Consulting Savior (Jimlock/Sheriarty)

Chapter Two - To Make A Criminal Cry

"You're addicted to pain
Too blind to see you're lost in the shadows.
Too addicted to face
In time you're gonna lose it all."

-Alter Bridge, 'Addicted To Pain'

Jim slowly drifted off to sleep on top of Sebastian, his palms flat against his lover's chest. Sebastian had drifted off as well, his hands resting on the small of Jim's back, both of them snoring lightly. Jim was having a rather good dream, given the recent events of happiness and love. Sebastian, however, was not. His mind was full of images of his father, how he looked at him with such disgust when he had come out about his new-found sexuality. He was only a teenager, a young boy who looked up to his father for all of his life. And now, here he sat, being told he was a disgrace to the Moran family.

"Disgusting. Absolutely revolting," dream-Dad said, his gray hairs beginning to take over his previously black hair. "I just can't believe it. My son, one of them."

"Father, you can't really mean that," Sebastian's dream-self said, internally panicking. What if he was kicked out? He had nowhere else to go, no one to go to. He was all alone, and if his father could no longer stand to live in the same house, then Sebastian would end up at the mercy of the streets.

In that moment, his worst nightmares sprang to life. His father grunted, and pointed towards the door. "I want you out."

"But Father-"

"Now," he growled, going to stand up. Sebastian took the hint along with his leave, going to his room to pack. He only packed one bag, with the bare necessities. He figured all he needed was some clothes, some money from his safe, and a few other requirements, and he walked out of his room and paused at the front door, his hand on the doorknob.

His father glared at him. "What are you waiting for? I said out!" He yelled, grabbing an empty vase and hurling it at him, glass raining down on Sebastian's coat as it shattered only inches from the top of his head. He almost yelped, but only gasped and closed his eyes, rushing out of the door and into the merciless streets of London.

Sebastian rushed down the pavement with his bag rolling behind him, wanting to get as far away from the house as possible. Snow wet his coat as it melted, but Sebastian chose to ignore the iciness that was creeping up on him, both physically and emotionally. That should do the trick. Just cut off all emotions, feel nothing, be nothing. That would be his only way of survival.

But, right as nineteen year old Sebastian was about to sink into a cheap-looking motel, he heard shuffling behind him. He stopped in his tracks, turning around on his heel to check behind him. No one was there, but he could have sworn he saw the tail of a coat disappearing around the corner. "Who's there?" he asked no one in particular.

He was answered with silence, but after a few moments a face of about his age peered around the corner. "Who are you?" he asked the person, who then stepped into full view. Sebastian noted that he was, in fact, around his age, was rather short, and had short cropped dark brown hair. And, he looked rather familiar, but Sebastian couldn't quite place a name on him.

"You don't remember me?" The boy asked, with a slightly crooked smile that Sebastian found rather attractive. "I'm Jim. Jim Moriarty."

Sebastian walked up to him, extending a hand. "Sebastian Moran," he said, observing the boy's face. "Why were - no, why are you following me?"

"Oh, I wasn't following you. I was only... Watching," Jim replied, shaking his hand firmly.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Sebastian said, withdrawing his hand and shoving it in his jacket pocket.