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@convolutedcriminal

This was madness. Walking into an abandoned construction building, without knowing what he was going to walk into was only moronic men would do. But his curiosity had bested him. He had his suspicions to whom he might find at the end of this trail; his anonymous benefactor. The one who had gotten him out of his Korean prison, and left him a variety of gifts and clues over the past few months while he made his way back to England. With every gift came a note with a clue, and every clue had led to the next gift. But this one might as well be the last one. 

Checking his phone (also a gift from his benefactor), he read the message that had just pinged onto the display:

Just a bit further~

Not entirely sure what or who he was going to find at the end of the trail, he took his gun out, cocked it and continued his path, turning a corner and finding himself in a large, empty hallway. At the end of it, stood a man.

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                    Truth or happiness. Never both.

               PAGE || ABOUT || BIO || ASK || RULES

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‘Does he honestly think I haven’t got anything better to do than drive your arse around town?

 -- fine, you’re buying.’

Rich pouted. “he said you should guard me as well..  Please.. we will go to a bar later on..”

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Andrew Scott for ‘Sea Wall’ - Waterloo, London. 28th Jan 2015 

Credit: Kevin Cummins

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He could feel the shorter man quiver underneath his touch, and it excited him. Moran always had a thing for being in control, and seeing what a simple touch could do, was quite exhilarating.

As Richard closed his eyes, Moran continued to look at him. He dragged his thumb lightly over Richard’s eyelid, brushing over these long eyelids both brothers had inherited.

His thumb moved over the other’s lip again, and quite unexpectedly, Moran grabs the man’s face, his hand large enough to envelope Richard’s entir jaw. He pushes him back against the wall, and kisses him fiercely, his other hand closing around Richard’s throat. 

Rich kept his eyes locked on Sebastian as the man got up and came closer, watching his every move. When the man’s rough and calloused hand came into contact with Richard’s own cheek, he felt his heart and stomach clench at the realisation that Sebastian was only doing this to be close to Jim one last time before ‘going away’. Sebastian would pretend that Richard was his brother, and Richard would go along with it because unfortunately in the same way, Sebastian was the closest thing Richard had to Jim.

So he pursed his lips and squeezed his eyes shut and fought back the tears, determined to keep up the pretence that he was Jim, for the sake of both of them. He only let out a shaky sigh, a release of some of that emotional energy before he steeled himself and let Sebastian lead their roles. Richard was an actor, after all.

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Did you know that dust  is largely composed of human skin?

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‘I’m not his fucking cabbie -- go ask the driver, Chop.’ 

“Jim wants me to inform you that you shall drive me to an audition.. He doesn’t think the streets are safe..” Rich said and crossed his arms.

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He jerked his head to the side when he felt long, spider-like fingers go through his hair. The other two extractors had left, and now, a third one had joined. Moran recognised the voice, and he smirked with amusement. Even when his head was being yanked back by his hair, he was still smirking, even laughing. 

‘Mycroft Holmes himself -- my, my -- I must be in trouble.’

He knew exactly how much he was in trouble. They were going to use the most extreme ways of torture, but he knew a lot was needed to break him. The Koreans hadn’t been able to break him, so he doubted they could.

‘My castle is fortified,’ he said, joining in on the metaphor. ‘It’s got moats, stone walls, and ranged units.’

Really, Mycroft didn’t want to be dealing with this. This kind of situation was always messy, and the eldest Holmes brother did so hate to get unnecessary dirt on his clothes. Even with his top half stripped down to just his shirt, and his sleeves rolled up, it was inevitable that he was going to leave this evening with dots of blood littering the fabric.

The men doing the dirty work had stepped back for a few minutes (they were, after all, legally required to take a break every now and again) and Mycroft had stepped up behind the prisoner.

“Oh, Mr Moran, we’re not going to waterboard you.” Mycroft crooned, running his fingers through the other man’s hair. Ever little move mattered here, and getting into the subject’s personal space often had a nice effect. It showed how they were not in control - how they weren’t going to get what they want. 

Fingers suddenly clutching together, Mycroft yanked Moran’s head back by his hair. “Not yet, anyway. I think we both know how this would work if I did. You wouldn’t tell us anything, we would be disheartened, eventually we’d probably give up. No. With people like you, it is far more effective to hold a siege on our walls before we attempt to storm the castle.”

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‘What’s this about, then?’ 

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‘You’re the new quartermaster? Has old Q finally crossed the wrong wires?’

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‘I don’t know where he is or how he’s done it. Now fuck off before I ask the lads to have you leave.’

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‘How the hell are you alive?’

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//Like for starter

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‘You want to watch where you’re going, mate -- Wouldn’t want to run into the wrong person, do you?’

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       “Oh, pardon…” John said this would happen, running into people while thinking too deeply.

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What are you?