Gin and Bitterness

Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Rating: T
Setting: Twisted Sinews universe
Characters: Molly Hooper, Jim Moriarty
Primary Pairings: Molly Hooper/Jim Moriarty
Word Count: 481

General Summary: Molly has always suspected that there was something not quite right about Jim, but she never could put her finger on it.

Author’s Note: Another Molly/Moriarty piece? In my July 2012 archive? It's more likely than you think. Anyway, like almost all of my Jim/Molly stuff, it holds up. At least to me.


Molly wasn’t sure that she liked the way Jim looked at her sometimes. It often happened without warning, this shift in his mood, and they would be doing something completely ordinary, like eating dinner, when Molly would catch the strange man with whom she had entangled herself examining her in the same way that she remembered seeing hawks eye prey animals in nature documentaries. The first several times it happened, it had been unnerving, but eventually she had learned to return the gaze.

Still, there was something about Jim.

Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Rating: G-T
Setting: The Grit in the Lens universe/series
Characters: Sebastian Moran, Jim Moriarty
Word Count: 1432

General Summary: The trouble with playing favourites, Jim long ago acknowledged, is that sometimes even they fuck up.

An alternate point-of-view companion piece to TheGhostofEurope's "Too Much to Swallow."

Author’s Note: The Grit in the Lens universe was begun as a dual story-telling project in which my friend Seb, who started the project, wrote from the point of view of Sebastian, and I from the point of view of Jim. The general idea of this project being to examine the flawed (or not-so-flawed) ways in which each character views the other. I confess to having been the weak link and only having written this one piece because I'm a piece of shit basically. Anyway, this was written 6 March 2012.


On the way back to the hotel, I cracked the passenger side window, the tang of coastal Argentina mingling with the sourly metallic odour of rapidly clotting blood. The smell persisted as we crossed the hotel lobby; Sebastian was already light-headed and struggling to keep up with my pace as I hurried into the nearest elevator before the sight and scent of crusted blood could be detected by bystanders. Once inside, Sebastian slumped against the wall as the numbers slowly ticked off towards our floor.

Ground
1
2
3
4

The doors slid open, and hounded by Sebastian’s increasingly shuffling footsteps, I made the journey down the hall and into the room, slipping inside before locking it securely again.