His || [Sherlock Holmes, SebastianMoran, JimMoriarty]

At least one of the two most brilliant men in London is bored. And Jim, unlike Sherlock, doesn't just sit around and mope when he gets bored--he bloody does something about it. Unfortunately, his job is a lot of 'you, do that' and 'you, do this', and not a whole lot of actually doing things himself--that's what Sebastian is for.
But fuck, everything is just so tedious. He shoots up from the chair he's been sitting in, paces across the room, the maddened tempo of his feet demonstrating just how utterly unamused by his surroundings he is. "Sebastian," he says, whipping around to face the sniper, "Where's Sherlock? Find out, will you?"

((god I hate writing starters hope it's OK))

Sebastian was watching Jim with a grim expression, irritated and bored the man looked as he would more than usual nowadays. When Jim got bored, it could be annoying at times for he'd be pestering him when he felt like it and he'd do things that were well out of order and not called for.
Especially when it came to breaking different objects and Sebastian's possessions just to annoy him further.

"Sure, boss." he answered unenthusiastically, not feeling very bothered to find Sherlock or what he was up to-he simply couldn't care less about what the detective was doing. He hated him, hated Jim's unnatural obsession over him. Sebastian certainly didn't want to find where he was either, probably at Baker Street he thought.

"Are you expecting me to actually go find him or...?" he asked bored, knowing Jim liked things done his way, he could have easily been implying to track him down on phone or anything else. It was stupid, Jim could have texted him. It wasn't that hard.

"I don't care. I just want to know where he is. What he's doing." Jim's eyes light up with the now-frequent blaze of his obsession. He turns on his heel again, quickly walking /stepstepstep to the window.
Perhaps he was off on a case with his doctor. Perhaps twiddling about in his lab, or playing the violin in the study of Baker Street. Hopefully not. Hopefully something interesting. "God, I'm bored!" He spins away from the window, back to where he'd been sitting earlier.
"Find me Sherlock Holmes. He'll help." He repeats his order.

"You have a bloody phone, Jim." he scowled, looking at him pointedly. Jim was being restless, moving practically every second and Sebastian was finding it harder to keep up with his jerky movements all over the flat. "More instruction would be quite helpful." He was annoyed now and had been stressed from the many jobs he had been given in the past week and just wanted to rest or have Jim off his back for a while but that would mean going out and he wasn't bothered.

Help what? he asked himself in his head, wondering what Sherlock could possibly help with. Jim being bored probably, it wasn't that hard to guess after all. Sebastian obviously wasn't entertaining enough and it only annoyed him further. He wasn't going to go looking for the detective, tracking him would be easier. "Can I borrow your phone?"

"Yes, fine," he says shortly, tossing his phone in the general direction of Sebastian. He's bored. So bored. It's not that Sebastian's boring, precisely, just...Sherlock is more interesting. Sherlock is fascinating, a puzzle to be solved, and once puzzles are solved, of course, they can be taken apart.

Sherlock was pacing the flat impatiently, nothing to do. No cases for three days. "It's only three days Sherlock" John kept saying, but three days was quite long enough thank you. Long enough for him to be going positively out of his mind with the tedium of it all. Where were all the bloody criminals?

He'd already done three experiments and five pieces on the violin, now he'd exhausted all possible activities and was well and truly bored. He sighed and threw himself down on the sofa, wrapping his dressing gown up to his knees and looked at his watch. Hopefully John would be home soon then at least he could amuse himself by making fun of his blog.

Sebastian caught the phone swiftly and started to track down where Sherlock was and without any surprise of what he had guessed where he would be, found him there. "Baker Street." he said a few minutes later as he had predicted, tossing the other's phone back to him.

"You should have texted him if you wanted to find out where he was." he muttered irritably under his breath, hoping Jim was not intending on inviting Sherlock over although he wouldn't be surprised if he did and it would be much to Sebastian's dislike. The sniper was in enough of a foul mood as it was and really wasn't trying to hide it either. The last thing he wanted was the lousy detective over and annoying him further just by his presence of happening to be there in the flat.

"Lovely," he breathes, eyes alight again. "Let's go pay him a visit, shall we--is the dear doctor home as well? Perhaps retrieve my detective and bring him back for tea?" Sebastian's ire passes totally unnoticed, not uncommon for this pair.

"You want me to go the whole way to Baker Street just to get that git and bring him back here when you could just as easily text him to come over?" he sighed frustrated-not mentioning anything about 'the dear doctor' because he didn't know and not caring if he insulted the detective and Jim didn't like it. The last thing he wanted to do was see the man's face never mind have him over or talk to his boss. He didn't like it at all.

"You know as well as I that he's unlikely to respond if I were just to text him. I suppose I could give it a try, but that's so boring. And I said 'we', dear, not 'you'. I'm not passing up a chance for a visit."
He practically races down the hallway after his coat.

Sherlock idly scanned through the messages on his phone. Nothing. All old. No new things coming through. Nothing at all. Damn it. He needed distractions.

He leapt up and headed to the desk where John's laptop was resting innocently and decided to hack into it again. He'd come up with a new password recently so it would be interesting to see how long it would take him to guess it. He set the timer and got to work.

52 seconds. Dull.

With a defeated sigh, Sebastian lazily forced himself up off the couch-picking up his hand gun and slipping it into his pocket as he normally would when going anywhere that wasn't on a job and strolled after Jim down the hall.
"I don't think he's going to be too happy about seeing you and myself at his door."

"Fortunately, his happiness is not precisely my top priority," Jim sings as they descend the stairs of the building. "I'd like to keep him entertained, though, don't want him getting as b o r e d as I."
Sherlock just...fascinates him. Everything he does is so interesting.

"I'm sure I would be useless at entertaining a detective so I'll leave you to it." Sebastian mumbled, thinking about what Jim was planning on doing or what he'd possibly do to involve Sebastian.

If it happened involve violence-which it probably mightn't-Sebastian would be happy enough to help with that. Then he wouldn't be in such a bad mood having to go fetch the man in the first place.

"Have you anything in mind?"

"Maybe we could do tea. That would be fairly interesting."
He's excited now, yes--fairly vibrating with energy. When he enters Baker Street, though, that'll drop. He'll become almost a cartoon villain, threatening and undeniably e v i l. For the moment he's more like a child in a candy store.
"How do you think he'll react when we just...walk in? Never locks the door, silly little angel of mine."

"Interesting?." Sebastian scoffed, fairly not looking forward to it. It wasn't exactly his cup of tea to have someone he despised with so much loathing any more than a metre away without having the urge to shoot them.
Especially someone his boss was undeniably obsessed with.

"I guess we'll just have to find out." he said with a clearly bored tone, fighting back the urge to mimic 'Silly little angel of mine'. He almost wanted to be sick at the words, Jim's obsession over the man was revolting.

"Mmnhmm. That's true. He's so unpredictable. That's what I l o v e." Jim bounces on the balls of his feet, whipping around with bright eyes to look at his sniper, who doesn't look happy at all.

Sebastian said nothing in return to Jim's words, he simply stood beside the smaller man and nodded as he turned around to face him, an excited expression on his face that Sebastian suddenly felt like punching out of annoyance for bringing him here.
But of course he wouldn't. It would be uncalled for.

Sherlock scanned through John's laptop, trying to find something vaguely interesting. He located a few emails he'd been sending to his latest girlfriend and snorted at the ridiculousness of them before moving on to check out his web history, noticing he'd been on a couple of porn sites again recently.

"Tut tut John," he said aloud. "What would the readers of your blog think?"

Sherlock yawned and slammed down the lid of the laptop. Boring.

Jim doesn't bother knocking when they reach the door of Baker Street, just draws in a deep breath, much like an excited schoolgirl, and puts his 'Sherlock face' on. It's not his normal expression, not really, it's the one reserved for acting the part of the consummate villain--which, of course, he is, but he's not nearly so obvious about it usually. He pushes open the door, grabbing Seb by the wrist and pulling him through.

Sebastian said nothing as they reached the door, waiting impatiently for Jim to lead the way. He would have rather turned and walked straight back to the flat, not wanting to see Sherlock of all people. He couldn't stand him.

Sebastian was certainly not as excited as Jim was, the other man looked a bit overexcited and not himself. It was unnatural and clearly fake.
He waited until he was dragged inside, trying to be quiet as he knew Jim would want him to be and glowered up the stairs, sensing the detective was up there.

Sherlock was slouched on the armchair, flicking through the channels on the TV endlessly, repeating the word "dull" over and over again at every station he turned to. Every single programme was dull. There was no hope.

Suddenly he heard something. The creaking of a stair? He turned off the telly and strained his ears. Yes, definitely footsteps. Not a client, he decided. They weren't urgent enough. These were slow methodical footsteps, two pairs. Definitely men. One man significantly shorter than the other.

Now who on earth would be coming to visit him at this time during the day, when John wasn't here, two men, who weren't clients, one tall, one short. Two men with slow, methodical steps, creeping up his staircase without knocking on the front door, rude enough, bold enough, cheeky enough to let themselves in?

"Good afternoon Jim," Sherlock called out, without looking round.

"Afternoon, dearest~" He sings, entering the sitting room, dropping Sebastian's arm. "Wondered if you'd mind if we dropped by, do you? No? Good~"
He sweeps by, sitting in the chair across from Sherlock, motioning Sebastian to stand beside him.

Sebastian paused when they went up and Sherlock was within view, his nose wrinkling in disgust as he glanced around nosily, suspicious for anything that wasn't right. He certainly didn't feel right in the other's flat though, nothing did.

He responded to Jim's gesture and walked over, standing beside him expressionlessly in order to not show how annoyed he really was and his hand ready to grab his gun-which was in his pocket-if need be.

Sherlock looked up wearily and glanced the pair of them up and down, idly deducing. He sat up in his armchair and stared Jim down.

"To what do I owe the displeasure?" he muttered, standing up to make the tea.