Sherlock Oneshots (Euriarty, MorMor, Severich)

Every Night- Mormor

A/N: I thought this might have some place in my first MorMor fanfic, but it didn't fit in anywhere. It's actually the first Mormor I ever wrote. It's a bit angsty. Okay I lied. It's a lot angsty. Basically Jim trying to live without Sebastian in his life anymore. Try not to cry too much over it. I didn't, but then I write with my made-up second personality that's heartless. I don't know how to close this... bye.

Jim leaned forward onto his arm, his fingers in his tousled hair. A feeling of drowsiness, born from his vodka, settled upon him. This felt like every night now. Every lonely, rainy (Damnit London), drunk night. Lately, his hallucinations had gotten worse. They weren't small, trivial things like blood coating his hands or something moving out of the corner of his eye, but he had started to see Sebastian. He'd be there when Jim woke up. Jim would roll over, see him there with him, blink, and Sebastian would be gone. Jim wished he didn't particularly care. It scared him, but he secretly enjoyed seeing Seb's face once in a while. Pictures from year-old dossiers began to be too little to spark Jim's memory.

Jim asked himself what he was doing again. He turned his head and saw his shot glass beside him. He still wasn't entirely sure why it was there.

Ah. Yes. He had considered drinking the red wine he'd bought the previous day. Jim remembered seeing the brand in the store and remembered it used to be Sebastian's favorite. Maybe he'd thought it'd help him cope or something like that. Damnit. Now it was going to go to waste.

Jim remembered the last time they'd drank it together. The last thing he remembered that night was Seb's warm, quick breaths in his ear, and then passing out on the floor. He remembered Seb's earlier words. "Let's hope the bombing tomorrow goes well." Why had the bombing been important again? Something to do with the Russian government. Seb spoke Russian fluently. Just another one of his perks.

Jim told himself to stop thinking about Sebastian, to stop thinking of him as Seb, or even Sebby, refusing to enter his painful nostalgia again. And yet, his thoughts were led to that day again.

Jim remembered feeling that Seb shouldn't go into work that day. Jim could just send another sniper in. Jim didn't voice this, however. So Seb went in. As usual, Jim kept a good few blocks away, but close enough that he could be there quickly in a few minutes in case of an emergency.

Jim and Seb hadn't talked at all that morning because of their argument the previous night about how Seb thought Jim was cheating on him with Sherlock. It wasn't the first time Jim slept on the couch and cried alone. It wasn't the first time Seb accused Jim of being an emotionless psychopath who only wanted to be with him to feel high. It wasn't the first time Jim couldn't find it in him to shout back.

So Seb left for his mission without a single apologetic word to him. But when Jim got a text from Seb, saying "HELP" in all caps (not even bothering to use their emergency signal), it was mere minutes before Jim arrived on the roof of the building to check on Seb. Jim found him slumped over the side of the building, blood slicking back his blond hair. Jim ran to him and pulled him away from his sniper, letting it fall to the side. Jim immediately smeared blood on his hands and suit pants, but he didn't care. Jim turned him over, holding Seb in his arms. The most blood appeared to be near his heart.

"Sebby!" Jim screamed, his hands shaking. "Wake up!"

Seb opened his eyes, coughing blood into Jim's face.

"Sebby," Jim whispered, putting a hand to his face.

Seb's eyes found Jim's face.

"Oh God!" Jim said, his eyes filling with tears. "What happened?"

"Someone was ready this time," Seb rasped. "Shot me from a few buildings over."

"Why didn't you call an ambulance?" Jim screamed, tears running down his face.