A STUDY IN BLOOD

Play to Thrill

"Give me a shot by shot recount, soldier," Jim ordered, pushing himself deeper into the cushions of his armchair. Sebastian did the same in the chair across from his boss, except he propped his feet up onto the coffee table with a pointed glance at his boss.

"I am willing to ignore this blatant act of rebellion, Basher, simply because I want to hear the story and you've kept me waiting long enough."

Sebastian chuckled. "Not my fault I had to go to the bathroom!"

Jim glared at his sniper dangerously, tilting his head forward slightly.

Sebastian obeyed, recounting the story just as he had seen it play out, occasionally pausing in between to allow Jim to squeal in delight.

"Amazing," he breathed, once the story was finished.

Sebastian leaned back, satisfied. He was exhausted.

Jim watched his sniper's breathing; it was deep and slow. It was very calming for him, to an extent, to watch his massive chest rise and fall. Sebastian's head began to droop backwards, but Jim jumped up off his chair and strode to the center of the room.

"Moran!"

Sebastian jolted awake, instantly mirroring his boss and working himself up to standing.

"Get to the shooting range," Jim snapped. Sebastian didn't question him, just waited for his boss to lead the way down the basement.

They paused in every doorway, and Sebastian waited patiently behind Jim while he did his thing. He rubbed his eyes blankly, but hid his yawn.

He had noticed, in his five weeks at Moriarty's house, that the boss could never enter a room without flicking the lights on and off over and over, or twisting the door handle an uncountable number of times.

Sebastian never said anything, but he did privately look into the behavior, and resolved that he would stand behind him when they went into each room, so that Jim was in control of himself when they entered.

"Why am I down here?" Sebastian asked, pushing the magazine into the pistol and flicking it once in his hand to get used to it.

"Because I ordered you here," Jim crooned, jumping back onto a table and swinging his legs back and forth.

"I'm starting to think you like doing this," Sebastian mumbled, taking his position at the markers. A large blood stain had been left on the floor, a memory of Sebastian's first target.

"Maybe," Jim said.

Sebastian nodded once, and Jim laughed loudly, marking the beginning of their game.

"Moran."

Bang

"Moran." American accent.

Bang

"Faster now, MORAN," he shouted mid sentence.

Bang

"Moran." Sebastain's voice.

This time, Moriarty's sniper lagged, and it was noticed. Jim sidled up behind Sebastian, leaning forward into his ear.

"What, does this scare you?" He was literally speaking in a perfect imitation of Sebastian's voice. "Do you want me to stop? Ask me to stop."

"Stop."

"Ask me louder, Moran."

Bang

"STOP!" Sebastian shouted, but he didn't really want Jim to stop. He thought it was pretty cool.

"Alright, Moran. Just--"

Bang

"Geez-- fire the remaining rounds."

Bang

Bang

Bang

Bang

Bang

Bang

Bang

Bang

Bang

Bang

Bang

Bang

"That's so weird!" Jim exclaimed, jumping away from his sniper. "You are actually a worse marksman when I'm not telling you to shoot. Forget my enjoyment of this little game, I think you love it."

Sebastian said nothing. He let the empty magazine drop to the floor and moved to put it away on the rack.

"I like you, Tiger. I think we're going to make a great team."

"Jim Moriarty... and Sebastian Moran."