We're Just Alike You and I (Sheriarty BBC Sherlock)

Chapter 17 - Doubt Thou The Stars Are Fire.

Sorry for the wait! I guess we're coming to the end of this fic soon. It may not seem like it now. Anyway, enjoy, guys! You're all fab! :)

Jim knew. He knew exactly what he had to do, and how he had to do it. Well, mostly, he just needed help from a certain someone. He had a plan that would change his life, for the better, he thought, a plan which would solve all of his problems and concerns. His life at the moment was a constant labyrinth of sleepless nights, places he didn't want to be, and people he wished were dead.

He sat on an unkept bench in St James' park, the paint peeling off, and a little moss growing on the edges. Jim frowned at it, but mostly kept his gaze distantly ahead of him. It was a pleasant morning, the beginning of summer, although the grass was damp from the rain that showered London the night before. Jim's leather shoes were slightly wet, and had a little grass on them which turned his frown into a scowl. Despite this, he was mostly relaxed due to the cigarette in his left hand, a habit he had picked up from Sebastian. Jim never smoked usually, but when feeling stressed, a single cigarette took the tension away. He took a long drag, watching the puff of smoke that filled the air. To him, he saw carbon monoxide, ammonia and various carcinogens. Chemical compounds that caused such awful deaths. This was probably why Jim didn't smoke much, only when it was necessary to him. He wanted a death which would take London down with him, something spectacular and dramatic, and so he took one last drag before dropping the cigarette and grinding it under his shoe with a scowl.

The teen began to recite pi up to five hundred decimal places when Sherlock Holmes snapped him out of his trance.

"James, I hear you have a proposition for me? Am I correct?" Sherlock grinned, causing the other boy to turn around.

"It's Jim, Sherly, you should know now, and yes. I do." He nodded, beckoning him to sit down next to him on the damp bench. Sherlock did as he was asked and sat next to him, leaving a relevant gap for the situation. The curly haired teen had been told that this proposition was part of his newly found job, but if he wanted to decline, then that was okay for once. Sherlock knew that this wasn't the time for the two of them to be sitting close, as it wasn't a social occasion by Jim's permanent scowl and his hardened eyes.

"I have a plan.... And I'm asking you to help me with this because I trust you the most, and you're not an idiot, okay?" He told him, receiving a nod from Sherlock. "And you're not going to say a word to anyone, right?"

"Obviously." Sherlock stated.

"Good." Jim nodded before turning properly to face him, debating whether to tell him or not. After a few silent moments:

"I'm going to kill my parents, Sherlock. And I want you to help me."

Sherlock blinked a few times before swallowing and regaining his composure. "You're going to what?"

"You heard. I don't like repeating myself." He replied flatly.

Sherlock sat in silence for a few moments, not knowing what to say. It was nothing like he had expected, even though he knew that Jim had psychotic tendencies and despised his parents. Sherlock himself didn't care about most people, but helping someone kill their own parents was something else.

"And how are you planning on doing this?" He asked him quickly, his blue eyes sharp and wide.

"Burn them. Everything. Burn down the house. It'll go up in flames quickly..." He told him, searching his face for any response apart from just a surprised expression.

"You won't do it." Sherlock denied with a shake of his head.

"Are you doubting me Sherlock? Are you doubting me of something that I have planned to do?" He glared at him.

"You're literally playing with fire here, Jim." Sherlock stated seriously.

"I know. There's fire naturally all around us, and I'm using it to my advantage."

"These people are your parents!" Sherlock said, raising his voice now.

Jim laughed bitterly with a shake of his head. "Of course." He spat. "I think my 'parents' are very different to yours, Sherlock."

"But sti-"

"But nothing!!" Jim snapped, raising the attention of a few Londoners walking by. "I thought you understood me, and I thought we were alike, but I was wrong!"

"Jim.... You said if I didn't want to do this, I wouldn't have to." Sherlock was right, he had said that. But Jim didn't think he'd doubt the fact that he could do something like this. It angered him as he thought they were alike, but no, he guessed they weren't.

"Fine! Piss off." He snapped, waving a hand in dismissal and turning around so he wasn't facing him, his jaw clenched.

Sherlock didn't leave, he felt like he was being tugged between the devil who was situated next to him, and the angel who was locked inside his inner psyche, telling him not to do anything he'd regret. His conscience. It was weird how Jim's vacillating personality could attract the taller teen so much. The amused, calm side to Jim could immediately fluctuate into something harsh and unpredictable. This was what hooked Sherlock, and this was what stopped him from leaving. The exhilarating unpredictability of it all

"You're still there." He said in a cold monotone, still not facing him.

"I know...."

"Why?"

"Because I'm debating it..."

"Think of it as a favour." He said flatly, still not looking at him. "Not a job. I thought you knew me better."

"I do know you. But it's a big thing."

He then turned to him. "So you'll think about it, hm?"

"Yes. I know you'd do it."

"Don't doubt me again, then."

"I won't doubt you again." He grinned.