Posts tagged brain damaged jim

James lay in bed, kept warm by Sebastian’s arms wrapped around him loosely as he pressed his forehead into the taller man’s chest. He liked sharing a bed with Sebastian, it seemed familiar and safer than when he slept alone.

Just like every night, Sebastian would mutter ‘Jim’ softly whenever he shifted or shuffled over a bit. James wasn’t sure if he was just saying it in his sleep, or if it was the same ‘Jim’ that Sebastian would sometimes say instead of his actual name when he wasn’t really focused, or had that sad look in his eyes.

This time when he said it, Sebastian’s arms tightened around James slightly and he nuzzled into James’ hair, his eyes still closed.

The same little sequence as usual began playing out in his mind. He could feel Sebastian’s arms draped over his waist and his lips pressed to his cheek as he mumbled something that was barely coherent to his sleep-dazed mind. Warmth would swell in his chest and he’d have the inclination to just fall asleep in Sebastian’s lap, but always he fought it. Well, he didn’t fight it exactly; it was as if he was being forced to fight it. And then the harsh Irish voice would ring out.

“You’re getting too sentimental, Sebastian,” it said harshly, and James didn’t understand why it sounded so angry because it seemed like such a happy moment. And the voice was desperate to curl back up in Sebastian’s lap and pretend he hadn’t actually heard the whispered words because then everything would be easier.

James never mentioned that to Sebastian. He never asked him why he said ‘Jim’ at night. He never understood why, when he was lying by Sebastian, the taller man never mumbled those same words, washed out by the haziness of his memory and the cosiness of the moment.

He didn’t ask because part of him understood - knew exactly why Sebastian never sounded so warm and almost loving when he spoke to James. Because he was James. Because he wasn’t Jim, and never would be.

—-

((I wonder if anybody can spot the allusion to one of my other fics, it’s actually quite obvious but maybe only to me, as I changed the ending of it a bit. Anyway, I hope you liked this and feel free to send prompts, headcannon questions and general spam my way))

Sebastian cursed under his breath as they came to another cordoned off street. He glanced down it and considered making a run for it, but he was holding James’ hand and the policemen were already giving them strange looks. Gritting his teeth, he turned on his heel and pulled James back down the street.

He had never hated the bloody police so much. Four streets cordoned off, the four streets that just so happened to be four of the five streets that would take them back to their apartment - or at least get them to a place where he could afford to take a taxi from.

Cursing quietly again, he started walking briskly down the street he had sworn not to walk down again. Baker Street. The detective was dead, but he knew from surveillance tapes that the doctor still came here - often enough that Sebastian felt uneasy bringing James to Baker Street. He focused on the end of the street and their block of apartments in the distance, to the extent that he barely registered the tightened grip on his hand. Only when James actually stopped did Sebastian react, turning to see what the problem was.

James was watching as a man stormed across the street towards them both. John Watson.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, “James, let’s go.” He tugged at the shorter man’s hand again and this time James responded, walking over to Sebastian and clinging to his arm.

But by then it was too late, John Watson had already reached them.

“Moriarty,” he practically hissed, “What the hell are you doing here?” He took two quick strides over to James and grabbed him by the collar. James tensed immediately, his nails digging into Sebastian’s palm as he struggled to get away from the doctor who was now hurling partially incoherent insults at him, enraged.

Sebastian acted on instinct, shoving the doctor away and running, hauling James along with him as Watson yelled down the street about ‘not falling for his stupid acts’ and ‘finding him and getting justice for what he had done’.

Once they reached the end of the street, James was panting and still had a look of abject horror on his face. Turning back and sighing in relief at the distinct lack of any people following them, Sebastian pulled James to his chest, letting the shorter man cling to him and rubbing his hand over the back of his neck soothingly. He cursed at the doctor. As much as he wanted Jim back, there was a part of him - a small part, he told himself - that didn’t want him to ever remember Sherlock Holmes, that just wanted Jim. Sadistic, brilliant, unpredictable, dangerous Jim with no detective to distract him.

James barely spoke for the remainder of the week, and Sebastian was almost glad, because as long as James wasn’t talking he wasn’t asking any questions that the sniper had no idea how to answer. That he didn’t want to answer.

—-

((Not too keen on this myself, but hope you like it nevertheless! Feel free to send prompts, headcannon questions and random spam my way. I’ll be alternating between angst and fluff for the next few days, so I hope you’re all ready))

Sebastian woke up with Jim - James, he cursed inwardly - lying next to him. He was smiling and tracing patterns on Sebastian’s face with his fingers. Sebastian watched him for a moment; James didn’t seem to mind that he was awake again, and continued what he was doing until Sebastian spoke.

“Morning,” he muttered.

It had been two years. He’d grown accustomed to his life now, Jim’s name only ever crossed his mind in the mornings when he was too tired to remember or his brain wanted to rest for a moment longer in the blissful and comforting world of his dreams, where he could chase Jim around London, guns blazing.

“Morning, Seb,” James replied, his voice lilting and cheery as he beamed up at Sebastian. The sniper smiled back wistfully, stroking James’ cheek before getting up.

“Breakfast?” he asked, and James nodded, following Sebastian and taking his hand cheerily. He pressed a kiss to the shorter man’s forehead and walked him to the kitchen, grabbing cereal from the top of the fridge and passing it to James.

James paused for a moment, looking at the cereal box and his empty bowl. He had a look of concentration on his face, and Sebastian was used to it. James would figure it out in a few moments and go on as normal - well, not quite normal, but there wasn’t any other way to describe it.

Sure enough, about a minute later James was tucking into his cereal and smiling at Sebastian.

It wasn’t until half an hour later - when Sebastian went to clean his teeth - that he noticed the scratches. James must have pressed a bit too hard earlier when Sebastian was asleep and he’d just been tracing meaningless patterns over the sniper’s face.

It was faint, but if Sebastian squinted he could make it out. In small, faded red lines over his forehead.  A word he thought he’d never see again. A word he thought James would never come to know.

Sherlock

Sebastian froze, his mind scrabbling for information. Had Jim been reading the newspapers? Maybe there was a small article, an old obituary. Or perhaps he was hallucinating, seeing what he wanted to see. His eyes darted around manically, and he nearly jumped out of his skin when James entered the room.

“Seb?” he asked, his voice soft and almost concerned.

Sebastian sighed, forcing himself to calm down. This wasn’t Jim. This wasn’t the cold, heartless and brilliant man he’d followed for so many years.

The sniper’s shoulders slumped and he walked over, placing a comforting hand on James’ shoulder.

He was so distracted that he didn’t even notice that James hadn’t said ‘I love you’ that day.

—-

((Long-ish note here, but it’ll be useful to read. Firstly, somebody asked for a long!fic of James recovering, but I’m having a hard time writing it, as I don’t see him recovering fully. So, here’s the deal. Whenever brain damaged!Jim angst gets too much, drop me a note asking for another little bit of him recovering and you’ll get a little snap shot like this of James becoming Jim again. Secondly, the ending of this will make much more sense if you read my brain damaged!Jim headcannon. Hope you liked it and feel free to send prompts, headcannon asks and general spam my way))