Being shot was strange.
It was a lot like being stabbed by Sebastian, actually. His human form leaked red blood onto dusty sand. Losing his body would be interesting, but it hurt, and he hadn’t expected that.
“Well, hello again, Watson,” Moriarty said, appearing in a swirl of black sand. He gazed down at John with sharp teeth and crazed black eyes. “Oh, dear. You’ve gone and damaged your body. Naughty boy.”
John could just grunt in return.
“Same spot, too. Tut, tut, dearie,” Moriarty grinned. “Sebby must just have a lot of nostalgia for that particular shoulder.”
“You did this?” John managed to strangle out. Moriarty’s inhuman grin widened.
“You didn’t think you were the only one who got off on the blood and glory, did you? Seb’s been playing with you for years. It’s time to call in that favor, my dear Doctor Watson. You’re going to England, and from there we’ll discuss our terms.” Moriarty hovered his hand over John’s wound. A slimy black aura, much like his oozing manner of transportation, poured from his hand into John’s body. “That will hold you until the human surgeons can repair you. I’ll be in touch, Johnny boy.”
After that, everything faded to black and John knew nothing else for a long, long time.
(( Entire Work ))
