A STUDY IN BLOOD

Don't Sweat it, Tiger

"Take these," Jim ordered, shoving a bottle into Sebastian's hands. "And this," he handed Sebastian a plastic water bottle, "and sober up, Tiger."

They had arrived at a very large and very white house just before noon, and now stood in an open foyer, but Sebastian was still very obviously hungover, or drunk, or both.

"Tiger?" Sebastian twisted the cap off the pill bottle, but didn't hesitate to dump two small pills onto his hand. He had no idea what they were-- the bottle's label had been taken off- but they slipped down easily, and he drank the cold water eagerly.

"You used to be a big game hunter with your uncle, yes?" Jim asked.

"Yes, but--"

"And you loved hunting tigers the most, correct?"

"How--"

"Don't sweat it, Tiger, I've made up my mind. Sebastian is too big of a mouthful."

Sebastian nodded. His head felt really heavy- he needed to lie down.

"Good, the meds are already working," Jim exclaimed, snapping a finger in front of Sebastian's face. His eyes followed Jim's fingers, but he didn't flinch or react at all. "I'm surprised every time by how fast they can enter your system." Jim placed a hand along Sebastian's back and led him through the house he had brought him to.

"You're a big guy," he mumbled absently, "hope you don't drift before I've gotten you somewhere safe."

On the second set of stairs, Sebastian stumbled on the landing and almost face planted, but Jim reached out and caught him deftly. "Now now, Tiger," he whispered. "God, how drunk are you?"

"Pre-y sure ya drug me," Sebastian grumbled.

"Drug you? Never. But I need you for a job tonight, and I can't have you drunk for that."

They had finally reached a place deemed safe enough to dump the large man; a long, narrow couch inside a large and neatly decorated room. Jim gently pushed him onto the couch and watched as Sebastian sagged against it, eyes already closed.

"You'll wake up good as new, Tiger," Jim said quietly, patting Sebastian's shoulder.

~

Sebastian woke up slowly, his consciousness sluggishly catching up with his surroundings as he opened his eyes. A very clean, white ceiling with crown molding was above him, and the smell of tea and lavender aftershave hung around him.

He sat upright, glancing around and assessing the room. He had been laying on a couch, which was flanked on either side with two armchairs that faced each other. A thin tv took up a large chunk of the wall opposite him, but there was no remote to be seen. To his right, opposite two large windows overlooking the city, was a large kitchenette-looking area.

The only light was coming from a lamp thing on one of the counters-- it was dark outside and the lights had been left off while he slept.

Sebastian stood briskly and walked over to the kitchen and the light, feeling rested and energized. Maybe he could stomach eating something. He didn't check his watch, but twelve hours had passed. The kitchenette hosted a large refrigerator, an ice chest, and a long counter covered in various liquor bottles, all at different stages of fullness.

Sebastian abandoned the extensive minibar reluctantly, knowing he wouldn't find anything useful there, and opened the first door he saw. It led to a large bedroom, with a huge bed in the middle, deep blue duvet draped over it and matching throw pillows arranged neatly at the head of the bed.

All of the furniture matched; a wardrobe, two bedside tables, and even the shelves along the walls were all the same deep mahogany color.

Sebastian sniffed instinctively, the lavender aftershave mingled with mint in here. Puzzled, Sebastian shut the door and turned back to face the room he had come from.

"What were you doing?" Jim snapped, advancing towards him.

"I didn't touch anything; I was trying to find someone and opened that door," Sebastian snapped back, with just as much ferocity.

"Don't snap at me, Moran." Jim's fist was clenched, his voice low and even, but Sebastian thought he saw the corners of his mouth twitch.

Sebastian caved, moving away from the door without another word. Jim nodded approvingly and held out a folder for him. It was almost identical to the one that he had had when he came to visit Sebastian, only this one was a lot thinner.

"I have a job for you. It's a cabbie who lives in Newham, he needs his orders."

"You employ cabbies?" Sebastian asked stupidly, flipping through the folder. There was a picture of a shabby looking man staring up at him inside. The corner of the photograph was tucked underneath a second picture, showing a woman and two children, both of whom had been circled with red ink. The slanted letters "PP" were written beside the picture, with large, sloppy arrows pointing in towards the children.

"This one, yes. I'm a consulting criminal, Moran. I provide people with... ah... resources."

"You pay people to commit crimes?"

Jim nodded, examining Sebastian's face and waiting for his reaction.

"That's incredible."

"Knew you'd like it." Jim tapped the folder in Sebastian's hands with his pointer finger. "Now hop to it, Tiger."

~

"Your only job was to deliver the instructions to him! That was your only job!" Jim threw the phone across the room with a grunt. It landed in the corner of the wall, but he could still hear the muffled voice of his new sniper, still talking through the line.

He had been hopeful for this man.

Sighing loudly, Jim walked over to the corner of his study and stooped to pick the phone up. Sebastian had stopped talking on the other end, but he was still there.

"Where are you?" Jim asked.

"Newham," Sebastian said, his voice muffled. "I told you, I got lost."

"Don't use that tone with me! Not when I'm saving your ass."

Jim flipped the phone shut and dropped it on the ground again, mumbling to himself. "Needs extraction-- God, what an idiot."

He opened the door a crack and peaked his his through, so that he was shouting into the hallway. "I NEED A CAR!"

Moments later, Jim was in the back seat of his sports car, ankle casually propped up on his knee, hand balled into a fist on the seat beside him.

"This is the only time I'll bail you out, Moran," Jim said, as if his sniper was already in the car beside him. As it was, Newham was still a good ways away, so Jim leaned his head back against the seat and shut his eyes.