Consulting Sniper (Moran's Story)

Chapter 23: Ruined Lives

Four years later, Jim and I lived together in a fancy apartment in London. I still owned Conduit Street, but I didn't want to live in that shit hole unless Jim evicted me or some other absurd reality were to occur. The syndicate was bigger and more profitable than it had ever been.

I was not liked in the syndicate. Jim clearly favored me sometimes, and my appearance didn't help. People used to accuse him of using the name "Sabrina Moran" to cover for his actually hiring Mycroft Holmes.

Few of my friends remained in Jim's syndicate after various arguments about this subject. Becca stayed, but only because she owed me a few favors; more than a few at that.

By then, Jim's team of snipers consisted of all new people. None of the old team remained. They were taking on another assignment completely.

Browner, Rucastle, and Roylott were all dispatched to become involved in cases regarding new Consulting Detective Sherlock Holmes.

You see, Mycroft got boring. Jim was becoming very impatient with her in her new lifestyle of never going more than a kilometer outside Pall Mall. She had firmly entrenched herself into surroundings she knew.

Out of fear? Maybe. Out of petrification that I would kill her? Absolutely.

Bottom line, Mycroft Holmes was so boring and... normal. Jim had no use for her, and frankly neither did I. And I didn't really want to get involved with her Diogenes Club again.

Jim and I set our sights on Sherlock. We used our men to shake her up a bit; clog her schedule with cases to solve so that it would give Jim time to come up with a plan to confront her and finally kill her.

In her way, we threw various cases such as the "Red-Headed League" (in which her adversary was none other than our own expatriate John Clay), the "Adventure of the Speckled Band" (involving ex-sniper Roylott), the "Adventure of the Copper Beeches" (featuring Rucastle), and finally the "Adventure of the Cardboard Box" (involving a poor Browner who was bribed into it).

Consequently, we had been pissing off New Scotland Yard with other cases. We threatened Watson's life, as well. But he never took anything seriously and never told Sherlock.

Finally, we sent him the one letter he needed to read. The one that said that Sherlock was going to die at Reichenbach in the next Spring.

But that Christmas, Jim and I went out to eat at the same restaurant where I got my first unofficial job from him. I was surprised, since we still never really went out on actual dates.

Nonetheless, I was not going to turn him down. When we entered the restaurant, I recognized it immediately.

"Is this the same place-"

"Yes, it is," Jim said. We were seated at a table next to the window, and took out menus.

The waiter came over and took our drink orders. Jim, to my surprise, ordered a very expensive bottle of wine instead of telling me that we were going to drink water.

"Your budget is going to be absolutely killed, Jim, you know that, right?"

"It was already dying anyway," he said, laughing dryly.

"But you don't like it when your associates drink or smoke! How you put up with me is another enigma in and of itself."

"True. But it's Christmas Eve. Enjoy yourself."

"Who the hell are you and what have you done with Jim Moriarty?" I asked my boss, smiling.

I got a text message then from Mycroft. We had been talking that night about resolving the Sherlock situation between us and not actually involving her at all.

You ruined her life, you know. -MH

This again. I texted her that I'd speak to her on the phone in a minute. I walked outside and received her call.

"Hello?"

"You know Sherlock was on drugs for all those years because she looked up to you. You ruined her life already without her even knowing it. You don't have to do it again."

"Yes I do. And this time, she's going to know it. You know, before people die they always tell me I don't have to do it. Yes I do. I have to do it because I want to do it. I want Sherlock to die. And someday, I'll see you die too."

"Not in front of the world like Sherlock will."

"Ah, so you do admit that I will see you die regardless?"

"That's not the point."

"And that's why I don't deal with you anymore. You're boring. You won't die in front of the world because you're too afraid to show your face. Would you just fucking go outside for once? And I mean outside outside, not St. James's park or taking a walk up Pall Mall."

"I was just at 221B for the Greek Interpreter case. You must know about that."

"You bet I do. It was entertaining to watch her struggle with that one."

"You're insane."

"Not like you've never told me that one before."

"I'll offer once more. You and Moriarty settle with me, or I'll do all I can to make sure that it's his blood that I watch stain the earth and not Sherlock's."

"No, Mycroft. Because Sherlock will die, and Jim and I will watch patiently until the life drains out of her," I said, hanging up.

I walked back inside, and Jim was still sitting at our table. Our drinks were on the table, and Jim was playing with something in his hand. It looked like a small metal bullet or something. He looked up and began to talk to me when I sat down.

"Nice of you to return at such a good time," he said.

"What are you talking about?" I asked Jim, still not registering what he was doing. I shoved my phone into my bag, looking away for a second.

When I looked back at the table, I froze. Jim was holding a small box out to me. I looked up at Jim and back at the box, confused, but then he spoke.

"Will you marry me, Sabrina Moran?" he asked me, taking the lid off the box, revealing the ring.