Posts tagged brain trauma 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))

Ooh, fun. Brain Damaged!Jim is getting a surprising number of prompts (I’m working through them slowly, don’t worry).

- Sebastian isn’t entirely sure how the brain damage occured. After Reichenbach he was supposed to collect Jim from the roof, but the plan went awry somehow. Two months later he got a phone call from a lackey saying that they’d found somebody matching Jim’s description in a hospital in Dorset. Sebastian went to pick him up and then found out about the brain damage.

- There’s a scar where a wound has been stitched up on the side of James’ head, but it’s covered by hair. Sebastian’s not sure whether it’s from the accident that caused the brain damage or if Jim sustained it during the two months he went missing.

- James didn’t speak a word for the first 3 weeks after Sebastian brought him home, and when he did start speaking it was mainly ‘Seb’ or ‘Sebastian’.

- Sebastian called him ‘Jim’ for the first week, but found it too emotionally challenging (though he won’t admit it) and started using James instead. He slips up often, and James responds to both names.

- Sebastian buys James clothes, mainly jumpers, T-shirts and jeans. He tried to give him a suit to wear once but he thought it didn’t look right.

- James can speak well and read and write to some extent, though his handwriting isn’t like any of the styles Jim ever used. Sebastian sometimes wonders if it’s Jim’s handwriting, as Jim would constantly use various styles to keep people on their toes.

- Although he can speak, he doesn’t often. He’ll sometimes go for days on end without saying a word. Sebastian used to attempt to initiate conversation a lot more than he does now.

- Sebastian was in love with Jim, in a twisted, dependant way that most people probably wouldn’t class as love. Sebastian didn’t class it as love either. When James first started speaking, his most frequent phrase would be ‘I love you’ and Sebastian didn’t really have the heart to correct him, so he just goes along with it.

- James is fond of hugging and kissing Sebastian on the cheek, but not all the time.

- James sleeps in Jim’s room (see my headcannon for Jim and Seb’s apartment for more detail) and Sebastian sleeps in his own room. On rare occasions, he’ll share a bed with James, usually if James asks. Sebastian doesn’t protest, but he isn’t too keen on it, because he always wakes up thinking he’d next to Jim.

Since the incident, Sebastian had gone back to sleeping in the room that was officially his bedroom. He couldn’t recall ever using it when Jim had been living with him.

Now, James slept in Jim’s room with the big double bed and the wardrobe filled with clothes that James would never use. Neither of them spent much time in the room. Sebastian was usually out or sitting in the living room, and James was usually with him. Today, however, James hadn’t left his room. The door was closed and Sebastian stood outside, unsure what to do.

If it were Jim he would have just walked in. Heck, if it were Jim there would have been a high probability that he was in the bedroom with him anyway.

He knocked. It felt like a bizarre thing to do, but this was hardly a normal circumstance. There was no reply, so he opened the door half way, looking in.

James was sitting at Jim’s next, paying no attention to Sebastian. He didn’t even seem to notice as the sniper approached him, looking over his shoulder.

Sebastian froze, not even having the time to contemplate on how unusual it was for James to write or draw.

It wasn’t clear, but the picture looked like it was supposed to be a tiger. The stripes were clear, and the ears. The eyes most of all, the defined, dark eyes didn’t seem to match the slightly crude quality of the rest of the drawing. There was a stick man in the corner. Sebastian bit his lip as memories flooded back, some of actually encountering tigers in India, but most of swatting Jim’s hands away as the shorter man laughed and called him tiger in that teasing voice of his.

“I’m - uh - I’ll bring you breakfast,” he muttered, pressing a quick kiss to James’ cheek and exiting the room as fast as he could.

He reached the kitchen, leaning his weight against the counter. His chest felt heavy and he couldn’t begin to understand why. He just slumped down, cursing as a sob threatened to rise for his throat.

He missed Jim.

—-

((Hope you liked it, feel free to send prompts, headcannon questions and general spam my way. On a side note, this vaguely relates to my headcannon for Mormor’s apartment))

The doctor droned on about the test results. Sebastian didn’t really see the point. There was no change. She wouldn’t be able to tell him something he didn’t already know.

James grasped Sebastian’s hand tightly as they left the woman’s office. Some days he would be incredibly clingy - only with Sebastian, though - and other days he would barely seem to notice that the other man existed. Sebastian wasn’t entirely sure which he preferred, because if he was being ignored he could at least pretend that it was Jim ignoring him.

As it was, Sebastian just grasped Jim’s hand back as they walked down the corridor.

He barely even noticed the door open just slightly ahead of them until the surprised explanation sounded through the hallway.

“Jim?”

James didn’t react, save for a slight tightening of his grip on the sniper’s hand. Sebastian cursed inwardly. It was that annoying pathologist Jim had pretended to date for a while. That annoying pathologist who was friends with Sherlock and just happened to know that Jim was - formerly - the most dangerous man in London.

Usually, on the rare occasion that somebody recognised James, Sebastian just gave them some spiel about Richard Brook and they went away. He doubted that Ms Hooper would be quite so easy to fool.

He continued to walk, tugging James along with him and hoping that Hooper would take the hint. Unsurprisingly, she didn’t.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” she asked, approaching them and frowning. Sebastian clenched his jaw, stopping and subconsciously pulling James slightly closer.

“I think you’ve mistaken us for somebody else, Miss,” he gritted out. She still didn’t take the hint.

“He said that you were - that you’d died,” she continued. Something snapped in Sebastian, because she was right. Jim was dead.

James was silently looking up at her, not seeming to process what she said.

“Come on,” Sebastian muttered, pulling James away and back down the corridor.

Molly just stared after them, slightly dumbfounded.

It had been a mistake to come here.

—-

((Hope you liked it, feel free to send more prompts, headcannon asks and general spam my way. First time writing Molly, I’m very fond of her but I imagine that Sebastian isn’t))

Sebastian watched closely as Jim - James - looked out of the window.

He knew that Jim wasn’t coming back. It wasn’t like one of those crappy movies that would be on TV once a month where the patient saw their childhood home and suddenly remembered everything.

He almost wished it would happen, by this point he didn’t care how cheesy it would be. He didn’t even care that Jim would probably kill him for daring to keep him alive like this.

His mind wandered - or rather fled, because he could barely stand this - to the last time he had been on the London Eye with Jim. It had been timed perfectly. They had set the explosives then Jim had practically dragged him halfway across London and shoved twenty or so tourists aside to get the chamber that would be at the exact highest point to catch the view. Jim had watched, laughing like a maniac, as the building went up in flames, so far in the distance. The consulting criminal must have come up with over twenty analogies for what the explosion looked like from so high up, but none of them had quite matched. It wasn’t like a candle, not really just a spark…

James did no such thing. He watched pensively, ignoring the few other tourists that milled around him.

When they reached the bottom again James still didn’t say anything, he simply took Sebastian’s hand and allowed the sniper to lead him back out into the streets of London.

It was only in the taxi on the way home that James said anything. He was leaning against Sebastian’s shoulder, half asleep and making small movements with his hands.

“Like a lighter, Seb. Phwoosh.”

And Sebastian froze, stuck still as James fell asleep against him.

—-

((I’m becoming slightly fond of this little AU. Hope you liked it and feel free to send prompts, image prompts, headcannon questions and general spam my way))

Sebastian sat uneasily beside the bed.

Jim - or rather James, as the sniper had become accustomed to calling him - lay half propped up by the pillows, his hand clasped loosely in Sebastian’s. The room was quiet.

It was almost difficult for Sebastian to associate such a silence with anything but Jim being angry, or Jim scheming. Sometimes he would imagine during the quiet that it was Jim beside him, and that he was concocting some nefarious scheme that would inevitably result in Sebastian chasing the criminal half way across London to make sure that he was still safe. Other times he just let his mind wander back to the days he had spent with the most dangerous man in London. More often than he would prefer, his mind would simply shoot back to the sight of Jim lying in a shallow pool of his own blood; worse still, he would see the look in Jim’s eyes when he had finally woken up and hadn’t been Jim anymore.

Sebastian wasn’t sure how long they sat there. James was no longer at a stage where he couldn’t have a conversation, but it pained the sniper to talk. He wouldn’t admit it, but it hurt every time the illusion that he was still by Jim Moriarty’s side shattered. He glanced at his watch.

“Right, I’d better be heading off then.” His voice pervaded the silence, causing the man in the bed to jump slightly, turning to face Sebastian. If he didn’t look into James’ eyes, the smile was still the same as it had been in Sebastian’s memories - though even they grew vaguer everyday.

“Oh - yes,” he leaned forward slightly, pressing a kiss to the sniper’s cheek, “Love you, Sebastian.”

Every time those words were uttered, Sebastian felt his carefully constructed mask begin to crumble.

“You too,” he replied, forcing a straight face and turning to leave the room.

When he finally got back to his apartment he pressed his back against the wall, crumpling down to the floor with ragged breaths that weren’t quite sobs. Because James loved him but Jim never would.

—-

((I’ve never been any good at angst, so I apologise if this wasn’t what you were hoping for. Feel free to send prompts, headcannon questions or general spam my way))