Checkmate

Chapter 12: Aftermath

Jim was sitting at his desk laughing a screeching laugh. "Tiger, did you ever think you'd be able to get rid of me?" Seb snarls, "You aren't real!" "Yes but I don't have to be. Dreams are as scary and vivid as real life. ""I will kill you!" "Honey, I'm already dead." Jim's eyes are glowing red. Seb tries to run but is suddenly frozen to the spot.Jim stands and strides over to Seb. "After everything that has happened, you pathetic thing, you still love me." Jim smirked. "No, no this isn't love! Love is when someone cares for you, when someone is by your side. Supporting you at your best and worse!" Seb roars. "How would you know, hummm? You will never be good enough. You are an animal, Tiger." "That's not true!" Seb's voice was gradually getting less confident. "Is it? Or is that just you trying to grasp at shadows. Don't lie to yourself. Come on, Tiger. Be an animal. Be mine...." Jim purrs and slides up to Seb. Jim's body is coiling tendrils of smoke, oozing all things wrong. As much as Seb hates it, there's dark desire there. Jim can see it too, and before Seb can stop him, Jim is kissing Seb. Seb tries to struggle against the invisible bonds and manages to get free. With some difficulty Jim ends up on the floor with Seb on top of him literally ripping his clothes off. " I want you to feel the pain that I felt when you fucked me till I bled, let's see if you still want to haunt me then. "

Sherlock had heard Seb thrashing around in his sleep. Concerned, he goes to investigate. Sherlock sits on the edge of the bed to shake Seb. Sherlock's eyes go huge as Seb roars and lunges up to tackle him down flat on the large bed. Seb rips his clothes off, snarling "Let's see if you haunt me after I do what you did to me. "

"Sebby! Hey! Stop, it's me! It's your Sherlock." Sherlock yowls in terror. Seb doesn't seems to hear him as he tears Sherlock's pants off. Sherlock understands what's happening but hesitates to stop Seb, he doesn't want to harm the sniper. Seb bites Sherlock's neck, "See what it's like to be marked. To be used like a fucktoy. " Seb growls and pushes his trousers and pants down just enough space for his member. "Sebby...stop, this isn't you....please. Oh God..." Sherlock whimpers.

Suddenly Seb snaps into reality. But by then the damage has been done. Sherlock has several bleeding claw marks down his chest and over his hips. Sherlock has no idea that Seb has snapped back, but has no intention to be abused again. Sherlock's own demons roar to the surface, the mercenary that was able to keep him alive for two years of hell slams his knee harshly into Seb's soft abdomen.  Seb, in his weakened state, is tossed onto the floor with the blow, a hand clutched over his just set ribs, trying to keep them that way.

Despite Sherlock's demon roaring, he remains in control of his actions. The blow was enough to floor the sniper, but not break anything. Sherlock stoops to snatch up the sweats and yanks them back on. "Sherlock I..." There was no point Seb trying to explain his actions. They were inexcusable.

Sherlock looks down at Seb, his eyes narrowed to flinty slits. Oh yes, Sherlock understood what Seb had done and why. Sherlock's walls of ice were back up, the sociopath was back. Sherlock is seriously debating kicking Seb out of his home. But he doesn't have to. As quick as the injured man can he gathers his clothing, and phone then leaves the room without a word. Changing in another room Seb pulls his shoes on, grabs his wallet and leaves the manor, not knowing where he's going.

Sherlock is disappointed, putting it lightly. All that work. Gone. Alone with his thoughts, Sherlock limps into the bathroom to lick his wounds. Seb had warned him about his demons, but oddly enough Sherlock was more disappointed that somehow even in death Jim still had his Seb in his web. Sherlock cleans the bloody claw marks with a washcloth he had used to clean Seb with less than two hours ago. How quickly things can change.

Sherlock still loved the sniper. He didn't trust him though, not right now. At least Seb knew that the detective could and would defend himself. And if Seb was at the manor he would be glad to see that Sherlock still loved him. But Sherlock's trust wasn't an easy thing to earn and was even harder to get back. Seb thinks to himself as he shivers in the now raining streets of London, trying to find a hotel that would let him in despite his haggard look and this ungodly hour. No such luck. All the hotels promptly turned him down. Seb hates himself for it but he turns to comfort at a bar.