Checkmate

Chapter 11: Check

John watson receives a text from a blocked number,  John Watson. Get out. This is your only warning. You have exactly 20 minutes. ~H. John has no idea who sent the text but his past combat experience warns him to take the warning and get out while he still can. So John complies with the excuse to Jim that he was just going to the store to pick up some things, because his staff never gets the right brand. Jim is too distracted with problems with his network, that he couldn't care less about John. Moriarty's staff was in a state of panic as the Web was becoming unraveled. Jim needed a show of force to earn their loyalties again. Jim needed to kill Sebastian, to make an example out of the traitor to establish his dominance as the King of Crime. To show that a traitor knight could easily be quashed with his power. Jim would never tell anyone this, but he was scared for the first time in his life. His Web, his life's work, was coming down on him. Moriarty was infuriated that his undoing would be served at the hands of his once loyal Tiger. How infinitely ironic.

Elsewhere, Sherlock and Seb had just taken down another spoke of the Web. There was one last piece: the very middle, the center of the Web with the Spider. The Great Game was in it's final moves. But Jim was not going to go down easy. Jim intended that if he couldn't have Seb, no one could. Jim wanted Seb to be brought to him, alive. The person who did would receive 25 million pounds and a visa to anywhere to escape to anywhere, no questions asked. Naturally all of Jim's staff wanted to escape the unraveling Web before they were killed or captured. One member of the staff manages to throw a hood over Seb's head and subdue him, separating the sniper from his detective when the two were caught in a crossfire between Jim's staff and Sherlock's team of special forces.  

Seb comes to, to see that he is tied to a chair in Jim's office arms behind his back. "Hello, Tiger." Jim's voice purrs. Seb's face turns into a snarl that would have been heard if not for the duct tape over his mouth. Jim smirks and moves to straddle Seb's lap. Jim's fingers are drawn over Seb's sensitive neck to the corner of the tape. Jim wrenches it off, harsh and fast. "You were my favorite pet, Sebby..." Jim pouts.

"Pet! You don't break a pet's bones and cut into it because you feel like it!" Seb growls angrily. "Finally. I was beginning to think the Tiger didn't have claws. Suddenly you have a spine to speak back to me." Jim snarls right back, his coal black eyes glittering with malice. "Suddenly? Oh honey. I've been hiding it for years to keep myself alive." that was partially a lie.

"Liar. We both know that I own you. And I don't like it when my pets speak back to me, You will suffer for that. I will make an example of you. You're worthless to me now. I intend to make you into a rug, Tiger." Jim hissed, his hand closing on Seb's cheeks painfully forcing the sniper to pucker. Seb silently burns Jim with the fire in his eyes. His hatred boiled over, but in this position he couldn't fight back. Jim knew exactly how to keep him tied with a simple trick, he bound Seb's fingers together with wire. Rendering the sniper unable to break the bindings that held him without losing his fingers.  

However, with Seb's face being so close to Jim's, the sniper could read the consulting criminal. You don't spend that time with Sherlock Holmes without picking up on a few tricks of your own. Jim was terrified, and very much alone. The man was desperate, and intended to take it out on Seb who was responsible for his destruction. Seb quickly closed all his walls, hardening himself for the pain that he was surely was going to have endure. Without help, Seb knew that he was going to die, slowly, painfully, intimately, if Jim knew what he was doing and he did. Jim knew exactly what to do to Seb to make him scream. Seb silently called out to Sherlock.

Please come. I need you. I need help.

Jim smirks, seeing the fear in Seb's face. Jim shifts in Seb's lap to pull out a small knife, to balance on the tip of one finger. "Recognize the blade...? It's the one I used to put my mark on you..." Jim purred in his honey arsenic tone as he moves to unbutton Seb's shirt to look at the scar. Jim smiles at the scar lovingly and traces the letters with the tip of the blade, not yet cutting into the sniper. Seb doesn't dare make a sound. "That wasn't a rhetorical question. Answer me." Jim snapped. Seb continued to stay quiet, knowing that if he did he'll be in for much more, but will live longer because Jim wanted to rip screams from him.