You Can't Choose Your Friends

No Killing

What a bunch of losers. Why didn't they play music and serve coffee and pie at my funeral? God, who even planned that damn thing anyways. James let me take the stupid scarves off as soon as we got back to where we have been staying for the best week. Yesterday's funeral was horrid. On the bright side my stitches have healed and I could probably escape somehow.

"So, we start today." James barges in on my strung out the window.

"Start what?" I ask.

"You cleaning up my messes." James comes to stand next to me, "So, I can see you're uncomfortable with killing people that aren't me. We will fix that, dear, but for now you seem to have a lot of information with cleaning up murders. You get to bury it and clean up finger prints and blood. You get to bleach the knife and you get to get caught if you're too slow."

"Don't call me dear, jack ass." I sneer, walking back to my bed and sitting on it, picking up a book I told James to get me. He's really sucking up to me. I'm sick of it. "Kill me already. Sherlock is right. John is right, if I guess right. They're going to hate me if I'm alive and they're going to hate me if I'm dead and to be completely honest I'd rather alive than dead because then I can't feel the hate on my shoulders so please, shoot me in the head."

"I have an, um, job tonight. I expect you to be ready." James is about to leave when I go up and tap his shoulder.

"What leverage do you have?" I ask, "Why should I stay?"

"Because I can still snap my fingers and have Johnny boy fall to the ground with a bullet wound in his head." James smirks, "And then I can click my heels and Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock go boom. With one phone call, I can poising Mrs. Turner."

"M-M-Mrs. Turner?" The woman that raised me? The woman that took me in when mom and dad weren't home? My Mrs. Turner. "Fine. You got me. I'll be ready by tonight." James is gone in a flash. I get changed (apparently James has been prepping for this moment because there is a large closet full of clothes that happen to fit me) and go deeper into my book all before Moran stalks into my room and slaps the book out of my hands, making me lose the damn page.

"Sebastian." I go over and find my page, setting it down to keeping there and turning back to the asshole that thought that would be funny. "Do you know how much I wish I had a syringe filled with air? I will make sure you-"

"Just because your James's little pet doesn't mean you get everything you want. He won't kill me." Moran smirks.

"He won't. But you made me lose my page in my book. You will pay for that." I laugh manically before glaring at him cooly.

"Watch your back." Sebastian stalks out of my room.

"Will you two stop threatening to kill each other?" James appears in my door way.

"Why?" I seethe, "He totally started it. And it's kind of pissing me off."

"Oh, calm down." James rolls his eyes, grabbing me by the sleeve and dragging me out of my room, down the hall and out the front door of the so called abandoned house James apparently lives in. "So, what's the best way to clean up a stabbing?"

"Bleach the knife and anything the you touched with bare hands. Get rid of your weapon, clean up the blood. Blood can lead to messy stuff. Your hair can get caught in it or some crap. Um, it would be helpful if you wear gloves. And you can make it look like suicide if you stab them in the correct place." I shrug, "Crap! I mean... uh... I don't know."

"Get off the internet and get a life!" James laughs, pulling me into an apartment building and leading me to the third floor, revealing a dead body laying on the floor. Her hand is already around the knife and it's stuck in the poor woman chest. I put my hand to my mouth. Moriarty hands me a pair of gloves and I see we been wearing gloves this whole time.