Live-In One (MorMor)

The Spark of a New Idea

((Quick Note: Most of this chapter contains the dialogue of the final episode in BBC Sherlock season one, The Great Game. I do not in anyway own this dialogue, I am simply using it to create a plot around it. The rest of this story will most likely be made up of my own ideas, excluding the few chapters here and there containing more dialogue from the show itself.))

Jim's plan was going absolutely splendidly. He had the upper hand here, and everyone in the room knew it. He may be enjoying himself a bit too much, but at the moment he didn't care. Tonight was just the beginning of this marvelous game he had planned. A game that would last for a long, long time, and of course, a game in which he planned on winning.

"Take it." Sherlock stated between his teeth, holding the memory stick out to him. His voice pulling Jim out of his thoughts.

"Huh? Oh! that!" He grinned, moving in front of John and taking the memory stick from Sherlock's hand. "The missile plans..." He brought the stick to his mouth slowly, almost as if taunting the detective, and kissed it. He then slowly brought it back down in front of him, eyeing it. He smiled. "Boring!" He stated in his high pitched sing-song voice. "I could have got them anywhere!" He tossed the memory stick into the pool, grinning.

Seeing his opportunity, John races forward and grabbed Jim by both the neck and chest, before slamming the bomb that was strapped to him against his back. Sherlock had stepped back, his eyes widening slightly in surprise but nevertheless, he kept his gun aimed directly at Moriarty. "Sherlock, Run!" The doctor yelled. Jim only laughed, keeping the grin on his face.

"Good! Very good!" He grinned, looking at John from the corner of his eye before glancing back at Sherlock.

"If your sniper pulls that trigger, Mr. Moriarty, then we both go up." He growled slightly between his teeth.

"Oh, isn't he sweet? I can see why you like having him around. But then, people do get so sentimental about their pets." Jim stated to Sherlock, seemingly calm.

John gritted his teeth, sandwiching the bomb between the both of them. Jim turned his head slightly to face the doctor, sending him a scowl.

"They're so touchingly loyal. But, oops!" His scowl turned into a grin, before looking back at Sherlock. "You've rather shown your hand there, Doctor Watson." A red dot appeared on Sherlock's forehead, indicating that one of Jim's snipers was aiming right at him. Jim had felt John tense behind him, and he turned his head yet again to see a look of horror on the doctor's face.

"Gotcha!" Jim said in his sing-song voice, taunting the man behind him. John releases his grip, backing up with his hands in the air, showing Jim's sniper that he wouldn't try anything else. Jim ran his hands down his suit, straightening it out. He then gestures to it, his eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly together. "Westwood!" He lowered his hands before standing in front of Sherlock. He seemed quite calm for someone that had a gun pointed straight at his head. "D'you know what happens if you don't leave me alone, Sherlock, to you?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes ever so slightly at the criminal's question. "Oh, let me guess: I get killed." He answered, seemingly bored.

Jim frowned. "Kill you? N-No.. Don't be obvious. I mean, I'm going to kill you anyway some day. I don't want to rush it, though. I'm saving it up for something special. No-no-no-no-no. If you don't stop prying, I'll burn you." He glanced Sherlock up and down, almost as if judging him.

"I'll burn the heart out of you." He stated viciously, though at the end of his sentence, he looked almost remorseful.

"I have been reliably informed that I don't have one." Sherlock responded softly.

"But we both know that's not quite true." Jim grinned, shaking his head the slightest bit. He looked down at the floor for a moment, smiling, before looking back up at Sherlock. "Well, I'd better be off." He shrugged, glancing around the room thoughtfully. "Well, so nice to have a proper chat." He smiled, looking back at Sherlock. The detective only raised the gun in his hand a little higher, aiming it closer to Jim.

"What if I was to shoot you now -- Right now?" He squinted at the man, awaiting an answer. Jim seemed unfazed by his question, simply gazing at him.

"Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face." Jim's eyes widened and he opened his mouth, mimicking a shocked expression. He then dropped it, and simply grinned at the detective. "'Cause I'd be surprised Sherlock; really I would." He paused, giving him a slight disgusted look. "And just a teensy bit... disappointed. And of course you wouldn't be able to cherish it for very long." Jim slowly turns away, giving Sherlock a distasteful look before walking towards the side door in which John had entered earlier. "Ciao, Sherlock Holmes."

"Catch... You... Later." Sherlock muttered, watching Jim. His gun still aimed in his direction. The door soon opened, and before it closed Jim's voice could be heard.

"No you won't!" As Jim left the building, he still heard the echoes of Sherlock and John talking. He had definitely made a great impression. He chuckled slightly to himself, reliving the moment in his head. Oh the looks on their faces were priceless. He had just felt so alive in the heat of the moment, he had even been tempted to go back in there just to see their reactions. But there was one thought in his mind that had made this happy moment vanish. Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson. So close in so little time.

They had met during Jim's first attempt at getting Sherlock's attention. 'A Study in Pink' as John had referred to it as on his blog. It had gone well, but John had gotten in the way. Though it wasn't all bad. He had become so close to the detective already in this short span of time, which put Sherlock in a more vulnerable position. That of a worried friend. It had sparked Jim's interest as to how someone so introverted and untrustworthy had made a friend so quickly. It made him wonder if he could ever experience something like that. 

As Jim walked away from the pool, he had made up his mind. He was going to find his own John Watson. His live-in one.