the fag is pressed to Jim’s mouth by Sebastian’s fingers, he inhales and flicks his tongue out at it when Sebastian takes it back.

“Sebby Moran,” Jim says adoringly, lunging forward to wrap his arms around Sebastian’s neck and press his lips to Sebastian’s in a quick kiss, “you are the best boyfriend ever.”