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Saturday, October 6, 2012

Later in June, another incident.

Thought experiment.  Don't read this if you haven't seen all of season 2!  This may count as a spoiler for season 3 also, but that depends on your viewpoint.

He scowled.  It didn't matter that everyone wanted to kill her.  Practically everyone.  Which took a level of skill, angering that many people, but still...

Half aware that he was mussing his curls, he ran his hand through his hair.  Hair didn't matter.

Having her loose just bothered him.  She wasn't one of theirs.  She wasn't -- he grimaced -- trustworthy.

Jim had said, "Let her go.  You can always kill her another day.  Save her for that."  He'd laughed.  "Besides, the longer she's out there, the better chance you have, in case you need to find Sherlock.  You know he can't resist her, no matter what he thinks."

He still wanted to kill her.

She was a loose end.  Loose ends just made him want to resolve things.  Permanently.

Sebastian Moran patted his gun bag.  So what if that was melodramatic?  He owed it to Jim to go hunting.

Dead people should stay dead.  Life wasn't a damned video game where they got to get up again.  Bullets should -- when applied properly -- solve problems.

Even though Jim would have said this was all just a game.  It really wasn't.  Not unless you were the one winning.

Sebastian put in a call, and sat back.  He'd have better intel soon.  She shouldn't have kept her old cell number.  Stupid.  He shook his head.

The stupid ones were so easy.  The ones that thought they were clever were more work...  She thought she was both.  Soon, after he'd started, she'd know better.  But those didn't really matter, not as long as he had a good chase.

He pulled out another J.D. Carr book to read.  He liked He Who Whispers.  It was a bit sick.  Of course, that was how many Carr books were.  But the cleverness, ahhh, that was quite engaging.

Damn.  The sort of thing Jim would say, definitely.  Rubbed off on him.

Sebastian sighed.  He missed Jim...  His hand clenched on the bedspread as he looked out the window again.  He made himself relax.  Soon.

Shooting things was so therapeutic, he'd always felt.

Killing was even more so.


This would be set on the day of the fall, considerably later, after Barts.

SM has been on at me for some time about this, so I thought I might as well oblige him.  It's also hunting season now... although I suspect that with SM, it's always hunting season.  :D

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