A STUDY IN BLOOD

Business Contract, Nothing More

Three months later

Sebastian jerked backwards violently as he woke up, slamming his head against the wall on accident and cursing. Disoriented, he rubbed his hand over the back of his head with closed eyes and tried to stand, but his knees gave out and he toppled down again, sinking back into the pallet on the floor.

He pressed his hands into the wooden floor in front of his makeshift mattress and straightened his legs, keeping his head down until he felt good enough to stand. He straightened up after a few moments, blinking groggily in the sunlight that fell from the window across from him.

He walked across the tiny room, skillfully stepping over the empty bottles and discarded cases of beer that precariously littered the floor. Sebastian peered out the window, but could not see the sun setting on either western or eastern horizon- damn. He had hoped he would sleep till the next morning, at least. He had certainly drinken enough to ensure that.

"Glad you're finally standing."

Sebastian spun around faster than he should've been able to, and ended up wobbling dangerously at the end of the turn. A knife had appeared in his hands, somehow, and was as steady as if a lifelong sober man was holding it.

A well dressed man was sitting in the corner, his ankle propped up on his knee as he sat on the only piece of furniture Sebastian owned. The man slid off the small table and took a few steps forward. His dark hair shone in the sunlight as he got closer to the window.

He examined Sebastian with a blank expression, his eyes lazily drifting over Sebastian's body.

"Strong build," the man said absently. He flicked his thumb over the end of his own nose, as though he was trying to hide his smile. "Yes, I think you'd be perfect."

"Who the hell are you?" Sebastian demanded, taking a rather large and stumbling step towards the intruder.

The man had withdrawn a manilla folder that he now held propped open in his hands. "'Impulsive, psychotic tendencies, doesn't work well with others,'" he read aloud, looking up briefly at the end. He snapped the folder shut and tucked it under his arm again, taking a bold step forward. Sebastian waved the knife through the air and jabbed it forward towards the man."Exactly what I'm looking for," the man finished.

"I'm gonna as' you again,'' Sebastian threatened, slurring slightly. "Who the hell are you?"

Jim took one more step, and the blade grazed the front of his coat. He looked down at the knife held to his chest with an expression of only mild contempt. "And I will ask you; who did you kill?"

Sebastian lowered his knife involuntarily, wide eyed and staring at the man before him.

"Because it says here that you killed your superior officer," the man said. He tapped the folder under his arm.

"Where did you-"

"I don't mind the murder, obviously, but, as your potential future superior, I would like to know what I should avoid doing."

"Why would I work for you?"

"Because I can offer you more." The words seemed to fall out of his mouth; he had obviously been dying to cut to the chase. The man was suddenly very close to Sebastian, who had all but forgotten about the knife, now hanging limply in his hand. "More than-" he gestured vaguely at the surrounding room, with the peeling wallpaper and water-ruined ceiling- "this. I can offer you something even more addicting than alcohol, you drunkard." He spit the last words out of his mouth accusingly.

The man took the knife out of Sebastian's hands, and the latter didn't even try to resist. "I can offer you revenge. On everyone who has hurt you."

"Everyone?" Sebastian's voice was merely a whisper. The man's smile grew wider.

"The private who reported you for murder," the man began to list off the people that had been on Sebastian's private list since he had been discharged three months ago. "Your father." His tongue flicked across Sebastian's ear- he had sunk to his knees without realizing, and was staring absently at the floor in front of him while the man circled him. "I saw your psych-evals. I can help you get revenge, Moran."

"And in return?" Sebastian asked, his voice slightly stronger.

"And in return," the man echoed, straightening up and holding a hand out to Sebastian. "You'll be my bodyguard. My sniper. You're a crack shot, Moran, I've seen the records. Roughly 500 kills during your tour in Afghanistan..."

"513."

"Pretty impressive."

Sebastian looked up at him, a pure aching in his eyes. He had stopped swaying, and his eyes were focused and clear now. He took a deep breath, wincing slightly as his chest expanded, and let out a long sigh, his eyes fluttering as the air left his chest.

He accepted the man's hand, standing up to his full height. The man only came up to roughly Sebastian's chin, and was a lot leaner, but much better dressed. Fancy, laundered suit, handmade shoes. Slicked back hair, bright eyes that seemed to glow slightly as Sebastian clutched his hand.

"Now who the hell are you?" Sebastian asked, still holding the man's hand in a frozen, unmoving handshake.

"Jim Moriarty. Hi."