His || [Sherlock Holmes, SebastianMoran, JimMoriarty]

"Displeasure--yes, I suppose it would be for you, now wouldn't it? Don't lie, you know I fascinate you."
Just like you fascinate me.
"No, dear, just wondering whether you wouldn't like to...invade our headquarters for once. Cordial invitation."
Of course, not their real 'headquarters'. He's not that stupid.

Sherlock smirked slightly and silently weighed up the invitation in his mind. He had often wondered what kind of a place Moriarty lived in. He glanced at the tall sniper, amusingly wondering whether it was a two bedroomed place or whether they shared the same bed.

Sherlock looked at his watch. He had absolutley nothing on today and it would be ages before John was back. The decision was made fairly quickly.

"That would be interesting Jim, I accept your offer," he replied with a smile.

Sebastian gave Sherlock a nasty smirk as he happened to quickly look over to him, anger starting to burn inside him like fire and lick at his insides. It was uncomfortable and not the nicest feeling he could be having at that moment.

He silently scowled when the detective agreed although it probably didn't go unnoticed-he had been secretly hoping Sherlock would decline the offer and stay here in Baker Street without coming over and bothering him.
Although he was sure Jim would be keeping the whereabouts of their flat somewhere else and bringing Sherlock to a completely different location.

"Well, then, nary you dally, love!" Excited, his cool facade drops, and the hyperactive child shines through. Sebastian looks less than happy, but it barely registers, and Sherlock merely seems amused.
Wonder what he's thinking. Oh, god, I want to know what he's thinking, so badly.

Sherlock frowned at Jim's sudden change in character, transforming from a steely threatening consulting criminal into a giggling camp little boy right in front of his eyes. It was....odd. And Sherlock didn't quite understand what to make of it.

Never the less he stood up and grabbed his coat from the back of the chair putting it on. "Well then...what are we waiting for? Let's go."

((...Seb? I think it's your go. If you want to. If not, I will.))

((I´ll let you go first. I´ll probably go after anyway.))

Jim leads the way back to the 'flat' with a minute bounce in his step--Sherlock behind him, and Sebastian behind him, likely keeping an eye on the detective. Paranoid. Sherlock would be under control--most likely. Shame his tiger and his angel don't get along well enough--because from one toy to another, shouldn't there be a bit of solidarity?

Sebastian was alert as soon as Jim started to get up, keeping himself positioned so he was following the shorter man from behind with every step and feeling glad they were finally leaving Baker Street. He wasn´t fond of it at all. Especially when he felt uncomfortable in Sherlock´s flat of all places.

He occasionally cast over dirty looks to the detective, not entirely caring if he happened to notice. If he didn´t like someone-in this case it was more despising Sherlock, not just not ´liking´the man-he liked to make it clear.

Sherlock tugged up the collar of his coat and followed Jim quite eagerly, his heart pounding with adrenalin wondering what adventures might befall them next. He knew it was dangerous to just go wandering off with his arch enemy and his arch enemy's favourite sniper but Sherlock liked danger, he could handle himself, and anything was better than being bored.

He found it curious that Jim apparently had a flat that was within walking distance to Baker Street and he took careful note of the number of steps they were taking, the amount of right and left turns. He may need to find this place again someday.

Good luck with that, pretty boy.
Jim keys in the code when they reach the flat, immediately heading for the kitchen, where he's almost sure he's got some tea. Seb usually makes it, he's got next to no idea where it is, especially given that neither of them have been at this flat for...at least four days, and that was hardly in the morning for 'tea' to be a concern.
He's rather excited for this to play out...

((I AM SO SORRY THAT I'M NOT ON MORE. >< Tumblr is sucking my attention span away.))

Sebastian followed into the flat after his boss and waited on Sherlock to pass through, smirking nastily as he gestured towards the living room. Even though they were never in this flat much, he had already memorized where every room and anything else was for every time they'd be back here.

Then the sniper headed into the kitchen not long after Jim and made sure to close the door behind him, deliberately keeping his voice low so the detective wouldn't overhear or decide to eavesdrop.

"Are we just having a nice chat and some tea or have you something actually exciting planned?" He asked rather sarcastically, horrible thoughts of what he'd like to do floating about in his head and giving Sebastian the temptation to go ahead with them. "I mean, it's not entirely worth having him over if you're just going to talk the whole time and let him go unharmed, boss."

"Well, dear, I wasn't planning on anything, really. Just a bit of a mind game~" Jim hums it and grins, turns back to Sebastian. "Would you happen to know where the tea is, Tiger? Because if there's no better reason for you to be in here, I think it'd be best if you would watch my dear detectiv--or, no, wait, you make the tea, I'll go talk with him."

"A mind game?" Sebastian sighed disappointedly, not entirely looking forward to watching his boss and Sherlock talk about things he had no idea about and couldn't really join in with. Not that he wanted to talk to the detective.

"It's in that cupboard." The sniper pointed to which one he meant and only scowled when he was told to make it himself instead. "Fine." He muttered irritably--his earlier annoyance returning--before going to the cupboard to pull out the teabags and prepare everything with a grim expression.

Sherlock wandered around Jim and Seb's flat, inspecting things with a keen eye, rather fascinated. He chose a comfortable looking leather chair and sat down, stretching out his arms.

He checked his watch then tried to strain his ears to overhear what the two criminals were discussing in the kitchen. When Jim re-emerged into the living room he smiled briefly and imperceptably at his nemesis and began to remove his coat and scarf. Might as well get comfortable.

"So Jim," he began. "Do you actually live here? Do you share a room?" He teased.

"Of course we don't r e a l l y live here. How foolish of me would it be to bring you to our actual locale? I'm not an idiot, darling." Jim shrugs, sits in the chair opposite Sherlock, grins widely at this little extra sidetrack to his game.
He very deliberately doesn't answer the second question.
Leaving his options open?
Making himself available?
Who can tell.

Sebastian deliberately delayed bringing the tea into the next room where his boss and Sherlock were sitting, having the urge to eavesdrop and see if he could hear anything interesting. Nothing.

The sniper sighed and walked into the living room, set the mug of tea on the coffee table for Sherlock to avoid having to make any physical contact and then handed Jim his own without a word.
He hadn't made himself any because he simply didn't want some and automatically stood beside the chair the criminal was in, just as he had done at the detective's flat. A regular habit Sebastian seemed to have when Jim had any visitors--usually clients--or went to some sort of meeting. Unless Sebastian wasn't necessarily needed and sent out of the room, that was.

Sherlock chuckled slightly at Jim's response, locking eyes with him and not saying anything. The silence was broken when Sebastian returned with the tea and coffee. He nodded a thank you without actually looking at him, then finally broke eye contact with Jim to turn and pick up the coffee from the table, taking a small sip before putting it back down.

Then he sat back in his chair and smirked, regarding them both with his searching eyes, glancing Sebastian up and down as he lurked next to his boss's shoulder.

"So...is there any particular reason you brought me here today?" he asked, bored. "Or just purely for your own entertainment? What are you going to do? Kill me? Threaten me? Beat me? Torture me? Or just...drink tea with me? I really don't mind," he added arrogantly, "I can handle any of them so...not...a...problem."

"Why would I kill you, love?" Jim puts a shocked expression on his face, raising an eyebrow in skepticism. "You're so much fun. Just a tea party. You're my favourite playmate, you know that."
Sebastian is ignored behind him, a guard dog that shadows him predictably--Sherlock is unpredictable and thus more interesting.
And, not to mention it, far closer to his own level.
Sebastian's a smart man, a loyal employee--Jim's fond of him. But he's not Sherlock.

Sherlock smiled slightly and took another sip of his drink.

"Well I suppose I was awfully bored," he admitted with a shrug.

He glanced Sebastian up and down then added with a cheeky smirk, "and I must admit your pet makes a wonderful cup of tea. Almost as good as John's."

Sebastian found himself annoyed by Jim's words, not just that the criminal wasn't going to do anything horrible to Sherlock or planning a slow, painful death, and also not letting the sniper do anything, but how he talked to the detective. It aggravated him and rose Sebastian's growing temper.

"Pet?" He suddenly interrupted with a scoff, immediately regretting it.
Jim wouldn't like that. Although he did feel quite like a dog standing beside his boss so obediently and waiting on any orders given.

No. Sebastian refused to be called 'pet'. No matter who it was calling him it. He was not a dog.

Jim ignores, again, Sebastian's ire at the word--after all, it wasn't him who said it and thus not his responsibility to assuage the man's damaged pride--
His full attention is, at the moment, focused on Sherlock. "Doesn't he?" he replies, ignoring the interruption.

((Jim will pay for this))

Sherlock enjoyed the infuriated reaction he got from Sebastian when he referred to him as Jim's pet, knowing full well the sniper was unlikely to try anything until Moriarty gave the go ahead. And even if he did try something, Sherlock was quite sure he could defend himself.

"Yes," he agreed, deciding to continue in this delightful game. "Oh yes, you've got him very well trained." Sherlock smirked and took another sip of tea, deciding to take advantage of his situation to plunge for information.

"So tell me," he said casually. "Last week's theft at the Tate. Worth 3 million quid apparently. Anything to do with you?"

Sebastian's lip curled into a snarl as he glared at Sherlock with loathing eyes, absent mindedly clenching and unclenching his fists from the enraged anger he felt at the moment.
The sniper was usually good at keeping his self-control but now it felt more difficult as the seconds passed excruciatingly slow.

He merely held himself back from crossing the room and throttling the man that sat opposite of Jim, his eyes never tearing their cold gaze.
He cursed under his breath, annoyed and irritated by the detective's amused tone and the fact that he was still here.