Apologies: because this is my first fic, it's very long, if I offend you, there may be some triggers(?), there is a lot of violence, I don't know Irish (it's from google translate), if I got the German wrong (it's been a year), there may be a muddle in the order of the story, for this bold bit :(
Disclaimer: I don't own sir Arthur Conan Doyle's characters, but I own my characters.
Hope you enjoy! :)
At the time of his birth, Sebastian was the youngest of 15 children. That is not to say by any means, that he was the 15th and final child, simply that he was number 15. As I'm sure you can imagine, being in so large a family, it was difficult to stand out and be yourself but, this was not just any family. Our dearest Sebastian was born to 2 of the wealthiest people in England at the time, who had ancient family values and part of that meant that they were not - by any stretch of the imagination- meant to stand out. It also meant that you had to be quite tough, when you consider the disciplining, and the values and the traditions of the family. Yes, you most definitely had to be tough.
Sliding down their expensive flat walls, Sebastian Moran cried as memories of a time he wanted to forget, flooded through his mind as though it were a montage in a movie. He knew Jim was watching but all he could do was cry for a loss he hadn't mourned for. He felt Jim sit next to him. They were shoulder to shoulder and Seb leant his head against Jim who let him.
"Are you going to tell me what all this is about? The necklace? Our client?" Despite being said in a sympathetic voice as though it were a friend merely posing a question; they both knew that it was an order from a boss to his soldier- this was Jim Moriarty after all. Still leaning his head on Jim's shoulder, Seb stopped his crying and took in a shaky breath. He was going to do Her justice. He was going to tell Her story as it deserved to be told.
"It's...a rather long story" came his stuttered reply. Moriarty's hand brushed through Sebastian's hair in a comforting gesture. Moran was his, and he needed to know what hurt his beloved tiger. He would...well, make whatever -whoever-pay. So he comforted his tiger.
"We have time"
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