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It was a cold evening, very typical for a winter in London, but the air was surprisingly clear, the levels of pollution probably lowered by the recent storm of snow. The city was silent, the bright white covering its street made it look more innocent than the cradle of filth it really was.
Hands in the pockets of his inseparable leather jacket, stubbornly chosen despite the insufficient warmth it would provide in such a climatic condition, Basher stopped a few moments next to Mrs.Hudson's window.
She was on the phone, gracefully lamenting with her friend the common misfortune of 'having a hip', to which the man couldn't help but smile.
An inviting smell of biscuits and Earl Grey hit his nostrils and made him let out a longing sigh. His loyalty to James Moriarty was unconditional, but he unmentionably liked the 'Baker Street gang' , especially the old lady, not to mention how worried he was to lose the Boss to his unhealthy obsession for Sherlock Holmes.
Sebastian shook his head and kept walking, lighting a cigarette ; what did his feelings matter, anyway?
To Jim, he wasn't suitable as a friend:
he was his tiger, his wild, lethal pet and nothing else.
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Sherlock one shots
FanfictionTiny little random writings based on the Sherlock BBC fandom, involving canon and original characters.
