So long little birdy.

[thecrackshot]

Moran stood over Jim's body, blood on his shoes.  Jim bought him those shoes last week because he thought the other pair were hideous or scuffed or didn't match his own eyes.  Moran hadn't paid attention at the time and now it was lost to him.  He smirked for a moment and crouched down, stupidly feeling for a pulse that couldn't be there. The wound

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[dontbeobvious]

"You wouldn't or you'd find yourself featuring in my wardrobe as my latest hat," Jim sung slowly as he whipped through footage of a childrens morning show, not Watership Down. Not a massive different but there were humans instead of rabbits and no gore. He needed graphics like that and besides, he had to study these idiots who wasted their lives.

He had to study the body language and manner of a storyteller. Peppy, clasping hands together, patronizing, horrible fashion. Too bright and stupid. Like the special needs children.

"Moran, honestly, if you touch me again, you're in trouble," he warned, rubbing the patch of hair back as it was disturbed by the flick. Moran was a good live in, very human, much like Sherlocks John but the equal opposite. He had gone purposely for the closest he could get.

Plus Moran was always his best. He was almost impressed sometimes. Almost

[thecrackshot]

Moran resisted the urge to roll his eyes and plunked down on the opposite end of the white sofa. Too white. Everything here was too white. He'd actually not thought he'd survive this long. Last month, Jim had gone off to see Sherlock after his trail and the day after, Moran was told to move into the second bedroom in his condo.

He'd been sure that it was actually a goodbye. He'd be shot. Or skinned alive. But that was a month ago. A full month. And no one had actually even brought up having him killed.

Business as usual, except now he got to have some of the milk he bought for Moriarty on his errands.

"In trouble how? Having to sit through more children's shows? This cereal is soggy. Want a pancake?"

[dontbeobvious]

"I'd have you punished, you naughty boy," Jim drawled, the words coming out in an oddly seductive manner as he looked up from his spot on the floor. He had been on the sofa but he'd slid down to get a closer look. He knew it wouldn't be hard, it was acting and he'd done it all his life. He felt nothing, he was dead inside really. He was empty and devoid of caring, of interests outside the petty and everything came down to the same things.

Maths, murder, mayhem and Sherlock.

But when he was around others, he could fake it. He even practiced on Moran often, like now. He turned his head, grinning brightly and nodding his head in an eager fashion.

"Pancakes! With syrup and sprinkle some sugar on. Gonna need a kick today, long one ahead of me."

[thecrackshot]

Moran never knew. Oh, he was sure that his boss was absolutely insane, but any good criminal for hire really had to be this day and age. He padded off into the kitchen only to pause at the words coming from Moriarty's mouth.

"I'm pretty damned naughty," he said with a grin. He didn't understand the sexual tension there. He really didn't. The man purred like a kitten in his ear one moment and yelled at him the next for something he didn't even do because he changed his mind about how many sugars went into his tea each day. Moran had long since decided that their partnership was just a big joke, and he was fine with that.

You should never sleep with your boss when he's a psychopath and you kill people for him.

"Long one doing what? Flirting with that reporter?"

[dontbeobvious]

What a warm welcome, he didn't even get chance to brag either! He pulled a face at the lack of chance to remove his shoes and the potential dirty he may end up tracking but Moran was too busy giving him a hello-I-want-to-fuck-your-brains-out kiss. And frankly, Jim had no problem with it.

What was wrong with a touch of the old passion to spice everything up between them?

Smirking, he leaned over and wrapped his arms around Morans neck. It didn't take much to do what he did neck but transferring his weight, he hauled himself up and managed to wrap his legs around Morans waist before pulling back.

"Oooh goodie! Is this my gift for being such a good boy and escaping jail? Shall we fuck up the wall darling?"

So romantic.

[thecrackshot]

Pressing Jim back against the wall and bracing him with one hand, Sebastian pulled off his shoes (he knew the drill, no shoes in the house) and left them by the elevator before he did the same with the smaller man's shirt and left that too. A little dance was all that was needed to get them through the door and into the living room. The rug would have to do. He couldn't get them any further than that before he started tearing his own clothes off

[dontbeobvious]

Well that sort of killed the lovely impulsive passion that he assumed this was... but, erm, Moran had a point. It robbed him of his glory if it ended with the whimper of a sexually transmitted diseased as opposed to the glorious bang of what he was baking on. Who knew, it might end up happening anyway

[thecrackshot]

The tumbled off of the bed and onto the floor. He wanted Jim on his back, those big eyes focused up on him and he wanted to listen to the lilting, pitch shifting voice merge into his own. Sebastian was brutal as Jim egged him on. He grabbed at his wild hair, pulling back his head, and buried his face against his neck.

Sebastian wouldn't call it perfect. It was messy and he threw his back out towards the end actually. But, rolling off of the smaller man, Sebastian stared up at the ceiling with a sticky condom half pulled off, Moran smirked and tried to catch his breath. "Maybe you should go to jail more often."

[dontbeobvious]

"I think I was just dumped," Jim remarked with a small exaggerated pout on his face. He wasn't heart broken, just a little pissed off and off put by the whole misadventure. Slumped on the floor by the bed, he heaved a sigh before looking up at Moran... who was also his boyfriend? One night stand? Who knew, he seemed to have a lot of them. Probably an open relationship.

Closing his yes, he took a few deep breaths to calm himself before chuckling.

It was so ordinary, worrying over partners and pitching woo. Part of him had to smile because it was mad. Since when did he ever care? Looking up at Moran again, he rolled his head and tried to adjust his neck comfortably.

It was all really starting to hurt.

"Does she think I'm a zombie?"

[thecrackshot]

"You're suppose to be dead. You're also suppose to keep that story up and fucking running because dammit, Jim-- Get back into bed." He didn't wait for Morarty to do it, he just scooped him right up and placed him back into bed. He expected, at any moment, for the bandages around his head to errupt in a bright red. He was worried. More, now than ever. "Please, please don't call anyone else."

There, begging. Happy, Jim? Moran's hands were firm and solid, but a man without his willpower, his breeding, and his training would probably be shaking all over the place now.

"Should I put a movie on? Will that make you stay the fuck still?"

[dontbeobvious]

"You know, you don't behave much like a loyal pet," Jim ground out as he kicked Moran away in a fit of temper. He didn't fancy being touched right now, he was clearly in one of those moods. And the moods of a genius could be very fickle and never ending. After all, Jim was not known for being a patient and loving man.

Sitting in bed was boring him and he really didn't like that. Molly didn't want to play, he couldn't get a hold of work on his phone and he couldn't think enough to do maths.

He was honestly worrying that his brains might be scrambled and that did not sit well with Jim when he floated in and out of realisation.

"Why would I want to watch a movie?"

[thecrackshot]

He didn't let Jim see his dismay, he just threw his hands up in the air and stalked out of the room. He made a call to the surgeon's handlers and then headed down to unlock the door. Sebastian would have to trust Jim not to give his name away. He wouldn't be able to be there. Not if he had to play the boss. Moriarty's need for anonymity was both a blessing a curse.

A dog nosed man with thick glasses and a faintly affectionate smile arrived half an hour later and gave a little bow to Jim.

"You're Richard? Can I take a look at your head?"