A STUDY IN BLOOD

Shoot to Thrill

Neither man said anything the entire car ride, but Sebastian could feel Jim's gaze on him occasionally. When they finally pulled up to the front of the house, Sebastian waited a moment for Jim to exit the car first, and then followed suit. Jim nodded when he rounded the car, causing Sebastian to hang back until after Jim was in front of him.

Jim unlocked the door quickly, but stood in the doorway for almost a minute, his hand still gripping the door handle. Sebastian thought he could see the handle twitching under his hand, but didn't say anything, simply waited patiently. Finally, Jim stepped through the door.

Sebastian looked up the grand staircase in the foyer, preparing to go upstairs, but Jim turned right instead, pushing open a small door set into the wall and almost hidden; matching molding caused it to blend in.

The sniper swallowed fearfully. Moriarty was going to take him down to his basement and kill him for getting lost during his first job.

Sebastian followed him anyway.

Jim paused in the doorway, but instead of holding the handle and staring straight ahead, he turned and glanced at Sebastian over his shoulder to ensure that his new sniper was following him.

A narrow staircase led straight downwards; Sebastian couldn't even see the bottom. But he followed Jim anyway, and was thoroughly shocked when the stairs leveled out.

They were in a finished basement of some kind. The ceiling was high, probably about two stories of a normal house, which explained the depth of the staircase. It was a single room, extremely narrow, but roughly as long as an American football field. Sebastian guessed that it went well past the edge of Jim's house.

The walls were very thick, possibly soundproof, and at the very end of the room, several odd looking targets lined the wall.

"My private shooting range," Jim said, spreading his arms out beside him and gesturing.

"Are those..." Sebastian took several steps forward, straining his eyes to try and make out the exact shapes of the targets. They were people-- or actually, crude mannequins. Several of them were hunched over, as if they were cowering, while others had their arms positioned as if they were holding invisible guns.

Jim nodded, one corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk. His hands were back in his pockets, and he walked around the room taking large, exaggerated steps as Sebastian looked around.

Sebastian noticed a rack of guns along the wall, and flocked to it, his hands stretched out in front of him, admiring the steel and machinery of each weapon.

"Take that one," Jim said, suddenly pointing around Sebastian's shoulder. "The Mossberg 464."

"Hunting rifle?" Sebastian questioned, despite already reaching for it. It was light in his hands, and easily slipped off the rack.

Jim made an incoherent sound from the back of his throat as Sebastian walked, the rifle already fitted in his hands, head bent over as he examined it.

"You're a hunter at heart, Tiger," Jim whispered. The back of Sebastian's neck tingled from Jim's breath; he was directly behind him as Sebastian took his place at the markers, aiming his rifle down the room.

"Correct?" Jim's voice seemed to crack at the beginning of the word, giving the man some sort of emotion.

Sebastian stiffened, then pushed his shoulders back down. "Correct, boss."

Jim made the noise again; a gutteral sound that came from the depths of his chest and escaped from his mouth-- almost like a growl. "What are you, Tiger?"