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"What're you thinking about, soldier?" Seb drawled, reaching up and tweaking John's nose.
An odd heat started to spread across John's chest. Seb's weight in his lap, his bright eyes searching John's face and his hand (rough fingers, but slender, long) now cupping John's cheek…
"I'm thinking," John said, his voice a touch hoarse, "that we should stop this bloody cab for a minute."
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In a world without Sherlock, John does what he must to move on. And Sebastian Moran is more than willing to help John along. -
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