Mormor Oneshots

3

(An idea of angst based on this song and an old ass cosplay video I did. If I can share it I'll try to but if not just know that I stuck well to the script of the video! Anyway enjoy and cry /lh)

(TW for suicide, description of grief, mention of violence, character death.)

He leaned the case against the wall, making sure this was the proper position. No one could see him, but he could see everything he would need. Making sure the earpiece in his ear was active, he started unpacking the rifle and setting up. It was annoying to open the window slightly more than intended but it didn't matter. He was in position, letting Jim know so with a muttered "ready". 

The reality was that he wasn't ready at all. Despite Jim's planning and reassurances, there was so much that could go wrong. Sherlock could throw him off the building, some secret raid could've been called, Mycroft could interrupt the scene...so much. Perhaps that was just Sebastian's overthinking. He forced himself to stop overthinking by rubbing the engraving on the butt end of it.

'You May Be Rotten, But I Enjoy Such Fruit'.

It didn't sound all that romantic, being compared to a rotten fruit. But it was something Jim said the first time he said 'I love you'. It was any other night, besides the hatred boiling inside Sebastian's gut and spewing out by calling himself a "rotten bastard". He still wasn't quite sure how Jim came up with that. That man may have been a romantic sap, but he never was good with verbally expressing that. Still, those words stuck with Sebastian. It felt comforting to hear.

The wind crackled through Jim's earpiece, making the sniper grimace slightly. He'd rather hear that beautiful Irish voice instead of some damned wind. He kept an eye out but it seemed he was rather early. Jim was on the roof, probably rehearsing whatever speech he made up in his head for the millionth time. Sebastian adjusted the scope on his gun, peering at the empty street below. He was the sniper on John Watson, of course. It wouldn't surprise him to hear that he was specifically assigned the doctor for whatever symbolism that only Jim would understand. 

He couldn't relax, tuning out the wind and focusing on surround noises. The building was quite abandoned, but the chance of someone walking in was possible. That's why he made sure to bring his handgun on top of the sniper rifle. His hand went to the pocket he kept the smaller firearm in and frowned.

Empty.

He glanced towards the rooftop. "Jim, where's my handgun?"

No answer. He damn well knew the man could hear him, these earpieces had been tested several times over. There was no option to mute the other user or even mute yourself. 

"Answer me, damnit!" He hated getting irritated with Jim but couldn't help it. There was exactly one rule Sebastian made when he moved in with the man. Don't touch his guns...without permission at least. 

Despite the demanding tone, there wasn't an answer. Wonderful. The sniper sighed and decided to let it go, gritting his teeth. He could get annoyed at Jim after this 'game' was over. Though he felt more on edge without the handgun. It was like forgetting something important at home. If Jim had it, though, at least it was in safe hands...

There wasn't any response from Jim...or even any noise. No wind or anything. Did the earpiece break...? Maybe the weather ruined their connection. Damn London weather. Couldn't this "final showdown" be scheduled for a day with sunny weather...? Oh well. Still, he felt the need to check in. "What's taking so long?"

No response. 

Sebastian felt more at edge now. He didn't like that Jim wasn't answering him, and didn't like that he couldn't see the rooftop. He could barely make the shape of his partner up there, just a speck with the distance between them. Moving the rifle was out of the question, he had a job to do. He was on the job, he couldn't act like this. That didn't stop him from being anxious, fiddling with his clothes.

Something jingled in his pocket when he fixed his jacket. Frowning, he reached inside the pocket. Cold and small metal...maybe spare bullets that fell out? No, no. Too round for that. Sebastian pulled it out, sucking in a breath at the sight. It wasn't the engagement ring that was shocking, but the necklace. 

The necklace that he had boughten Jim for their one month anniversary that was always worn around his neck. The one that rested just perfectly above his heart. The one that was the Celtic Tree of Life that Jim still thanked him for after a year had passed since that anniversary. The necklace that was even worn under suits no matter what the meeting was.

Something was wrong. 

Sebastian clutched the jewelry in his palm tightly, mind racing. Jim took that necklace off to bath and that was it. Taking it off now wasn't in character. Not unless he was anticipating dying in some way. The fact that his handgun was missing made that thought even worse, heart pounding in his ears. 

"JAMES!" His voice was louder than he wanted it to be but Sebastian didn't care. He needed his partner to respond. He needed to know he wasn't about to die. He needed to know that after this was done, they could go home together. Go home and retire, maybe move out of the damn country and get a dog or two. 

The earpiece crackled. Finally, an answer.

"...As long as I'm alive, you can save your friends; you've got a way out."

"No, nonono. Stop it, Jim." Sebastian hissed the words out, feeling his heart hit the floor. He was no super genius but he could figure out what was going on. He hated doing it, but he begged Jim not to do whatever he had planned. He begged, he tried to make bargains, anything. Anything to get Jim away from this plan.

"Well, good luck with that!"

It always seemed stupid when people claimed that time slowed down when tragedy struck. But time certainly did slow down in that moment. He heard the rustle of clothes from Jim, he heard Sherlock's footsteps backwards. Worst of all, he heard Jim's final words. To him, not to Sherlock. To him.

"You'll live forever, Basher." 

The gunshot rang out, the noise an assault on Sebastian's ears. Jim's body must've hit the ground and his earpiece fell out. The sniper didn't cry. He screamed in grief, falling back against a wall as tears streaked down his face. His hand still clenched the engagement ring and necklace, though its grip loosened as he tried to get control of himself.

He had a job. If Sherlock didn't jump off the bloody roof, he had a job. Pull the trigger on John Watson. Aggressively wiping tears away until his eyes hurt, Sebastian stared out the window. Despite being far away, he would be able to tell if Sherlock jumped. With every ounce of hatred in him, he dared the bastard to do it. 

When he didn't see a figure on the ledge or a body drop, he got on the rifle. Watching John stand in the street below, on the phone. He didn't care who it was with, the numbness taking over. He waited, staying locked on target. Every so often he would flick towards the building. 

At some point he saw the detective fall. Like a disgraced angel, plunging to the ground with no chance of survival. Sebastian didn't bother watch what John did next or tell the others. He slumped back into the wall, sick to his stomach. He was quite used to death and the violent natures of it. It wasn't that death occurred twice...it was that Jim's death happened.

And he heard it. He heard the gun fire off and project the bullet into the Irishman's pretty head. He heard the last whispered words and heard the tears that Jim wouldn't let fall. It was his goddamn gun that did the deed in the end. His stomach flipped and twisted the more he thought of it.

"You'll live forever, Basher."

Not without Jim he wouldn't.