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Truth Or Lie

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Chapter 1. The Observation

Moriarty squinted at the black dressed figure meters ahead of him and concentrated even more on observing it. He wanted to get some info about the man he was stalking. Yes, he was a stalker and he only admitted it to himself. So, if ever someone else'd call him that, it's strange how that person'd end up being a poor victim of a maniac's plan...

He clenched his hands on the steering wheel, observing as the figure opened a small restaurant's door and followed inside the man he had been waiting for.

"Ah, Sherlock... Always so full of false gallantry and hidden motives, eh?"

Moriarty suddenly gritted his teeth. Rage was flooding him inside. But what for?

"That should be me... being inside with Sherlock Holmes..." he jealously thought.

He released his grip on the poor wheel and his eyes became innocently and cutily round; the criminal genius hadn't figured out yet whether he actually envied Watson for a somewhat hidden reason or only because he wanted to sneak near his enemy and play with his mind. And it just sooooooooo got on his nerves...

"Anyways! Time to get to woooo~rk!" exclaimed Moriarty with a sudden grin and eyes sparkling with joy.

He slammed the car's driver's door, groomed his fashionable toxedo and with a loud and excited "good!" and a tiny smile, he headed to the restaurant where his equal had disappeared with his dog.

"Well, one cannot deny he's got a very obedient pet! Humpf!" he thought before grabbing the doorknob, turning it and pulling the door toward him.

Moriarty stepped into the great room; it wasn't such a luxurious place as one would have expected nor was it a cheap one. He looked around as though a normal customer would, even though he already knew precisely where Sherlock and his funny but yet annoying pet were sitting; they were sharing a small table for two close to the left wall (from the entrance, of course), with exactly one table before theirs and another behind, then it had none since the kitchen was right after it. Moriarty could also say at how many degrees the table was situated, plus in what cardinal direction... But, he didn't feel like it.

So, he reajusted his clothes, again (he loved to be perfectly presentable), and walked up to them. He exclaimed a believable, though obviously fake, "HEY!You're there too?" with the surprised but so happy facial expression that came with it.

It was just so good to see Sherlock drop his fork and look at him with big round shocked eyes. Moriarty giggled inside; he would re-do this anytime or pay billions just to relive that priceless scene. With a wide smile and happy tone of voice, he leant between the two of them so they could hear him whisper:

"I'm sure you didn't expect me here...! Oh me!"

He mimicked the action with his right thumb and his right little finger, before smirking to them and as if nothing happened, he walked all gleefully to the bathroom.

"What the hell is that psychopath doing here?" Watson cried out in anger and annoyment.

" Teasing me..." answered Sherlock in his most neutral voice, proving he was deep in thoughts.

"Teasing y- But Sherlock! Why don't you just call Lestrade and tell him to arrest that maniac?"

"Because I just don't have the required proofs to do so!"Sherlock brusquely cut off.

The consulting detective stared at the restroom's door, then at the counter.

After some minutes (about 2, Sherlock noticed), Moriarty came out from the bathroom, smiling and with a wink to his two favorite victimes, he headed to the waiter at the counter. Sherlock saw him laugh and talk with the man and slide a little paper note in his hands... Then, Moriarty was off to the streets and wherever he was headed next.

Sherlock frowned and got up. Watson, who had been watching the whole scene, looked at his friend and stood up, following him.

"Hi. What did that ma-"

"Here. He left you this note...that's his phone number if ever you're wonderin'. Hehe..looks like he's got quite the hots for you...told me he's been trying to get you since day one. I just had to help, ya know..ain't got nothing against gays." spouted the man with a huge and complice smile.

The only reply Sherlock could provide was a shy and confused smile. He then rushed to the door and got out, not even waiting for Watson who had to pay the note and catch up with him.

"Hehe...Things are going weeee~ll!" rejoiced Moriarty, watching from afar in the dark of the adjacent street his amusing enemies as they almost ran back home, Watson desesperately trying to catch up with the consulting detective who seemed to be way too shocked to wait for his companion...Oh, sorry, little pet.

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Truth Or Lie

Chapter 2. The Call

Sherlock was pacing up and down in his office, his index on his chin and eyes opened wide with sickening stress and deep thinking.

'Sherlock, please, calm down!'

'I CAN'T, Watson!'

'Sorry...' replied reluctantly the doctor who was lying onto the couch.

It had been 2 days since they had unwillingly met with Moriarty, and Sherlock still hadn't cooled down from it. But, even though it had scared him and stressed him, Watson was more relaxed... He thought the detective should just ignore the other man and never call because it had been two days and nothing had happened since then...So, perhaps the maniac didn't care that much about that call...But, Watson knew it never was that easy with Sherlock.

He sighed.

'Then why dond't you call him? Maybe he just wants to see... I don't know.'

For an answer, this is what he received: a quick but deep glare.

'I already told you why!' brusquely answered thee great detective, getting impatient.

'Yeah, I know, sorry...' said John in his usual soft voice.

'Because if I call, then maybe it is the signal to start another game of his... And I highly suspect this one will be even more dangerous...Since I caught him once, he's probably not happy...'

A long silence had taken hold of the great room for many minutes. None of them dared make the tiniest move nor almost even breath as if the sentence had been a warning of some freaky sort...

'Okay. I'm gonna call him!' declared Sherlock with a harsh jump at the phone hung on the wall.

Watson sighed again, in desperation though this time.

'Sherlock! I thought I just heard you said that-'

'Shh! It's ringing!'

His companion rolled his eyes and sunk deeper into the couch, lazily waiting for something to happen until he heard a 'hello!' from Sherlock. It caught his attention enough for him to stiffen and sit on the edge of the couch.

'Ah! Sherlock Ho~lmes~!' Moriarty said, going into raptures on the other end of the line. 'And there I was starting to think you'd never call...'

A giggle could be heard on the phone.

'Stop it, Moriarty! I want explanations! Why did you want me to call you? Why all this mascarade, again? You wanna start a new game, huh?' asked Sherlock in a harsh voice, stressed out and eager to know at the same time.

'Ahaha... Sherlock... Always so interested in our little game, I see! No, no, you cannot hide anything from me... Oh and you're totally right! Well, the sweet game of ours has started. It even did so the second my phone began to ring... But you already knew that, didn't you, my dear?'

'Yes! I did! Now, tell me what this new plan will imply! How many deaths? What's it based on, this time?'

'Ouh, Sherlock... calm down. I'm not gonna bite you! Anyways, I'm way too far away for that...' Moriarty said, followed by a giggle. 'Look, because I'm nice... haha, yea~h, I'm going to give you a hint...'

He let a few seconds pass, just to stress and annoy Sherlock even more, if that was even possible at the moment.

'Come on! Do tell, Moriarty!' pressed Sherlock, sick and tired of the awful wait.

'Haha... All right... Here you go. The hint is : You.'

And then, a 'beep' was heard on the phone; Moriarty had hung up. Sherlock lowered the phone he was holding and kept on staring at it.

'So... What did he tell you?' clumsily asked Watson after a while.

'He told me that the hint'

Sherlock turned round and Watson looked up; they stared at each other with a fearful and confused expression.

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Truth Or Lie

Chapter 3. Taxi Ride

Sherlock and Watson were walking down Baker street. It was the day after Sherlock received the weirdest and most frightening hint ever. They both had agreed on taking a stroll in order to maybe think about something else than that... But as everyone knows, most of these desperate tries tend to fail...

'You know why I didn't call him on my cellphone instead of on the household one? That's because I told myself that seeing he knows so much about me and my whereabouts, it shouldn't matter if I called him from home since he probably already knows my adress and phone number.' Sherlock explained. 'I'm sure you wondered why...'

The consulting detective turned his head and smiled awkwardly to his companion. Watson stared at him, unease, before expressing his deep thoughts on the matter.

'Erm, no... In fact, no, I didn't...'


They both kept on walking; in an awkward silence now, though.

'So...erm, look... I'm gonna go and visit Sarah, all right? You're gonna be fine without me? I mean... I don't think he'll attack within 2' shyly asked Watson.

'It's fine! Go...I...Well, he might, in all honesty. I don't trust him... But yes, go. I'll call you if... there is anything.' slowly and uncomfortably answered Sherlock.

He totally didn't want his friend to go, but he wouldn't admit it... At least, not quite.

'Okay, then! See you later!' exclaimed Watson with a huge smile before rushing all happily to Sarah's house.

Sherlock turned to to face the street, grimacing at Watson's departure.

'Hm... I'm in for some tea with scones.' he thought, hungry. 'Taxi!'

He called one with two fingers in the air and a shout. He walked up to the now slowing down cab, opened the door and quickly got in.

'Wait! Wait please!'

Sherlock frowned as he heard someone pleading at the taxi to wait up for him. A few seconds later, Sherlock sank deeper into his seat, not believing whom he was seeing as the pleading man sat next to him and closed the door...

'Hellooo~ ! To Aunty Rosemerta's, please. I'm hungry.' Moriarty said, gleefully. 'Are you?'

Sherlock was in complete horror, looking at Moriarty who was staring right back at him with such...dark eyes filled with so much malice in it it was simply frightening.

'I know you're hungry... Just don't rush this much to answer my precious question.' mocked Moriarty. 'Oh and by the way! Is it just me or your guard dog isn't doing his job as well as before? He left you alone! You really should train him again and more intensively, my dear...'

Sherlock just kept staring at him in utter disbelief.

'How... How come you're here?'

'Aw! Come on, Sherlock! Don't tell me you thought I wasn't following your every mo—'

'No! I knew!'

'Well, then...' began Moriarty, showing his teeth in a huge smile like a shark does right before eating his prey. 'Why don't you come to the restaurant and have a nice proper chat with m—'

'Taxi! STOP! NOW! Thank you!' shouted Sherlock, startling his enemy.

The detective pushed the door and stood out. He ran and ran far away from danger, without even *or so he tried* caring about the shouting he heard in the cold air, sadly and deeply knowing danger would never let him breath properly...

'Watson! Where is Watson? I find a...good hiding place!' he thought as he dashed towards what he hoped to be safety.

'Come back! We're not done yet! I'll show you! SHERLOCK!' Moriarty shouted, standing outside of the cab and grabbing its passenger's door, furious. 'You haven't seen the last of me and you know it, Sherlock! I'll find you! I'LL HAUNT YOU! I'll burn the fucking heart out of you! AND YOU KNOW IT!'

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'So, you think you're going to escape me, huh? Well, you're wrong... You're sooo~ gonna be surprised... It won't be me who loses this time!'

Moriarty was talking to himself, fiddling with his iPhone. Well, he was more precisely talking to the 'image' of Sherlock in his mind since he wasn't there with him... yet! With an evil grin, he turned round and kept on walking down the dark little alley from which he had observed Sherlock getting in a cab and in which he had found himself tempted to call the so-called other genius... his archnemesis and yet his goal at the same time.

It was dark. It was the day, more the evening, after the taxi ride. Sherlock had gotten Moriarty mad and the criminal genius just couldn't let him get away without some reprisals... dark and creepy reprisals... Evil mind-games. His specialty. Well, he had already planned something...but his plan had been worsened by Sherlock's very reaction.

He just had meant to have a nice little chat with him, but no, the great detective had decided differently but fleeing rapidly. And Moriarty just couldn't take it!

'You won't escape me. I'm sure you're safe in thinking I ignore where you live... Haha! I'll sooo~ get to you! Believe it or not... SURPRISE!'

Moriarty couldn't help but grin as he walked and thought about all this.

'As if you'd get away from me! Ha ha! No! NEVER!' he shouted, clenching his fingers aggressively on his iPhone.

He turned the corner and kept walking, discretly following the cab as a normal person between so many others.

'I'll surprise you.. You won't win this time around! I'll play with you... I'll fuck you and your mind... I'll make you lose it, cry out in despair and... I hope you can stand some blood...yours... Anyways, you'll have to. I don't even care what you have to say about it!'

He stopped in front of a duplex and muttered, amused with thoughts of what was about to come.

'I'll love it! But you won't! And so won't your stupid little disgusting pet...'

He grinned evilly, put his iPhone in his pocket, then looked around just to make sure none had followed him.

'How about a surprise visit, my dear?' he exclaimed gleefully, smirking as headed towards 221B Baker street.

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Sherlock hung his marvelous coat on the coat stand in the entrance and put his key in his pants' pocket before jogging up the stairs to his lounge, also known as his study. He roamed about in the room for quite some time, trying to figure out why Watson had left him alone this evening in such a crisis! Only to go and meet up with Sarah ... Sherlock had never been quite good in the 'heart area' (of course, not physiologically speaking because then, he knew everything there was to know about it...) So, even though he tried, he knew he wouldn't really find the answer (and it bugged him!). Also, he was a bit stressing from his totally unwanted meeting with Moriarty the day before...

After a few minutes of his time given to those thoughts, he realized he was hungry. So, he turned on his heels and headed down to the kitchen.

But then, he froze halfway down the stairs, staring at the man before him in utter shock. It obviously wasn't his dear Watson...

'Hellooo~, Sherlock. Glad to see me? I sadly don't see a gun in your pants this time...'

'Wha-What are you doing here? How did you get in? You couldn't have gotten the key! It's only in duplicate! And I made sure I always had it on me, so none could get to it. Watson also- Oh no! Watson!'

'Yeeep~! You should really keep a closer eye on your little pet... or at least, train him better! He had left it on a small table as he went to pay for the meal and let's just say I decided it was a marvelous occasion to take its print and make a co-'

Sherlock had rushed down the stairs, grabbed Moriarty by the collar and slammed him onto the wall.

'WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM? WHERE IS WATSON?' he shouted, at a loss at his this revelation, spluttering in his enemy's disliked face.

'Ooohh~! You care this much? Ha ha! I'd love to tell you something happened and he's in great danger, but no. At least, not yet. Care to know? I simply made a copy of the key and let him go about his business. Seeing a woman... You see? Everything's good.'

Moriarty gently put his hands on Sherlock's and made him release his firm and rough grip. He reajusted his tie and the top of his expensive business suit, not showing at all his irratation though it boiled inside him...

'What were you doing? Going to the kitchen, I guess.' he said. 'And since you... stood me up for the restaurant... I assume you will make it up to me by eating with me in your kitchen, right?'

Moriarty was now glaring at the young man standing in front of him. It was one of those glares that meant : You'd better do as I say or you know I'll always hold it against you... and your 'family' could be harmed. Sherlock just sighed, then entered the kitchen reluctantly for he knew he'd best do as the criminal genius wanted for the time being.

'Ooohh~... Looks like you really ARE clever, my dear Sherlock!' mocked Moriarty with a grin. 'Or perhaps you just want to make amends with me...'

'Forget about that last one!'

'Oh! How sad...' the bad guy said with a fake pout which quickly turned into another grin.

Sherlock got out a frozen pizza from the freezer and for a second there, he hoped it was poisoned so Moriarty could choke on it. But, it wasn't. Sadly. So, he sighed and just cooked it in silence whilst his archnemesis was nicely sitting and waiting at the table.

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As he dropped his half-eaten pizza crust for he was full now, Moriarty smirked at Sherlock and asked him what he had in mind.

''Well, now...'' began Sherlock as he stood up. ''I assume you'll leave since you got what you wanted.''

Moriarty smirked again and chuckled. But then, Sherlock wasn't in his sight anymore; he had left the kitchen, and by the hollow sounds of his footsteps, he was walking up the stairs, back to his study. The genius villain frowned, then quickly followed.

''Ohhh~ nooo~! I still didn't get all I came here for.''

Sherlock, arrived at the top of the flight of stairs, startled as he heard a mocking voice, and turned round quickly just in time to see Moriarty's cold, scary and dark eyes staring right at him. And he had to precise he hadn't forgotten to put an evil smirk on his face.

Sherlock stumbled against his sofa as he took a few steps backwards, and Moriarty, of course, advanced towards him. Though, he did it confidently, and without any stumble...

He approached the great detective, who was feebly holding onto the red sofa, and leant over him.

''Looks like we've got much to do, Sherlock... Plus side, we're alone and we've got all what's left of the evening and night...''

Moriarty grinned at his own reply, and at Sherlock's uncertain expression, then leant closer, and put his hands onto the great detective's hips. Sherlock wanted to scream, but did nothing because he knew he'd appear wulnerable, and it just wouldn't be helpful right now... He tried to struggle his way out, but quickly understood how tight Moriarty's grip was.

''So, are you ready? I sure hope so... for I am.'' sexily whispered the villain before kissing Sherlock.

Sherlock's eyes flung opened, shocked by this sudden... move. He tried to push the intruder away, but decided it might enrage Moriarty, and, right now, it was one of the less wanted things in the world... At least, for Sherlock. So, he stopped. Instead, he did not kiss back, but just stayed there, eyes opened wide as a bunch of weird thoughts and speculations hit his mind.

''Why? He couldn't do that out of affection, that's for sure! Period. Then... It's probably only to surprise and confuse me in order to have the upper hand as I struggle within against my own emotions, questions and feelings forced on me. Thus, putting me off investigations and else... But even then it makes no sense since he loves those ''games''. Is it just another one? Probably. Or maybe it's only because he needs sex? No, no, he's definitely NOT this vulgar and simple-minded type. But what if he really wants something to do with me? No, that's impossible!''

''Huh? You're not kissing back?'' exclaimed Jim as he pulled away. ''I'm hurt, Sherlock...''

He pouted and wore on his face one of the best pitiful expressions Sherlock may have seen... The great detective sighed and took a step forward, leaving them at only two centimeters from each other. Moriarty obviously noticed it and smirked at it...

''Oh, you're taking the lead now, aren't you?'' cooed and teased Moriarty with a raise of the eyebrow. ''I like that!''

He shook his body and laughed. Then, he just stared at Sherlock, daring him to do something sexy with his eyes filled with lust and curiosity.

''No,'' whispered Sherlock.''It's not wh-''

''No? Well, I sure do like that!''

They gazed at each other, Sherlock with quite an unhappy expression on his face while, you've probably guessed it, Moriarty had an amused grin on. These two gentlemen knew what Moriarty had said was a joke... But let's say it annoyed Sherlock deeply because he wasn't in the mood for jokes. In fact, he didn't even know himself what mood he was in beside ''Get out of here!'' and ''What the fuck do you want from me?''.

''Why're you here, Moriarty?''

Jim pouted so well it almost looked as if he were truthfully hurt. He shook his head and muttered ''tsk tsk...'' before speaking.

''Sherlock... I came here just to see you. Don't tell me you want me out of here? After all the trouble I went into so we could meet tonight? Come on! Don't be so mean~...''

He grinned, eyes gleaming with happiness and malice, and he raised a hand to massage Sherlock's chest and stomach. Why deprive oneself?

''I just longed to see my favorite detective... And I hoped he'd love it too~.''

Sherlock tensed and stared at the still-pouting Moriarty with eyes wide opened.

''Get out of here.'' he said neutrally in one breath.

Jim slowed down the massage and rased a doubtful eyebrow at Sherlock. He then quickly walked to the doorframe.

''Fine... But you'll miss me~!'' said the villain, glancing at Sherlock over his shoulder one last time.

And then, he walked down the stairs and left 221B Baker Street.

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Sherlock was now fiddling rapidly with his fingers, and tapping his foot on his study's floor. Last night had been quite disturbing and confusing, he just couldn't help pondering over what was wrong with Moriarty. Well, everything, but you know what Sherlock meant... He hadn't slept at all. It's not like he hadn't tried! No, no. He'd laid down many times on his sofae, but panicked, and with his head filled with so many questions, he just continuously kept on springing back on his feet.

Sherlock glanced at his wristwatch, then grumbled something about John still showing sign of his absence. His companion wasn't back from his little jaunt yet, and it was 7:00 AM. He'd sure hear a word or two about this...Pff! Leaving his friend, a detective on dangerous cases. Plus, Moriarty had come back! How had he dared, that ex-Afghanistan doctor?

''Nevermind... For now!'' Sherlock mumbled before pushing himself on his feet from the sofa he tried to sit still on, but failed at each and every attempt. And there had been countless ones.

He walked down to the kitchen, feeling dizzy and finding support on the walls. When he entered the room, he looked around slowly; he had gone there with no precise idea in mind, but the one to think about something different from what made him have a sleepless night. His eyes fell on the tea caddy, then on the kette placed on the counter. He walked to it, put his fingers around the handle, and poured water from the sink in it.

''... What was he here for? I can assume without a doubt it wasn't for a pizza crust, and a nice old little stupid chitchat like common people can't seem to stop having. No, he had something on his mind; something else than kissing, and this whole nice act...'' he sighed, bent over the sink.

Sherlock straightened up, and went to plug the kettle in the wall for it to boil. He leaned on the counter near it, and kept on trying to find the precise reason why Moriarty had paid him a visit he surely could have lived without, other than to simply annoy the heck out of him (which was working quite well, by the way...).

''Yergh... I can't believe he really kissed me! It's disgusting...'' he grimaced, touching his lips slightly. ''Let's say it wasn't what I had expected for a first kiss. Not that I actually was expecting one in my entire life... It would've been ''normally'' possible if I weren't a highly functioning sociopath. But, oh well, at least I've experienced what it was like...''

The sound of boiling water got him out of his confusion. Sherlock grabbed the nearest cup, put a tea bag in it, then poured hot water till it reached the cup's border. Sherlock then sat down at the table, and took a sip of the hot and fuming tea before continuing his mental search for clues and hints.

''He's acting like this on purpose. It's certainly a decoy. Because, let's be honest, he couldn't have fallen in love with me after such a short time... The quests, and the few, though thrilling, meetings. Plus, he's totally not the type to fall in love nor have a relationship; he's cruel, shows no apparent sign of care about human life. He also gets bored easily, doesn't see the purpose of dating, is a criminal who doesn't have time for anything else than his little games, and surely needs to be intellectually stimulated. In other words : he's a criminal me. So, this leaves : decoy and plan. Now, the way he suggestivelylooked at me quite-''

''Sorry, Sherlock! Thought I'd make it home earlier...''

The apartment door creaked as it closed, then Watson appeared right before him, looking a bit lost or in thoughts. Either one seemed to describe him perfectly at that moment. Sherlock stared at him as if a dead person had come to life.

''AH! THERE YOU ARE! Please, next time, simply do like you did, it's perfect! Just tell me you're going to dinner with Sarah, then never give me a call about you coming home the next morning, so I can stay up all night worrying about your whereabouts! Oh! Also, there's an evil, sadistic mastermind on the loose who's after ME! But I guess it didn't cross your mind... God! THANKS! What kind of friend are you?''

And with a last glare and ''tsk!'' at his companion, he stormed into the kitchen. Watson simply sighed, shook his head, and took his time before following him.

''I said : I'm sorry, Sherlock! Plus, I've got a cellphone, you know.''

''So?'' asked Sherlock's tense and cold voice as he rummaged through the cupboards for nothing in particular but to avoir the doctor's intense stare on him.

''Well... You could've called me at anytime to know what I was doing, and knowing you, I'm sure you wouldn't even have hesitated... So! That means you were busy trying to solve an enigma OR since you've mentioned Moriarty, he unfortunately paid you a visit while I was gone...'' Watson explained.

He sighed, then tapped the wooden floor with his cane. Sherlock froze on the spot, arm stretched and one hand around a cupboard's handle, and turned his dubitative face towards John.

''How did you get so good at deducing?''

''Well...'' he paused, pouting slightly and shifting from foot to foot. ''I'm learning from the best...''

And with a wink and a complice smile, he walked to the living room, and sat on the sofa Sherlock had had troubles falling asleep on. The consulting detective let out a gasp of surprise and pride, then went to sit next to his only friend.

''So... What happened?'' asked Watson after a long silence.

''Well...He came over, ate, and...threatened me. The usual with him,'' he lied partly.

He figured telling Watson Moriarty kissed him and tried to charm (was it even the right term?) wouldn't be the best thing ever. First, it would only make Watson worry even more. Second, he'd probably try on getting Sherlock to give him more information about the kiss and if he liked it whatsoever... Stupid, human behavioral habits... He'd probably ask again about his sexuality, which Sherlock wasn't too eager on discussing again... The scene of Watson telling him it was ''fine'' to have a boyfriend in a restaurant, and him harshly and coldly replying ''I know it's fine!'' popped up in his mind. Sherlock blinked multiple times, then rushed to grab his coat on the coat hanger.

''He came to eat? What the—Sherlock! Where are you going?''

Sherlock stopped right in front of the door, then slowly turned to face Watson.

''I need to get out of here! To clear my mind, and just... Follow me!'' he said with an icy stare that wouldn't wait for a retort of any sort. He sure was not going to spend any more minute in here without getting some good air...He just wanted to get as far away in case Moriarty had planned on coming back in the morning. Plus, he hoped it'd help him find some answers to all this...madness...Because yes, this made no sense. Unless it was a decoy or a plan for something much more terrible...

Watson frowned, and licked his lips in questioning. Though, there was no arguing with Sherlock. So, he sighed and followed him out of the apartment reluctantly.

''I had just come back...'' he whined under his breath.

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''No one refuses me anything!'' he cursed at Sherlock, all alone in his kitchen. ''I was acting all desirable, and even delivered myself to him... And what I get is a ''no''? NO, Sherlock! You'll learn that you can't toy with me like you want! That's MY area!''

Moriarty rageously spread out many pictures of Baker street, each one taken from different angles, on the table in front of him. He sighed; he couldn't believe he had gotten rejected. He was handsome, and he had kissed him... Moriarty was certain that Sherlock had never kissed anyone before; it was obvious seeing how he acted around people. A ball of unpleasant feeling was starting to form in his stomach. How he hated to be dismissed this easily, and mostly : to have lost. He snorted. The taste of defeat was sour, and foreign in his mouth. Although, he yet hadn't pronounced his last words...! He'd win at the end.

He smiled crookedly. He was going to remedy to that... quickly! He grabbed his cellphone on the table, then started to write a message he was going to send to a precise person.

''It looks like it's time for you to learn the lesson I mean you to get!'' he said out loud with a devilish smirk on his face. ''10:04 AM... sent.''

Sherlock was ticked off. Completely ticked off. It had been two weeks now since Moriarty had come to kindly visit him. He had received absolutely NO sign from him since then, and he was pretty certain that Moriarty had made sure of it just so Sherlock'd worry and become impatient. And the worst of it was that it was working perfectly...

''Sherlock! Please... Calm down!'' pleaded Watson, getting more and more annoyed as he looked at Sherlock pacing around their living room.

The great consulting detective froze, then spun on his heels as if he had been electrocuted.

''What? No, I can't! Don't you see? It's been two weeks after- after this. He's obviously plotting something new... As it seems, it's mostly to make me unconfident, and just throw me off my feet-''

''You know, perhaps he off our backs,'' suggested the dear doctor.

Sherlock stared at him in utter disbelief. He raised his hands in the air as though asking for a sign before slapping them on his thighs.

''Really? Really, John? Do you think HE'd ever do that?''

''No,'' he answered dryly, defeated.

''Good answer!'' the detective replied mockingly.

Watson gazed out the window for a few seconds while Sherlock simply tapped his foot, annoyed, on the wooden floor.

''What time is it, John?'' he finally asked casually, but in that precise tone of voice that meant he really wanted the information.

''What-? Oh! It's almost 5 past 10 A-''

At this right moment, a shrill sound past inches between their faces; the bullet had produced a small hole in the window before crashing into the wall at the extremity of the room. They stood there, blinking at each other as if time had stopped, a serious look on their faces. Sherlock shook himself back into reality first, but before he could even make a move, his cellphone's ringtone was heard. He startled, then quickly took it out of his pockets.

The Sundance. Half an hour. No pets allowed.

''What is it?'' ventured his flatmate after a long while spent drowning in tangible silence.

He walked to the wall, and passed the tip of his index on the hole the bullet had made. Watson was amazed, yet scared about all this. He didn't know if the facts that Moriarty had waited two weeks before making this terrifying attack, and that he hadn't hurt any of them on purpose were reassuring or not... But he was certain of one thing : this, what was to unfold from it, wasn't good! The bullet was only a warning. One that he and Sherlock had to heed carefully...

''That's our man! Moriarty!'' exclaimed Sherlock, who was already putting on a spring towards the door.

'Sherlock! W-Wait! Sher-Sherlock!'' Watson shouted. ''I'll-''

''No! You simply cannot come! I don't want to jeopardize your life this stupidly. No, no, no! Mostly when he'd hurt you without a doubt!'' Sherlock explained with eyes gleaming with shrewdness, turning round to face Watson whilst pointing at the bullet's hole. ''Don't you remember the first time? At the pool? I do...''

Watson was about to retort something, but Sherlock grabbed his coat, winked at him, and exited the apartment at top speed. The dear doctor, for his part, just stayed there, silently staring at the closing and creaking door.

''Oh God! The way he runs to him when called... Sometimes I wonder if, truthfully, he doesn't enjoy meeting that guy...'' Watson murmured mostly for himself.

Chapter Text

Sherlock looked at both ways before crossing the street, hawk-eyed for any sign of Moriarty, and clues that could help him on this case; he still thought this was a weirdly, but well-exectued plan. Although he tried hard, he couldn't deny the excitation nor the thrill flowing through his veins at the very thought of being an active part of one of this madman, yet genius' new game. It was even increasing along with with his pulse, and saliva as he approached the meeting place...

He knew Moriarty was somewhere on the other side of that door. Sherlock smiled, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and clenched his fists to prepare himself psychologically before pushing the door. It was dim-lit, almost like in those sappy romantic T.V. shows. He had known even before stepping in The Sundance (due to hearsay, its appearance, and his personal research) that it was a high-class restaurant where bosses, and CEOs had dinner. Of course, Moriarty'd choose this place to either : 1- Show himself better. 2- Make an impression. 3- Because he knew the place well, and could easily have built a plan in case things got out of hand with whatever he was planning. 4- He wouldn't have chosen otherwise unless it was a part of his twisted scheme. Also, The Sundance was renown for couples who wanted a romantic, and expensive moment together. Some people even qualified this as charming, such a thing Sherlock was certain he'd probably never understand; it was too stupid in itself for him. He grimaced with disdain, then rubbed his hands together, trying to warm himself up a bit. He disliked everything that had to do with romance because it was useless. And even though he deemed Moriarty's purposedly (or so he was certain ofཀ) reinforced flirting quite destabilizing, he couldn't lie about the fact that he'd be a tad bit flattered if it happened to be real... What could be better than his evil equal finding an interest in more than his great mind... in him? He shook himself, unease at that perspective of him falling this easily for this devious man. No, no, this was all just another game like all of the previous ones...Yes. None had cared enough about him for that before; why should this one be different? No...

''Sir, is your name Sherlock Holmes?'' inquired a classy waiter with menus tightly held against his chest.

Sherlock frowned, and looked at the man. He didn't even need to ask that soon information was given to him.

''Mr. Moriarty reserved a table, and is now waiting for you. If you will follow me, pleaseཀ''

The waiter smiled politely, though he seemed odd; almost as if he were hiding a knife behind his back, or intended on doing some harm... Nevertheless, Sherlock followed him, eyes darting at everything, and everyone in the room. No matter the location nor he situation : always collect data about the surroundings. It may save your life, or simply help you get the cleverest and most menacing criminal the world had ever seen behind the bars.

''Ahཀ Sherlock Hooolmes~ཀ'' Moriarty exclaimed, sitting at the table, and smirking maliciously. ''I knew you couldn't resist coming.''

Sherlock nodded, grimacing a smile, as to show his agreement, but also his displeasure about it, and to not give in this quickly; though, it was true, he couldn't have resisted this time around. If he could, he'd punch that confidently annoying grin off of the criminal's face. Moriarty dismissed the waiter with a gentle move of the head after having ordered the best bottle of red wine they had.

''Come onཀ Sit downཀ I didn't call you so you'd get sore legs...''

Moriarty smiled charmingly while tapping the table softly, but in an authoritarian manner, as to incite his guest to take a seat. Sherlock took off his coat, hung it on the coat hanger next to them, then did as told. A quick but enthusiastic thought ran through his mind : ''(?)

''But you know, I do not drink wine; it decreases my deduction skills greatly,'' stated Sherlock.

Moriarty chuckled, then sighed, desperate. He leant closer to Sherlock with his usual devious smirk, elbows on the table before whispering :

''Oh, but I didn't mean to get you drunk, my dear Sherlock; I merely want you to enjoy this meal with a quality wine. Can't one desire the well-being of his guest?''

The consulting criminal gave him a charming, possibly meant to be a seductive one, eyes sparkling with what seemed to be dark satisfaction to Sherlock before sinking back into his cosy chair. The great detective couldn't suppress a raise of eyebrow at his...companion's... sentence and actions.

''Stop this false speech of yours, please. You never cared about no one's well-being; mostly not mine. Plus, may I remind you of the explosives?'' retorted Sherlock quite coldly with his icy blue eyes fixed on his archnemesis.

Moriarty's grip on the fork he was fiddling with tightened. Sherlock also perceived his tense jaw. Only a few seconds and more fiddling later, Jim chuckled sourly, as if trying to get back on track, hide his ragingly hurt ego, and find the right words to play a dirty trick on Sherlock; he sure seemed unease, which the great detective found bizarre, even though delicious, knowing how the other man was always so in control of himself. He worked hard as to not let appear the smirk that was threatening his lips. Instead, he frowned, putting both of his elbows on the small table, leaning towards Jim with his chin on his hands, as to brace himself for whatever was coming.

''True. But not anymore : it changed,'' the mean one replied.

''Why all of a sudden? Last thing I knew, you tried to kill me and my companion...'' dryly counterattacked Sherlock, his frowning amplified, and eyes even colder than before. ''Also, that bullet shot through my window and into my wall earlier.''

''Oh, but Sherlockཀ These are such trivial details, nowཀ It's okay : I've... realized that...some ''things'' needed changes if I really meant for us to live something greater than last time...'' the other one replied with a sugary tone of voice, and a way too desirable facial expression whilst he approached his chair to the table as to evidently be closer to Sherlock.

The great detective raised a high and interrogative eyebrow at this so surprisingly changeable man, then straightened up on his chair as to try and separate a bit the distance between them; he suspected Moriarty to be scheming something really awful against him because there could simply be no way he'd act this sweet innocently, and mostly not on a ''love'' matter nor infatuation, or whatever one'd call this. Although he didn't quite understand what produced such unusual things in him, he could feel shivers coming from his feet up to the root of his hair at observing the other's seemingly innocent as a child face, and hearing that sugary tone of voice. He shook his head slightly as to kick those sensations out, and focused his keen attention on the Napoleon of crime, the one man Sherlock couldn't seem to live without nor refuse anything to (mostly...ཀ)...

''And what is...this ''greater'' something you have in mind...precisely?'' he asked after clearing his throat, a bit hesitant about learning the outcome of the evil mastermind's plan for them both.

''Well...'' Moriarty began, a malicious smirk on his face as he suddenly started to brush his foot against Sherlock's. He noticed Sherlock straightening up even more, tense, and his expression becoming all the more astonished as well as nervous. ''Do you remember that night I went to your house...? Ohཀ I'm sure you doཀ Well, we could do SOOOO~~~ much more than kiss, you know...''

Sherlock kept on frowning as he tried to see past Jim's dark and viciously enigmatic gaze. Was he implying for them to..spend some vulgar time together in a bed...exploring each other's body...? He didn't want to believe itཀ He felt a wave of anxiety hit him, which he tried to hide (poorly, by the way) by shifting on his seat, pretending to get more comfortable.

''I don't think I-'' he started before being cut off quite abruptly.

''Here it is, gentlemenཀ Enjoy the wine.'' exclaimed all falsely happily (so Sherlock observed) the waiter with a still backstabbing-like smile. ''Have you decided?''

Moriarty slowly turned his head to look at the man, smiled cutely as the bottle of wine was being put down gently on the table, and then pouted as he was searching for an answer. Meanwhile, Sherlock noticed Jim was simply taking his time as though to calm down the situation. Also, he couldn't drift his glare away from the waiter; he disliked him. Plus, it seemed he had a close bond with Jim; he was probably paying him well. Sherlock didn't know why it titillated him... So, he just sat there, cold icy eyes staring from the waiter to Jim.

''I'll take the snails with your specialty. Thanks,'' Moriarty ordered, before looking at Sherlock. ''And you, dear?''

''Erm...I'll take your best steak,'' he ordered, feeling a bit tight in his clothes. This scenery was just too bizarre...too normal for the two of them.

The waiter just smiled at them, then walked away pretty rapidly as though he was highly relieved or scared...Sherlock turned his attention back to Moriarty with an expression on his face that seemed to ask what the other was doing by staring at the table. This was all a game... Sherlock was sure of it. Though, he'd be curious to see where Jim'd dare take it...and where he, himself, would follow. His thoughts were suddenly disrupted as his nemesis began another discussion; Sherlock was surprised. He had expected Jim to continue on with his flirting, but this was different...He noticed in his dark eyes that he really wanted an answer to this, and that it was simply a temporary bliss... He'd come back to the subject after Sherlock's answer, of course.

''So...Why did you come today?'' the consulting criminal asked, black eyes that clearly wouldn't accept to receive no answer fixed upon Sherlock's face. ''When I first invited you to lunch with me at Aunty Rosa's, you fled...not quite professionnal of you...Then, when I came over, you wanted me out...So, tell me, why did you come today seeing that on the previous occasions where I came to you, you clearly didn't want to see me?''

Sherlock breathed deeply and slowly, carefully replacing his neutral but stylish tuxedo. He had been dreaded this question since he had set foot in the restaurant. As he was taking his time to answer, gazing into space near Jim, thoughts ran through his mind : True, he had fled, and meant for him to leave. No, this time he hadn't reacted the same way. Why? It was pretty simple : there had been this warning of a bullet, and it clearly meant harm'd happen to Watson if he didn't show himself at The Sundance... So, he had no choice. Plus, he had noticed something else : he had begun to become even more interested by the maniac's plan even though he knew it surely was a death trap at the end. Or at least, the weird act. In three words : curiosity and adrenaline. That was what was driving him, apart from the fact that he still was scared deep inside, and clearly worried for Watson. But, Moriarty didn't need to know all of that... No, that'd be giving him the upper hand, which he already had, but to admit it would bring Sherlock even lower...No, he had to figure out his plan and win. Plain and simple.

''Well, your warning was clear enough. Plus, this whole acting of yours is intriguing me, and I figured that in order to beat you at your own game, and believe me I will, I had to stop running away and confront you. Thus, my presence here at this table.'' he explained, purposely leaving the threat aimed at Watson out of the conversation.

He breathed heavily, then gazed at Moriarty with confidence in his eyes, and hope in his chest that he wouldn't find his small fear at his best friend being hurt. Sherlock saw his enemy pouting in consideration, then straightening himself on his chair.

''Good enough. Though, I'll remind you for the last and umpteenth time that this is NOT a game,'' Moriarty said, glaring at him so seriously it almost hurt just to look at him. This wasn't a warning : it was obviously a dareཀ ''But I'm quite glad that you finally heard reason and stopped fleeing...It was starting to hurt me, darling...I just wanted to spend some time getting to know you better, you see...''

And there he was, suddenly and gently holding Sherlock's hand in his, with one of those cutest smiles only him was able to pull off, staring right at him... Sherlock just gulped and tensed; he had to admit it, even though he acted all confident, he was at a loss with his feet hanging over the void in this game. But it still managed to trigger thrill and a deadly curiosity in him, one would say.

Chapter Text

Jim smiled sweetly as he observed Sherlock getting all tense at their hands touching. He began to caress it softly, but then after a few seconds only, the consulting detective couldn’t endure it any longer and quickly removed his hand from their intimacy, and put it on his lap. Jim experienced troubles not chuckling - It was plain to see that Sherlock found this situation to be much awkward, if not the most awkward he had ever had. And yet, he didn’t know that what was to come was even worse... Moriarty grinned with this dark sparkle in his eyes that one could never be so sure of what it meant...besides problems for the one who saw it, of course. Infuriatingly, all he got in response from Sherlock to his previous speech about the detective hurting him by constantly fleeing, and that all this act wasn’t a game, was a snort. But, Moriarty didn’t panic...he knew he`d win in the end. He always won, no matter what were the odds. Sherlock’d just have to learn it...A lesson marvelously taught to the great consulting detective. So, Jim shifted on his seat, a permanent smirk on his face as well as apparent interest in his guest.


‘’But tell me, Moriarty, I remember you giving me the hint ‘’You’‘...It’s plain to see for anyone that you’ve been quite...around me these last few weeks... I get that your hint meant that you’d be almost glued to me, if I can say so. But, what else does it mean? I can see your act, and I know that means I’m your target, but there must be something else...What’s behind all this, Moriarty? What else is there behind that hint?’‘ asked Sherlock after having cleared his throat, looked away for a long period of time, before putting his elbows on the table, his chin in his hands whilst staring seriously at his handsome nemesis.


Because yes, he had noticed his enemy’s natural and proud beauty. But it was more on a simple observation scale than actual attraction; though, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel any butterflies in his stomach whilst looking at the other man. But right now, this was irrelevant, put the fact aside that he was, indeed, experiencing those butterflies at this right moment...

Moriarty shifted on his seat, bit his lower lip, and sighed as he stared at Sherlock straight in the eyes; he didn’t seem too happy about the question. Sherlock titled his head slightly, his attention focusing on the answer he was expecting to come out of his nemesis’ foul mouth at any second now...


‘’Well...Telling you wouldn’t be much fun seeing how it’d end this little game of ours pretty quickly, right?’‘ Moriarty answered, smirking, but still looking a bit annoyed. ‘’Plus, the answer is quite obvious, don’t you th-----‘’


‘’Here you go, sires! You’re served,’‘ gleefully interrupted the waiter, as he put down the plates in front of them. ‘’Snails and the specialty of the house, and the best steak. Bon appétit!’‘


He grinned before walking away, looking all thrilled as if their meals were the best thing to have ever been made. After his departure, Moriarty smiled and stared down at his meal before tucking in with his fork. Sherlock frowned and titled his head, as he tried to figure out the meaning of his nemesis’ riddle - he had never liked riddles, and this moment sure wasn’t helping his opinion of them. He also wondered why Moriarty had been annoyed at his question and what he was hiding... The consulting detective knew there had to be a twist, but what was the essence of it? Why did he focus on him and had stopped killing people to surround him with a game? Sherlock was then hit with realization and he muttered a curse under his breath - it was so obvious! Moriarty’s new game was him. He did not need any bomb nor civilian, all he needed was to break Sherlock...Thus, he’d win. How had he missed all of that? Probably because he had been too focused on the unusual fact that his greatest enemy seemed to have an interest in him...which none had ever had for him, so he had been confused. Now, the detective told himself if he’d want to win this over Jim, he’d have to play it very carefully...Because this could get to his heart, and he should not let it reach his head, right? Plus, he knew Jim had found good strings, now Sherlock would just have to fake continuity, and turn this against his nemesis. Easy peasy, as Jim would say...but somewhere deep inside his squeezed guts, Sherlock was anxious...he knew something would go wrong. But he did not have time to think about it right now. He had to play this game. And quickly.


‘’Hm? What did you just say?’‘ asked Moriarty, suddenly looking up from his plate, frowning slightly and looking a bit aggravated. He knew that Sherlock either disliked his explanation, or he just had figured something out. The latter wasn’t appreciated at all, so he had to remedy to it. Just in case. And he had the perfect idea of how...


‘’Oh. Simply that I had forgotten to ask for the salad - it’s easier to digest, you know,’‘ answered Sherlock, an evidently forced smile on, already engaging into his plan of keeping up with the lost front so Jim wouldn’t understand he’d grasped the most important concept of this game.


Jim tried his best to not scowl - it was such a lame lie coming from the detective. Oh well, what had he expected? None was better at everything than Jim was. It was a known fact since long ago. Instead, he held his gaze for a moment, then simply said with the corners of his mouth twitching into a warm smile: ‘’Of course...’‘


They kept on smiling at each other, turning this into some sort of contest. Neither wanted to look away because for them, geniuses who always succeed at thinking ahead of everyone else, it would simply mean they had forfeited.  And obviously, none was about to. After a little while, Moriarty decided to make the first move by picking at his food again in a secret attempt to coax Sherlock and appear a bit more vulnerable than him. On purpose. He ate a snail before he glanced up at Sherlock just in time to notice the man’s relieved yet puzzled expression. He was probably content with Jim giving in first, but also pondering over why Jim had even given up since it definitely wasn’t his style. It looked like it was time to put things back into Moriarty’s track... So, he scooted closer to the edge of his seat, subtly, then moved his foot against Sherlock’s leg for the second time, leaning forward as if this were an intimately heart-warming conversation.


‘’Darling, you do remember when I told you we could do more than the sweet kissing we shared in your study...hmmmm?’‘ Jim cooed, fluttering his eyelids in hopes to infatuate the clever detective - if it weren’t already done. Sherlock just nodded slowly, sinking deeper in his seat as the brushing of Jim’s foot against his leg made him uncomfortable, which was reinforced when he saw Jim’s hand grabbing his again. Although the touch was soft, warm and pleasant, it disturbed him a little and he had to even exaggerate his reactions so Jim wouldn’t know he had understood the main layer to his plan. Thus, he swallowed hard, glancing nervously at Jim, showing how unease and unused to this he was.


‘’Well... You know, first time I saw you... I knew we were made for each other, Sherlock... So, why not take the next step into exploring each other? It’s just another experiment and it would be a great addition to your already vast knowledge, don’t you think? I do. And you wouldn’t want to miss any piece of information you can get, right, genius consulting detective...?’‘ Jim asked in a sugary voice with a grin, his eyes locked onto Sherlock’s. ‘’I know you’ve never done it, so as to put you at your ease, I’ll just stand up, walk away, and if you reach me before I get into the cab waiting for me outside, I’ll know you want to explore me as much as I want to explore you, thus making a great experiment together... Okay? All secretly... No obligations, just a strong suggestion... No rush...’he whispered, gently letting go of Sherlock’s hand as he stood up.


He glanced one last time at Sherlock, who observed him nervously, then Jim buttoned the top of his suit and left casually like any normal person would. Sherlock stayed there, swallowing hard as he didn’t know what to do. He watched Jim push the backdoor open and disappear - it appeared from the distance to the cab probably waiting in the front of the restaurant, Sherlock deduced he had no more than 2 minutes and a half to make up his mind. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but Jim was right: he had never slept with anyone on a sexual purpose... He wasn’t ashamed of it. He had never been. But the way his nemesis had offered it to him wasscary and yet intriguing. Plain and simple. His hands were shaking over his untouched steak. It did seem important as a discovery through an experiment, but was he ready to give this to Moriarty? After all, it was just a plan to break Sherlock, wasn’t it? The consulting detective sighed, understanding that if he wanted to beat Moriarty at his own game, he’d actually have to play this part even though he didn’t feel like giving him this secret card to his own person, but since that was the next chapter...Well... Because they both knew that usually, Sherlock wouldn’t miss out on a new experiment, mostly if he were already hooked on the other man - exactly what he forced himself to put on as a façade. Moriarty’d never get to his heart. And mostly not burn it. Sherlock’d make sure of it! After another huge sigh, having gathered all of his mental strength and courage for it’d need them without a doubt, he put his hands on the table and stood up. He looked around only to lock eyes with the waiter from earlier and frowned. The weird guy looked as if he were killing him in his mind - he guessed it was because the man thought Jim was pissed or something like that. Sherlock still didn’t trust that waiter.


1 minute and 30 seconds now.


Sherlock walked calmly to the front door of the restaurant - no need to rush for he’d probably get to Jim before he got into the taxi by simple logic of the time it took Jim to walk around the block to get to the front. He had to do this. The detective clenched his fists to give himself more determination and courage. He’d bring this criminal down, without getting caught in his web. But then, as he pushed the door open, a quick and vivid memory of their shared kiss in his flat shot before his eyes and he froze. It had only been a surprising new event in his lifetime, so this is why it suddenly came back, right? Nothing more. And most importantly: nothing to worry about. Right? He shook his head then ran to the side of the restaurant and bumped into Moriarty, who glared for a fraction of second before grinning as he raised an eyebrow.


‘’I see you’ve accepted...’‘ he murmured proudly so none else could hear, caressing Sherlock’s chest before getting into the cab and waving to Sherlock to do the same.


Sherlock gulped and breathed deeply, knowing there was no turning back now, and slid down on the seat next to Jim. Despite all of his focus and energy spent on trying to stop it, the butterflies in his stomach seemed to multiply as he re-played their meeting at this restaurant over and over again in his mind. Plus, it increased even more when he glanced at Jim or thought about how he had weirdly, but kindly offered him options about this...This wasn’t right. This shouldn’t be. And unfortunately, deep down, it was starting to scare Sherlock.



Chapter Text

Watson watched the creepily creaking door, lips pursued, until it closed. He couldn’t believe Sherlock had left him alone like this… Watson didn't know what was in the SMS, only that Sherlock received one and that right after, the detective simply stormed out of 221 B with a wink in his direction. The ex-soldier sighed and shook his head – sometimes he didn’t know what to do with the man. He limped closer to the back wall, staring at the floor as he wondered why the hell Sherlock had left in such a hurry. The way he had strongly suggested to Watson to stay home for his own safety was out of character for the cold man – he never pushed Watson away from a chance to investigate a case with him. But then again, Moriarty had come back… True, Watson’s safety, along with Sherlock’s, was in danger. But that was just an exciting risk that came with the job, wasn’t it? His thinking that Sherlock was actually giddy and looking towards meeting Jim Moriarty again was increasing… greatly. Too greatly for his taste. It was obvious. At least to him – Sherlock probably didn’t realise this and just went after his arch nemesis - or so he called him - just for the game’s sake. Yeah, yeah…

John’s eyes fell onto the hole the bullet had made. Frowning, he ran his fingers over it again…  It bothered him a great deal that Sherlock had forbidden him to come along. If only he had known what the message had said, he could have tracked Sherlock down just so as to get an idea of what was happening. But one thing was certain: this, the bullet - Jim’s warning -, and Sherlock happily running to him weren’t good…  John suspected that something really bad was bound to happen to his best friend. The hint ‘’you’’ wasn’t innocent… Somehow, he felt in his heart, surrounded with fear and deep concern, that Moriarty’d play with Sherlock’s feelings. John had to stop him. And there was only one thing to do in such a situation… Well, there were at least three in John’s opinion, but he’d resort to them in ascending order, hoping to get a hold of Sherlock before it was too late.

He turned round, now facing the living room’s cracked window, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket. He promptly dialled the consulting detective’s number, put the phone to his ear and impatiently tapped his foot hard on the floor as he waited. The damn proud man had to answer… Otherwise John’d get pretty worried. Not that he wasn’t already… but he could do without more stress, thank you. ‘’Come ooooon, pick up!’’ he begged Sherlock, though he wasn’t there. But that was exactly the matter. John shook his head and sighed – the other man still hadn’t answered. So, he dialled again, wishing to God this time it would work. After a few seconds, he came to the conclusion that God didn’t want his wish to be granted, therefore forcing him to hang up and put the phone back into his pocket.

‘’Bloody hell!’’ he exclaimed, scowling at the whole room. His fists were clenched with rage and worry – how could that man even think Watson would be okay with him going off like that whilst they were both in danger?! Sometimes, he swore Sherlock wasn’t human…

Grunting, he pressed his right index and thumb against the lines of his nose, pondering on his second option.  He disliked it, but hey, it wasn’t as if he rejoiced over the fact that his best friend was actually with their most dangerous enemy at the moment. A living nightmare. He could feel in his guts that something was about to go wrong. He knew Moriarty would worm his way into Sherlock’s heart, and he’d have to save his best friend by stopping the madman by every means he had at his disposition. Because no matter what he’d tell Sherlock, with how he reacted earlier, it was plain to see that nothing would convince him to stay away from Moriarty… At least, not long enough so he’s safe.

On this lovely thought, John rushed out the door - or was it ‘’he limped rapidly’’? - . He reckoned that, perhaps with a dash of luck, he could find the man wandering around the streets, or sitting in front of a restaurant window or in the back. It was the best chance he had, and truthfully, he wouldn’t be able to sleep soundly tonight if he didn’t try it. There were two facts he was certain of: 1- Moriarty had invited Sherlock to a meeting somewhere and 2- Watson had obviously been forbidden his act of presence through Sherlock, though he highly suspected it was one of Moriarty’s directives. If John put two and two together (and he did), it meant that something bad or so was brewing between the two of them and he had to act quickly, and that he could maybe find them simply by looking around the city, hoping they hadn’t gone elsewhere more… What were the words? Ah, yes! Elsewhere more dangerous and private… Although this also could happen, he still walked down London’s main streets. His damn leg hurt like hell now that Sherlock was gone, but he didn’t want to focus on it. Instead, his eyes roamed over banners, windows, streets, people, everything, really, just so he could trace his friend’s whereabouts through a hint or… from seeing him at the corner of a street or feet away from him.

‘’Please, God… Just let that fool be all right…’’ he muttered under his breath as he kept looking.

Sighing, he took his cell phone out of his pocket for the second time this day. Even though the consulting detective was a slender, arrogant know-it-all without any apparent feeling or emotion whatsoever, he still was his fantastic best friend who, unknowingly (or so Watson reckoned), had given him a new and exciting life. And if it came down to it, doubtlessly, the ex-soldier could kill again to save him. Just another, though more despicable, madman. He wouldn’t even hesitate. That’s how much that detective meant to him. Platonically or not, he had never cared about answering this silent question, but he knew that he needed him in his life and he was ready to do everything necessary to keep him there. Got it, Moriarty? Anyways, his idea consisted of calling Sherlock again – never twice without thrice, right? Plus, this time, Sherlock might even pick up… or so he wished very very hard. He’d save Sherlock from Moriarty’s tight grip. And unfortunately, such a dark obsessive grip he seemed to have on the genius… Consciously or not. Though, Watson’d eat his hat that with Moriarty it was always a sadly conscious grip.

And John being John, he’d try and stop this at any cost.


Chapter Text

Jim grinned victoriously at Sherlock, sitting next to him in the cab. He had offered him a choice wrapped in goodwill and temptation, and the man had just jumped on it. He couldn’t be more proud: in a few minutes, he’d own Sherlock. Body, pleasure and mind. After that, he’d probably own Sherlock’s heart too – just the way the man came running to him was a clear sign of it. Poor boy was shy and confused. No need to worry, daddy Moriarty would remedy to this much appropriately. Jim’s mouth twitched as an absurd thought crossed his mind: Could it be that, somewhere, he liked the detective? No! No, obviously not! He didn’t even truly care about the man, only about his intellect and the desire to own him so he could break him, away from his disgusting little pet and prove himself to be the grand winner. But then, it’d be back to square one: he’d be alone and without entertainment again until he died… Jim, sickened by this harsh truth, felt a cold shiver down his spine. No, he despised the very fact of being the only one of his genius – all his life he had been looking for a worthy adversary. So, he’d have to break him slowly… Just to savour this enticing rivalry a bit longer. Yes… And if he wanted to have even more fun with him, it had to be when they were alone. Exactly like he had planned. He was just too good. None could ever beat him. Not even Sherlock, though he was the best toy he had ever found. Suddenly repulsed by the high improbability he might like or need the other man, he let out a sound of exasperation and gripped the door handle tightly. He took a deep breath, knowing he’d have to appear calm so he’d have Sherlock wrapped around his finger by the end of the day. Nonchalantly drumming his fingers on the seat – because he had to gain a good façade back - , he turned to Sherlock, smiling comfortingly as he gently grabbed his hand.

‘’Don’t worry – I’ll make it easy on you. I’ll be gentle, sweetie…’’ he said in a soft voice, his eyes filled with kindness and care. It was so easy to play the role of an emotional man… So easy to just deceive everyone. And so much more fun being the big bad wolf in disguise than the average villain. Evidently, he wouldn’t let himself be submerged by foolish and useless things that are the feelings, right?

Sherlock stared at him, puzzled and a tad bit afraid, then swallowed and squeezed his hand softly, a small smile playing at his lips as he tried to appear confident. He wasn’t the least reassured, but Moriarty didn’t need to know that. He wished that Jim would look elsewhere so he could get time for a quick trip in his mind palace – he had to try and find ways to solve this case without blowing up his shy and insecure Sherlock subtly hooked on his love for Jim Moriarty cover. It would have been easier hadn’t his enemy been The Spider… Because he knew the other man would be ready to do anything to thwart him and haunt him if he noticed anything suspicious or different – besides feelings – in the consulting detective. Now, if he only could find how to turn the tables on Jim so he’d have no other choice but to fall for him… Then, Sherlock wouldn’t be the only one to get broken, would he? Well, truthfully, he was aiming to not be hurt by this at all, but it seemed that despite everything, flashbacks of the flirting and kissing as well as involuntary eagerness towards what was coming kept on popping up in his mind. Would he really be able to escape it? Because it seemed it was already too late, Sherlock thought…

Jim nodded slowly at the squeezing, enjoying it slightly even though he knew he’d have to keep his focus throughout the whole thing. He had to bring Sherlock down, hadn’t he? He released the detective’s hand, sighed, and just put his own on his knees. A ringtone started playing. It was one of Mozart’s compositions. They both stared at each other – Jim, frowning in apparent disbelief, whilst Sherlock looked apologetically unease. Moriarty watched him take the phone out of his coat’s pocket and turn down the call before putting it back. The consulting criminal was pretty sure it was that damn Watson trying to get in touch with Sherlock. It was plain to see that the bullet hadn’t been enough to convince him to stay away from this game and let him keep the toy. Another warning should come in handy later on… Jim didn’t tell Sherlock a word about this. Instead, he simply rearranged his suit and looked straight before him – to let him know he knew it was Watson wouldn’t be professional and it probably wouldn’t help putting him at ease… to make him trust Jim slightly. He swallowed his rage at the doctor and just hoped they’d get to the hotel soon. Actually, he didn’t even need to hope for the banner was coming into sight. The taxi driver pulled in the hotel’s parking lot, and turned round. Jim rolled his eyes and took money from his expensive leather wallet that he gave to him. He smiled at Sherlock – who looked even more stressed out than before, if that was possible -, then got out of the cab with a wink at him. Sherlock gulped and did the same, without the wink on his part, before putting his hands in his coat’s pockets anxiously.

‘’Here?’’ asked Sherlock, a bit disappointed at the place.

Jim smirked, eyes gleaming with renewed malice, as he made his way beside his companion on the sidewalk. ‘’You didn’t actually believe I would take you to my house, now, hmmm?’’

He raised an eyebrow and just chuckled. Sherlock was so dim-witted from times to time. He sometimes wondered how he could have gotten so obsessed with that man, but then his heart ached and, clenching his teeth, he remembered how they were so much alike, as if made for each other, and how they needed one another… But then again, how had the other one even hoped Moriarty would risk his safety by taking the detective to his home? He was so cutely hopeful when he wanted to. That just excited the criminal even more as well as making him feel worse. He’d have to break him, and soon. He wouldn’t lose another time and surely not be beaten at his own game! If, somewhere, that was what the detective was wishing for, he’d find himself to be wrong in not so long…

Jim chuckled and walked forward, pushing the door open and asked the receptionist the key to the room 13. ‘’I hope for your sake that you’re not superstitious,’’ mused Jim, glancing at Sherlock who was now standing beside him, looking troubled. ‘’But then again, isn’t being superstitious boring and redundant, which you’re not?’’

He winked at his companion then waved at him to follow him, calling him ‘’sweetie’’ again. They got into an elevator and Jim tried an ordinary chitchat but Sherlock seemed not at all interested by it, more like on a defensive and stressful edge. And then, startling them both though they only reacted slightly; Jim’s eyes quickly locking onto Sherlock’s pocket with a dark gleam in them whilst Sherlock gasped and looked alarmed. The sweet music of the same Mozart’s compositions rang to their ears. Sherlock stuck his hand in his pocket and rushed to take the phone out, rapidly pressing on the ‘’cancel call’’ button, eyes wide with what seemed to be light fear and stress. Moriarty slowly looked away, faking to not be interesting nor infuriated by any of this as the taller man put it once again back into his coat – that damn dog was such a nuisance! He promised to himself to tear him apart, almost literally, near the end of his scheme. Yes… He’d finally get rid of that less than desirable and annoying thing supposedly called John Watson. He knew that some owners ended up caring for their pets, but he hadn’t thought about the pet being so needy and dependent on the owner… He grimaced with disdain before clearing his face of any bad emotion just in time so Sherlock wouldn’t notice anything or so. Nevertheless, the criminal kept the chitchat up, beaming as if he truly enjoyed it, until they were out of the elevator and standing in front of their rented room. He opened the door and let Sherlock, like a true gentleman, go first. He had to appear inoffensive. He then locked it behind him and turned, grinning. Sherlock gulped difficultly and appeared like he wished to be somewhere else…

‘’Come on, now, I told you I’d be gentle with you… You deserve it, sexy~ Now, let’s play, just you and me… You’ll see, you’ll love it,’’ he whispered in Sherlock’s ear. He smirked as he saw him shiver from the corner of his eyes. By the end of this, he’d be in love with the Napoleon of Crime, it was just too obvious… He was already inclined toward him, admittedly or not. Jim got even closer to him and softly put a hand on his cheek, staring deep into the detective’s clear blue eyes and brought his lips to his in a tender kiss. He’d fuck that man hard and he’d have no escape route: he’d end up falling for his love for the criminal. That’s how it would go with Jim’s plan. And he sure damned planned to follow it, now, if only Sherlock would too… And if not, well, Jim’d make sure the other regretted it deeply. Even more than the horrible breaking he had in mind already to punish him for winning –temporarily, of course- twice over him. He could feel the desire rising up in him, closely followed by his never-ending dark obsession that somehow contained the scary excitation at the thought of controlling the other man, owning Sherlock Holmes, making him his before breaking his most marvellous and entertaining toy. Because nothing could ever last, right?

As their soft lips touched, their breath and saliva mixing together and their mutual arousal becoming more and more present, Jim felt his heartbeat increase as well as a soothing and warm feeling wash over him…Now was the beginning of the end. Or should it preferably be called: the fall.

Chapter Text

Sherlock had been unease enough at the first call from John and he surely could have done without the second one – it was embarrassing. Moreover, it didn’t help at all with the situation he was in nor with whom: standing in the elevator with Jim Moriarty, his arch nemesis, ready to go into the hotel room 13 in order to physically explore that precise person, and all of that whilst pondering over the crucial matter of how to make the other one fall in love with him and yet still appear to be, himself, secretly already in love with Jim as he tried to calculate the turning of the tables so as to receive the least damage possible. However, he had reckoned he had made it clear to Watson – as an excuse weakly wrapped with real concern to just go and meet Moriarty again – that he shouldn’t come nor try to reach him in any way for his own safety for all the time he was with Jim. Unfortunately for them both - mostly for Sherlock, it seemed – Watson hadn’t listened much and appeared to not worry much about his sake but more about Sherlock’s whereabouts; didn’t Watson get the full concept of this?! He couldn’t risk jeopardising his allotted time with Moriarty, mostly whenWatson’s calling seemed to be threatening it as he observed Jim’s features changing from soft to angry then back to happy – and yes, no matter how hard the criminal tried to conceal it, Sherlock had noticed. He wasn’t the only consulting detective in the world for no reason; He could see what others couldn’t. But Jim was his best amusement, his most recurrent entertaining case. There were no existing thrills as good as Moriarty’s schemes and, admittedly sourly, Sherlock loved the excitation and good puzzle it gave him. Jim’d give him a puzzle and Sherlock, a bit shamefully but not enough for he had waited for it all his life and now thrived on it, would always dance along. Happily, even. He pressed the ‘’Cancel call’’ button with the tip of his index and quickly put it back in his coat’s pocket, wishing to whatever foolish higher power that existed – if it did, Sherlock thought with an inwardly hateful sound – that John wouldn’t ruin his only chance to get Jim even more hooked on him than he already was. Even more obsessed. Such a turn-off calls could be at the wrong time. He knew John meant well, but he didn’t need help… Actually, right now, he didn’t want it. It was just him and Moriarty, about to head toward a more intimate kind of discovery. The thought of John leaving 221B to walk around, trying to find him hit his mind; Please, don’t let him do something stupid and ordinary like this! He could feel cold sweat trickling down his temples at his idea.

When the doors opened, Sherlock rushed out the elevator, half-wanting to escape the thoughts in his head about John and half-hoping Jim would take it as an indirect sign of him being anxious to experience this. After Jim unlocked the door to room 13 and gestured him to enter first, Sherlock did as expected, though reluctantly, and walked to the closest he could get to the centre of the room – which meant, near the bed. As he waited for Jim to approach him, he realized where he was standing and how unconsciously – as if preparing for what was to come – he had come closer to the bed. Jim’s soft hand was suddenly on his cheek, and their eyes locked onto each other’s for a short while before their lips touched, their breathing and saliva mixing… Sherlock tensed, unused to this proximity – he had been kissed one time and one time only, and it was by Jim… Again. It wasn’t unpleasant. If he were being honest with himself, it was even good, interesting… But seeing how this concept was new to him –don’t get him wrong, he knew how people slept together, he just hadn’t experienced it first hand… -, he was unsure about how to proceed. He knew he appeared cold and distant, but he didn’t know what to do next. Though, as a wave of pleasure and soothing feeling ran through his whole body, he slowly relaxed. He figured he really needed to do something now, or it would be suspicious – this goes without saying it would be a long long time of discovery too … Maybe he should kiss back?

Much awkwardly, Sherlock ran his hands up Jim’s back to rest on his shoulders. He then began to insert his tongue inside the criminal’s mouth until he didn’t even notice they had reached the passionate point. Without even meaning to, Sherlock felt good and forgot for a short moment about his plan – it was so new, this perspective of being in some kind of relationship, even if it were twisted beyond normal people’s hopes and dreams, and being finally interesting for someone… Finally being someone’s number one, noticed, kind of appreciated for his true potential, his true self, other than just for his intellectual prowess that saved people here and there… Through the kiss, Sherlock noticed that, regardless of the consulting criminal’s usual rough and impatient self, Jim was being gentle with him, not struggling for dominance, and massaging his nape almost lovingly - it was somewhat frightening. But Sherlock, suddenly shaking himself back into what was right and what his mission was about, broke the kiss, staring widely at Jim as though troubled by all this – which, secretly, he was.

‘’Ooohh~, I see you’re all cold about this. Don’t worry, I’m gonna warm you good~’’ Jim cooed with that precisely naughty twinkle in his eyes, observing Sherlock hungrily before laughing whole-heartedly – or so it seemed at first sight.

Sherlock managed to grimace a smile meaning to show his excitation and uncertainty towards all this. Although it was very hard and demanding for him to act all vulnerable and defenceless, as would one fancying a person would soon open her heart and give him her body… Such suppressed concerns and silent boiling rage at such false humility. But then, Sherlock didn’t have time to think of a reply that he found himself being pushed on top of the bed, with Jim lying on him and grinning as he rested his cheek in his left hand. The detective gulped, eyes round, as he felt for one of the rare times it happened helpless, and yet a tad bit aroused as their groins were rubbing together through the material of their trousers. Jim’s eyes were running over his face hungrily before lingering on his own with such a look wolfish look it made Sherlock’s skin shiver with goose bumps.

‘’Look, sexy, I know it’s your very first time…’’ he whispered huskily whilst Sherlock responded with a hard gulping and anxious look. ‘’So, just for the occasion, I’ll be twice more careful so as to not hurt you too much, darling…’’

Fingers trailed down Sherlock’s jaw to his shirt teasingly – they stopped at the white collar, tugging at it gently. Sherlock’s heartbeat had greatly increased and sweat trickled down on his temples. He looked up from his shirt to fix his stare into Jim’s eyes and noticed he still had that scary and breathtaking wolfish smile of his on. Let’s say it didn’t help easing him… at all. It made him even more worried about all this, if it were possible. It was true, though, that it was Sherlock’s first time, and it came to him with all the usual feelings of stress, uncertainty, feverish excitation, surrounding it, just like common people experience it… Although he tried to hide it, it still managed to show itself through his sweat, agitated hands, dilated pupils and fast swallowing. No matter how much he cursed himself inwardly for acting and even feeling this like common people, he still couldn’t lie that he was getting all the more eager to have a go at this new perspective of the human body… Of course, maybe James Moriarty wasn’t the best and most careful one to live this with, Sherlock was aware of that, but as curiosity increased, he thought that it could only bring a bit of spiciness into it. Plus, wasn’t Moriarty his equal? It could only improve their wicked relationship, in a dangerous way…Though, he doubted highly that the other one would be as gentle and careful as he promised him. One should never trust that Spider, and Sherlock knew it too well.

As Jim chuckled and began unbuttoning Sherlock’s shirt, the detective rattled his brain so as to find something, anything, to say that would encourage the criminal into thinking that he was getting weaker towards his charm and slowly falling for him… even more than before. Yes, that was how he had to play it… But, what should he say?!

‘’Thank you. I am trusting you with this, Jim…’’

There! That was the best one and Sherlock knew he had won with this. As he rejoiced inwardly over his rich choice of words, knowing the criminal couldn’t resist it, he saw a quick glint of surprised and pride in Jim’s eyes before he narrowed his eyes in a way that proved all of the darkness, cruelty, and bad intentions that lay within him , a smirk making its way to his face. Upon witnessing this, Sherlock shivered with disgust, but rapidly smiled awkwardly at Jim, hoping to make it pass as stress of the first time. Jim simply smiled back and suddenly took off Sherlock’s jacket, forcing him to move a bit to do so and tore his white shirt open as well. Sherlock’s eyes widened such as one would think they’d pop out of their sockets.

So it was starting.

Jim, with a mischievous grin on that somewhat scared Sherlock toward what was to come, leaned forward and kissed his jaw line down to the hollow in his neck. Sherlock stretched his neck almost unconsciously, liking the dizzy sensation it gave him, to give him an easier access and more space to explore. Snickering at this sight, Jim grinned and kissed him           languorously, trailing his fingers leisurely down Sherlock’s chest. They stopped at the hem of his trousers, tugging teasingly at it. Sherlock gasped, broking the kiss, then stared at Jim in surprise.

‘’Well, now, don’t tell me you didn’t expect to get sexily naked for this experiment, Sherlock…’’ Jim teased with his eyebrows wiggling and a grin plastered on his face.

Sherlock swallowed, licked his lips and nodded, silently agreeing. He couldn’t help feeling a bit reluctant, even though it was thrilling in some ways… Jim then unzipped Sherlock’s pants and took off his own jacket, now sitting on Sherlock’s lap. ‘’Don’t you want to take off my shirt yourself…?’’ he offered in a sugary tone of voice, grinning like a shark, with his eyes gleaming with amusement.

Sherlock gave in. He did his best to sit in this situation, then reached for Jim’s shirt and unbuttoned it without any tremor in his hands, nor anything that could blow his calm cover where under it  lay stress and insecurity towards that whole new event. As Sherlock took off Jim’s shirt, the criminal kept on murmuring him words of encouragement such as ‘’Go on, go on~ You wouldn’t want to miss out on my bare skin, riiight~?’’. It sure didn’t help him focus, but nevertheless, it secretly aroused him a little. More than he already was, that is. He hoped that Jim hadn’t noticed the small bulge in his trousers now… He had known for a long time that fear could render a man impotent. Despite that fact, he wondered how come he was having an erection… And in half a second, he came to the conclusion that his curiosity and growing excitation – against his will – were the cause of this. It reminded him of the rare times his body had betrayed him, forcing him to tremble with fear or doubt himself. And it was exactly what was happening. A silent fight with himself within.

When Jim’s shirt was finally tossed to the side of the bed, Sherlock let his eyes roam over his chest, quickly taking in the beautiful pallor of his even skin.

‘’Now, now, close that mouth, you’ll have enough time to admire it later~’’ Jim cooed, chuckling softly before roughly grabbing Sherlock’s hair with one hand and kissing him passionately. His left hand tugged again at his trousers before yanking them off.

Sherlock gasped and tensed, breaking the kiss as he observed Moriarty with a shocked look, leant on his elbows. His breathing was deep and jerky due to sudden realization and obvious anxiousness. Jim simply grinned then caressed Sherlock’s bulge – the other man, taken aback by this move, titled his head back, moaning as a good sensation shot up his genitals to his head. He could head Jim chuckling faintly, but he was just too preoccupied by his own dizziness and pleasure. Of course, Sherlock had touched himself – purely for science – once…or maybe twice… or was it thrice? Anyways, he had done it when younger to experience what orgasms were and how his body functioned. But it had stopped there – he had never actually slept with anyone. Yet. And this was a huge part of the reason why he had agreed to do it with Jim – to experience it. He had reckoned than the tension between them and their… equality as to an intelligence degree, would place Jim in the top of his list so as to with whom to do it the first time. It, of course, wasn’t because he was falling for him… Because he wasn’t, was he?

Sherlock looked back at Jim, panting softly, with a look that subtly, but efficiently, asked for more.

‘’Ooohh~ It looks like sexy Sherlock’s getting all loving and naughty~’’ Jim teased before snickering. ‘’We’ll have to remedy to that, won’t we~?’’

And he slid his left hand into Sherlock’s pants, grabbing his length and softly pulling it out the material. Grinning as Sherlock gulped, obviously stressed out of his wits – he was so cute! -, he then began to pump it. First, at a mild pace, then always a bit faster… He could hear Sherlock’s breath becoming huskier until it reached the panting point. Jim’s eyes gleamed with malice and dark desire as he slowly took off Sherlock’s pants so he could appreciate the whole view.

No matter how hard he had wanted to stop himself, Sherlock panted and titled his head back again as Jim pumped his cock. He could feel it getting harder as waves of sensation shot through his whole body and excitation increased. Jim, for now, hadn’t been lying – he was being gentle, yet, surprisingly skilled at that. Suddenly, the pumping stopped, which made Sherlock frown and stare at Jim with puzzlement written all over his face. Jim just smirked, bringing his index to his mouth and sucking on it as he ran his right hand over Sherlock’s bare and delicious chest. It took a while for Sherlock to understand, due to the haze of lingering sensations still clouding his judgement, and when he did, his eyes grew wide.

‘’Well, we have to prepare you for a… bigger event, don’t we?’’ Jim whispered before smiling. ‘’I would’ve loved to be giving you the choice, but since I’m the teacher and you’re the student, I guess it goes to you, right, my dear?’’

Jim’s eyes narrowed and had this glint that ordered the other one to agree otherwise it would end badly. Sherlock just nodded as if dazed with the perspective of what Jim was about to do and the pain it could give him. And yet, somehow, he didn’t mind giving in… for even though he had his doubts, somewhere inside he knew Jim was right and would keep on being gentle. As surprising as it may sound.

Jim ran his hand down Sherlock’s left leg and thigh and poked at his entrance with his wet finger before sliding it in. When he did, Sherlock clenched his jaw and gripped at the sheets, stifling a grunt of pain. Jim licked his lips as he observed Sherlock – it was so satisfying -, and moved his finger around the whole so as to slack it a bit before he inserted his dick in it. ‘’Shhh, shhh, darling…’’ he whispered as he leaned over his tall prey, dropping a few kisses on his jaw then on his lips. After a moment, Jim pulled his finger out and took off his own trousers and pants. Then, he grabbed his own cock and pumped it a bit so it was hard enough to do as he planned. With a smile meant to be reassuring to the man lying on the bed that looked like a frightened child, he grabbed Sherlock’s legs and put them on his shoulders, then slowly entered his cock in the detective’s hole. Sherlock let out a cry, arching his back and gripping even more tightly at the sheets – it sent shocks of searing pain through his body.

‘’I’m sorry, glorious, but this is the best way to make it hurt less…Deal with it,’’ explained Moriarty as he waited for Sherlock to calm down before moving faster.

Sherlock could feel the change as Jim thrust faster in him. After a while, he even began to thrust harder. It hurt Sherlock, but the sensations of extreme pleasure were starting to overwhelm him, so he said nothing and moaned – sometimes lowly and others loudly. He noticed that when his moaning was loud, Jim would pant more and thrust even faster. So, he moaned loudly on purpose, enjoying the waves of ecstasy shooting in him. Their panting came to synchronise, sweat trickling down their forehead as they only focused on the fucking. Jim moaned here and then – it was hard for Sherlock to hear them because of his own sounds, but he still caught a few sometimes and thought they were as funny as cute… Without any warning, Jim’s lips were now on his, his tongue licking them so Sherlock would open his mouth. When he did, Sherlock just acted submissive through the whole French kiss whilst Jim assured his place as the dominant one. And Sherlock loved it. It multiplied his excitation as well as his moaning and panting. Jim chuckled, breaking the kiss before kissing the other man’s chest from top to bottom. Sherlock shivered at the sweet feeling it gave him, growing anxious as Jim smirked at him and grabbed his cock again. Without putting an end to the thrusting – which was well-balanced, in Sherlock’s opinion -, he began pumping his hard dick. Sherlock’s moaning only became louder as he arched his back, feeling ever closer to bliss. No words were spoken besides a few ‘’Yes, yes…that’s it’’ from Jim and Sherlock’s whispering the criminal’s name between a few moans.

Sherlock cried out Jim’s name as he came, eyes closed and gripping the sheet so tightly his hand bore no colour anymore. He could hear Jim’s chuckling… When he opened his eyes, what he saw made him swallow with renewed desire – Jim was licking the cum off his fingers, smirking at him with his eyes shining with silent pride and mischief. But then, Jim’s expression changed from amused to hateful in a flash, his thrusting becoming more intense and a bit painful. Sherlock attributed it to Jim also having been excited by his ejaculation. And even though it hurt him, he said nothing, reckoning it could turn out to be another way of reaching climax. He also thought wisely it was best to not disturb the other man when in this stare.

Jim suddenly grabbed Sherlock’s hair pretty roughly, forcing his head back. ‘’You, sexy, are always so exciting~’’ he murmured in his ear, panting. Sherlock groaned with pain, but Jim didn’t seem to care about it at all – it even looked as if he were enjoying the pain. Maybe he was a sadist in bed too… Who knew? Sherlock decided against whining about it and shut up, taking in the rare shocks of pleasure that still came with it, not grudging against Jim for everyone had their own way, right? Jim’s thrusting became even jerkier and more savage, still pulling Sherlock’s head back as his groaning became louder and huskier. Sherlock didn’t even mind anymore – it was fun. He rocked his hips in time with Jim’s thrusting, which he knew stole a moan from the other man. Sherlock couldn’t help smirking at this through it all. And then, as expected, Jim came. The detective could feel it inside him… but he didn’t mind. He thought it was somehow all the more exciting… Sherlock moaned loudly as he arched his back, reaching bliss for the second time, his cum staining the sheets and falling a bit onto Jim’s stomach.

Panting, Sherlock just laughed whole-heartedly as he found out he had loved this little new experience of theirs. Meanwhile, Jim, also panting and groaning, just lay down on his side beside him on the bed, observing Sherlock Holmes, the man he just had fucked.


Chapter Text

For a first time, Sherlock wasn’t displeased at all. He even thought it had been the best opportunity for him… Because, frankly, he had never given it much thought before – besides a few times when he felt really lonely and sadly unnoticed -, and none else had triggered such a thrill and exhilaration from him than his nemesis. So, it was only logical that if the situation were ever to arise, he’d take it… a bit uncertain and frightened inside, but that, none else needed to know.

He lay there, panting and laughing softly as he remembered all of their big moment – Jim’s hand here, his fingers there, and so on… Plus, who had ever thought Sherlock Holmes would ever get laid? Heck! Even himself had never really thought it could happen to him…with the right person. Well, more with the best criminal mastermind he had ever met. Somewhere inside, he knew this couldn’t last forever… but he didn’t care as he threw the thought far away in his mind and locked it up. He didn’t need that piece of information his head was telling him. He wanted to make the best out of it. So, he turned on his side, his head resting on one of his arms, and stared at Moriarty with unbelievably soft eyes. Sherlock felt the heat coming from Moriarty’s body and he liked it… It was proof of what had just happened. He grinned… As soon as he saw Jim’s seemingly innocent expression, his heartbeat increased with a warm and soothing sensation rushing through him. He didn’t know what it was… but it looked like infatuation of scale 2… If Sherlock hadn’t been such a different person from all the rest, he’d have known this was called ‘’affection’’…

Sherlock wanted to whisper a grateful ‘’thank you’’ for making him feel good and finally – even if temporarily – number one in that zone. He also wanted to scream his lungs out and rush out of the hotel, to somewhere safe from this typically human behaviour, but he didn’t.  No. Instead, all he found to say was:

‘’Next time, I’m on top.’’

He didn’t know if what he had said was really funny or if it were because of his serious tone, but Jim smirked and snickered, his eyes gleaming with genuine amusement and happiness for once. At this right instant, Sherlock felt as if he had seen behind Moriarty’s façade and perceived a bit of his real safe. And he wasn’t going to lie saying it wasn’t interesting… nor making him a bit hopeful – shamefully, yes. He scooted a bit closer, meaning to try and share this moment with the other man – he also wanted to learn more about the criminal’s plan and how to break it. He reckoned that if he acted just a bit cuter, it might work to his advantage… and there he could reverse the situation to its best and have Moriarty wrapped around his finger so he’d be the winner with the less hurt out of them both. But that wasn’t easy… nor was it impossible. If he were being honest, he had only one big fear about it, though: that they’d both fall for it, and it’d be a disaster. But it was highly unlikely for them both, no matter how alike they were, they didn’t feel things like normal people did… Or did they, somewhere within? Hadn’t Sherlock secretly wondered what it’d be like to be someone’s crush? To be interesting in the love zone younger? Yes… But then he had understood it could never happen. To him, anyways. Until Jim, his equal, came around… Possibly had he even wondered about the same things somewhere in his life! If there was one thing that could ruin them both was their unsaid need of each other…

Jim suddenly narrowed his eyes, glaring at him, before clenching his teeth and brusquely getting out of bed. Sherlock gasped, sitting bolt upright as he watched Jim gather his clothes in an obvious rage before running to the bathroom, slamming the door. Sherlock frowned and quickly pushed the sheets way, following him awkwardly – he disliked being naked, wandering about a room. He preferred it if he were home alone… or with John sleeping. Whatever. As he reached the door and raised his fist so as to knock, he heard his Mozart ringtone playing somewhere in the room. He rolled his eyes and muttered ‘’ Not again…!’’ before hurrying to find it. It was obviously not the best time to receive yet another call from Watson – because it had to be Watson, no other possible explanation – when Jim had all of a sudden become angry and savage.

‘’TURN YOUR FUCKING PHONE OFF!’’ Jim shouted angrily from the bathroom, doubtlessly annoyed.

Sherlock cursed under his breath at the criminal, frowning as he accelerated the search. He finally found it in his coat, which had been thrown away near the exit door during their… discovery of each other’s body. When he took it out of his pocket, he saw it was, indeed, John who was calling. His fingers fumbled on the phone, pressing the ‘’Cancel call’’ button then he turned it off, putting it back gently into his pocket. He bit his lower lip, then glanced over his shoulder at the bathroom door - was Jim going to take a shower or was he simply hiding for an unknown reason? In any case, it meant Sherlock could either leave or have a great time alone in this hotel room. The latter didn’t seem so interesting, mostly with the taking into account that he was still nervous thinking back about what they had just shared… It had been wonderful, almost perfect he could say, but now as he thought about it, the rough part had been a bittersweet experience for him… He didn’t know if Jim had enjoyed it, but he sure hoped so because for the pain it had given him, he simply had to…And yet, it had made him come a second time. In retrospective, it wasn’t all so bad. Sherlock, pondering over this, gulped, his cheeks flushed with pink, then stood up. He’d have to find his pants, trousers, and so on if he wanted to make a run for it… Because as it had been shown, the criminal mastermind was changeable much and something in his guts told Sherlock it wouldn’t be long before the situation would take a turn for the worse. But as he bent to pick his pants up the ground, the bathroom door opened and Jim slid out, completely naked, bearing an apologetic expression on his face. Sherlock stopped midcourse and raised an eyebrow before straightening up.

‘’What?’’ said Sherlock coldly, attempting to mask his suspicion. He also felt as if attracted and couldn’t help but observe from head to toe Jim’s naked body – he was well-built, balanced, and handsome… if not even much desirable. The consulting detective had to clear his throat and swallow so as not his thoughts to be guessed easily. Although, with the grin Jim offered him, it was clear he had been too obvious…

‘’ I am sorry for running off like that and shouting at you. I just want to inform you that I’ll take a quick shower and be back to you in a few minutes, okay, sexy?’’ Jim told him sweetly as if comforting a scolded child, though his eyes sparkled with something that had been gone for some time… a darkness Sherlock could never reach but had already skimmed on from times to times. Never this deeply, though. Also, it seemed that even the other man couldn’t stop himself from admiring Sherlock’s nudity.

Jim raised an eyebrow and muttered something Sherlock couldn’t make out, but he didn’t care for he felt shy and vulnerable enough. He shifted, unease, on his feet. How he hated being naked when not alone! Suddenly, Jim walked toward him, arms open wide and embraced him tightly, yet warmly as if they were relatives who cared about and had missed each other. Sherlock, taken aback, first just frowned and was as stiff as a plank. Then, slowly he relaxed, enjoying the close contact of their skin, the heat coming off each other and the lingeringly unsaid desire, and hugged Moriarty back. He could feel Moriarty wriggling under his embrace just so they’d touch even more, though Sherlock didn’t say a thing about it. It wasn’t as if it were unpleasant… Releasing his grip, Moriarty took a step back then smiled at him, his eyes empty of emotions. Sherlock couldn’t put his finger on what it was exactly – it appeared as though Jim was soulless or so sad he only felt emptiness and nothing else. But, it was as mesmerising as it was freaky to him.

‘’It is okay. But I find no interest in staying here, waiting for you to come out of the shower, which we obviously both need…Mostly when I do not see what we could do after,’’ explained Sherlock all matter-of-factly. It was true because he didn’t see what was the purpose of staying there since they had come here to experiment, and with its being done, well he supposed they were done too… Plus, he needed a shower badly before he stumbled upon John, and since Jim was going to use the hotel room’s, he decided he’d best go home.

‘’Oh, silly me! I forgot to mention you could come shower with me…’’ Jim corrected himself, wiggling his eyebrows as a sexy invitation.

Sherlock, gulping as he felt excitation tingling all over his body and mostly in his genitals, shook his head and said a clear ‘’No’’. Because, no matter how enticing the idea was, Sherlock just wanted to rush back home, take a shower, and go to his mind palace to mull over all this and the changes he could feel it had occurred in him. Jim’s mouth twitched with rage and noticeable hatred as he leered. But he quickly masked it with a comprehensive look and innocent wide eyes.

‘’Of course… I understand – You want to get home to your pet. But tut tut, I know you’ll make the wise decision of not telling him about this, riiight~?’’ he cooed, moving his index before Sherlock’s face. ‘’And don’t worry, beautiful, I’ll call you…’’

Winking, Jim nonchalantly walked to the bathroom and as he glanced back at Sherlock, he forced a small smile before closing the door. Sherlock sighed and didn’t wait around – he got dressed and rushed out the room, closing the door behind him. He pressed several times the first floor button in the elevator and just glared at the two other persons who were in with him – he knew he stinked of sweat and other body liquids… but he didn’t care. No, he had only two things in mind: get home quickly and how to avoid Watson… The latter, he figured easily, would be the most difficult part.


Chapter Text

Yes, the sex had definitely been satisfying. Mostly due to the fact that he was the first to have ever laid a hand on Sherlock Holmes in such a way, who had been the first to have a shot at him and had ripped him of his virginity. Easy peasy. Although he knew how hard it had been on Sherlock to suddenly be done violence to – Jim was slightly ashamed of how he reacted. But you see, having Sherlock squirming under him, being this innocent and submissive just made his heart melt, which quickly became rage and denial – he simply couldn’t let what seemed to be a growing and unwanted affection toward the other man, so instead of giving in to it, he rebelled and chose to go rough with Sherlock during sex. Of course, he had noticed his little prey’s frown and confused face, but giving in to what was dark inside him was still better than admitting something he tried hard to keep far away… the possibility that maybe he was jealous whenever someone else than him was too close to the detective, meaning that somehow, somewhere in the depths of his twisted mind and burnt out heart, he felt more for the man than what it seemed – he had thought up until now that his interest in the man consisted only of obsession, equality and a tasty taste of animosity and rivalry. Maybe even of a certain sense of companionship… a wicked one, mind you. Dumb sentiment. But he had to own Sherlock, not the other way around.

They were lying on the bed, sheets up to their hips. Sherlock had turned to look at him, head resting on his arms. Jim was silent, eyes fixated on Sherlock’s unbelievably soft one – what was the arising tingling sensation in him? -, and just observed him with an innocent expression on his face. By the look of it, Sherlock was remembering their sex time, and so was he… But the beauty of the scene was quickly broken as his companion said that next time, it would be his turn to be on top. Jim couldn’t help but smirk and snicker, his eyes gleaming with genuine amusement and happiness. As soon as he noticed Sherlock scooting closer, he stopped, narrowed his eyes and glared at him. Oh no! Oh, oh no~! If the other one thought playing it cute was going to get him some points, he was wrong! It was hard enough playing good Jim – though how fun to see Sherlock falling into his trap -, but now it was even worse – it seemed he couldn’t contain his anger at what he was constantly feeling in his presence since… a while. It felt as though it was trying to overwhelm him, and he certainly wouldn’t let that happen without a fight. Not ever. No one could beat Jim Moriarty – certainly not outwit nor drown him in emotions! And mostly not stupid Sherlock-I-always-need-an-annoying-pet-with-me-because-I-care-so-so-much-about-him-and-I-even-dare-to-think-it’s-a-secret. So, he clenched his teeth with rage and brusquely got out of bed. He was done with this! For now. Stupid Sherlock and his adorable face! Fuck their bond no one else could ever understand. And mostly fuck this fuck scene that just played with his mind and heart even more, turning it into a mess of anxiety and unwanted feelings. He had to be strong – he had to fight it off and regain his composure. He heard Sherlock gasp at him but he didn’t care nor turn to him. Instead, he gathered his clothes in a terribly bad mood, then ran into the bathroom and slammed the door shut. He needed privacy and peace and quiet for a short time so he could cool down and put his mask back on that Sherlock had managed – how even did he do that?! – to make crumble for a few minutes… He just hoped Sherlock wouldn’t try and knock on that stupid door or he’d have to snap at him. Useless to say that it wouldn’t help his plan at all – not as if his sudden outburst or the rough way he had treated him during their intercourse were giving him any credit at the moment -, but it might improve his mood.

An irritating sound began playing behind the door, across the rented room. Jim rolled his eyes and sighed loudly, his eyes now squeezed shut as he shouted angrily – obviously annoyed - : ‘’TURN YOUR FUCKING PHONE OFF!!!’’ John, again, doubtlessly. Jim was getting really fed up with the yapping bastard… Couldn’t he get the warning and the message that not Sherlock NOR Jim had time for him right now? Stupidly annoying barking dog. If only he could die… Or move far away, cutting any contact with Sherlock.

Jim passed a hand over his face. He had to think this through… No, wait, he evidently wasn’t advancing in his scheme with this sucky attitude. He sighed again – he felt so grumpy he could either tell Sebastian to go and shoot someone for him, or lock himself in the bathroom, pour himself a nice hot bath and lie in it, gritting his teeth and scowling at the wall until his rage past, but none of those could help him reinforce Sherlock’s affections for him… If only he could forget or destroy the blossoming infuriating thoughts and emotions he ‘’felt’’. Oh well! Time to get back in the game and score some points before it’s too late! For Sherlock was too good of a toy to lose because of a few pointless things, right? Of course! Not until he was truly done with him and had had his vengeance… crushing him under sentiment… Watch him dance and fall to the floor in one last breath and heartbreak! The only one he’d ever have. So, Jim chuckled and tried his best to appear calm as he slid out of the bathroom. He put all of his worst intentions into his apologetic expression – the best one yet! Inside, he was pretty proud of himself – he still could pull stuff like that on a whim!

The view he had was simply exquisite: Sherlock’s ass all available and a bit stretched as he bent over to pick up his pants, it seemed. It was perfect! Jim just smirked, eyes sparkling as he found his desire surprisingly – maybe not so much – renewed. Oh how he could fuck that ass hard against the wall, thrusting into it violently, soothing his rage as he held Sherlock’s hips tight whilst he moaned and begged for more. But the best part was yet to come: the ex-virgin was observing him from head to toe! Jim reckoned his nudity and great-looking physique was simply too appealing to Sherlock – oh, and there he even tried to conceal his dirty and admiring thoughts by his clearing his throat and swallowing. Wasn’t he adorable? If there was one thing he clearly wasn’t was being subtle… Jim didn’t even try to suppress his grin. It was too funny to see that great man at loss when it came to sexual relationships and Jim… Oh yes, because Jim had begun to see it: how Sherlock was looking at him, replying, how he seemed to try and please him down to the last detail.

Jim knew he had to answer Sherlock’s cold question, and attempted to use his sweetest voice, like a poisonous apple coated in caramel, as he told him: ‘’I am sorry for running off like that and shouting at you. I just want to inform you that I’ll take a quick shower and be back to you in a few minutes, okay, sexy?’’ Yes, that was perfect! Apologies usually worked with ordinary people… And even though he knew Sherlock was no such thing as ordinary, he was still slowly falling for him, and people who did so were always so sensitive towards apologies and nicknames because oh, the stupid fools, they wanted to believe it so badly. If he hadn’t been so proud of himself in that right moment, he’d have thought to control his stare better because his eyes sparkled with a deep darkness only Jim could manage… He didn’t realize the maddening wrath that still gnawed at his heart was trying to make itself known through any means possible. Fortunately for him, it didn’t seem to disgust Sherlock… his darkness. Well, one had to admit that Sherlock himself skimmed over darkness every day, but the attraction towards tasting it was so great he probably just couldn’t keep away from Jim Moriarty and help himself from falling… And, talking of falling, Jim’s eyes fell on Sherlock’s bare good-enough-looking biceps, then on his chest which still gleamed with sweat from their sexy playtime, on his beautiful package and last, on his well-built gracious legs he’d love to have around his waist another time… Jim raised an eyebrow and muttered how much of a an attractive problem Sherlock was, which he hoped Sherlock didn’t hear – just observing the man like this was making him create more saliva… he had to swallow twice so as not to drool, which would clearly be embarrassing and diminishing. Without warning, Jim walked to Sherlock, arms open wide and embraced him tightly with all his heart – or so he wanted to make Sherlock believe. To his pleasure, the detective, at first frigid, began to relax and left himself into the care Jim’s hands as he hugged him back, surprisingly… Okay, maybe not so much. At least for the criminal who had anticipated as much after his apologies, the good time they had spent and, most of all, Sherlock’s obvious slide down the slippery slope of love… Jim would burst with pride if he weren’t trying so hard to not grit his teeth and lash out at Sherlock and torture him with any means at his disposal. Instead, he just buried his face in the other man’s crook of the neck and wriggled under the embrace so as to convey his shy interest and sincere – fake – worries at Sherlock’s having been troubled by his reactions. Hmmmm… the detective sure was warm and apparently reassuring when one hugged him… That was such a discovery! Plus, the feeling of their naked bodies and dicks brushing against each other was somewhere between comfortable and ecstatic. After this was done, Jim took a step back and smiled at Sherlock. No, he surely wasn’t falling for this man. At all. Why would he, anyways? It’s not as if he had ever truly loved something or someone… No, they were just toys for him to break, to crush, to destroy and to watch going down in flames. Nothing nor no one was anything else than that. No, not even his parents. Everyone had at some point turned their backs on him, rejected him, and laughed at him because they were too stupid to understand his genius, his difference. People did nothing more than die for nothing was worth much more than ashes in this world. He felt so empty inside. He was empty of anything good. Everything was dark, his legs dangling above a never-ending pitch black void of nothingness. Nothing was really worth his time. All his life he had been looking for distraction… And Sherlock had been his best. But now even he was getting on his nerves… It was so annoying. To realise your best toy had already come close to its end. He’d have to burn his heart out sooner than he thought. Because there was no way Jim’s heart was ever going to beat faster for Sherlock. There was no way he could experience something else than obsession, violent anger, desire to destroy, and other emotions as sweet as those… Because he hated everything and everyone. Hated it all to the core. For years he had hated being the only one in the world of his intellectual level… And now the toy he had had most of his hopes in was beginning to get dusty, uninteresting… boring and infuriating as he noticed he wasn’t enjoying this game so much anymore.

Jim didn’t simply have darkness in his heart… he was darkness.

He was insane.

And he was certain that it showed through his empty eyes for he was aware that sometimes, he smiled but not with his eyes… Sherlock had probably picked this up. But who cared, right? They were too far gone, already. Infecting each other with the game they played and their poisonous need for each other. He’d make it stop. Stop Sherlock’s ticking clock. He’d crush him, reduce him to pieces before he threw the final blow. He’d make him pay.

‘’It is okay. But I find no interest in staying here, waiting for you to come out of the shower, which we obviously both need…Mostly when I do not see what we could do after,’’ Sherlock told him all matter-of-factly.

That annoying dickhead, thinking he can just walk out like that and suddenly maneuver the whole boat. If he thought he could lead it all, he’d soon be proven wrong, Jim swore it to himself… He’d be begging him in the end and Jim wouldn’t listen. No, he would not…

‘’Oh, silly me! I forgot to mention you could come and shower with me…’’ Jim corrected himself, wiggling his eyebrows as a sexy invitation. He wouldn’t let that idiot escape like this. At least not without any appropriate punishment, of course… It would come later.

When Sherlock dared reply a cold ‘’no’’, Jim’s mouth twitched with rage and noticeable hatred as he leered. But he quickly masked it behind a comprehensive look and innocent wide eyes. He. Mustn’t. Lose. Control.

His eyes then fell onto the coat’s bulge in its pocket – Sherlock’s cell phone, obviously. His eyes turned a menacing black as he glared at it for a second before staring back at Sherlock kindly and compassionately. He was SooOOooo~ changeable, wasn’t he? One of his greatest asset and only weakness at the same time. It wasn’t so bad… Some people were just lame whilst he was at the top of human intelligence. And none, mostly not Sherlock, would ever succeed in making him fall from it…

‘’Of course… I understand – You want to get home to your pet. But tut tut, I know you’ll make the wise decision of not telling him about this, riiight~?’’ he cooed, moving his index before Sherlock’s face. ‘’And don’t worry, beautiful, I’ll call you…’’

Winking, Jim nonchalantly walked to the bathroom and, as he glanced back at Sherlock, forced a small smile before closing the door. He waited, unmoving in the centre of the room, and heard the detective sigh and the door close. So the bastard really had preferred to leave… Fine, then. Jim sure hoped Sherlock would appreciate his time with his pet before he snatched it from him and got rid of it for good. Because, let’s admit it, that John was getting way too into their business and Jim could clearly do without him. He wouldn’t let such a stupid thing ruin his plan for Sherlock… He might as well use it instead for the destruction of the detective. Yes, slowly, but surely… and above all: painfully.

It was time he took real good care of things.

The game had gone up a notch.

Get ready, Sherlock, for Jim Moriarty was going to go full charge and you’d regret it. None played Jim; Jim played people.

Chapter Text

John let out a heavily exasperated sigh and shook his head firmly, his eyes squeezed shut. How could Sherlock had rushed off without him to his rival and leave him searching for him?! Now the sun was setting and John, standing 15 streets away from his apartment, was sourly accepting the fact that Sherlock was nowhere to be found and that he’d have to come home empty-handed. He had walked (or limped with his cane, if you prefer) hours only to feel vanquished. He was sad, beaten and highly annoyed (his shoulders drooped as he admitted defeat). He had called him thrice! THRICE! And the bastard had dared turn his call down… Well, if that arsehole didn’t intend on being found, and who obviously didn’t care much if Watson had a heart attack out of worrying and stressing over the man’s whereabouts, John would just go home and have a hot tea instead of wasting all of his evening as well. Plus, he hadn’t eaten and it was getting late… About dinner time.

He spun on his heel, then began limping furiously towards where he had come from. All this time and walking wasted… for nothing! He was boiling inside with rage. Sherlock would hear about this! The minute Sherlock would walk in John would snap at him – out of heartfelt concern and genuine anger. As he crossed a few streets, the ball of concern was still weighing heavy on his chest. He breathed deeply, looking glum as he kept on repeating the scene in his head and his thoughts and fears of what could and would – obviously - happen to Sherlock... Just another corner now and… There he was! He fumbled for his keys, unlocked the door and stepped into the hall. He slowly turned round and closed the door, then painfully made his way up the stairs to the living room. He suddenly stiffened, his ears pricking up at the faint but deep sound of the shower running. John hurried up the stairs the fastest he could and stared, gaping, at the closed wooden door in front of him – the bastard had come back home and hadn’t even sent him an SMS to inform him or anything. Talk about nerve! It was so cheeky it was despicable… He let out a sound of irritation and incredulity, shook his head as if he couldn’t believe it, then knocked hard on the door multiple times, shouting his flatmate’s name – if he didn’t hear that, the man was as deaf as a post because surely he’d hear about it from Mrs.Hudson in a few minutes. And if it weren’t then, it would doubtlessly be on the day after.

Nevertheless, it seemed that, indeed, Sherlock was deaf, after all! John stuck his ear to the door, listening carefully for any sign of the other man having heard him and walking to meet him, but no other sound than the water running came to his ear. Disappointed and hurt, John clenched his fists in irritation and gritted his teeth bitterly. He couldn’t help growling lowly as he made his way to the kitchen, hoping to find something to cool down his obviously dark mood. That bastard… John was certain Sherlock had heard his shouting – none in the perimeter of 221 could claim otherwise with the level of tone he had used, he had made sure of that -, but had preferred to act as though it had fallen in deaf ears and had kept on doing his body cleansing. Watson opened a cupboard and proceeded to grab one cup and boil the water. It took him a while to choose which tea he wanted – it finally came down to the Earl Gray.

Upon finishing pouring himself a cuppa, he went to sit on the couch, sipping his tea. It was almost as if he weren’t drinking it with how tightly he was pressing his lips together, pissed off at Sherlock’s behaviour and the fact he was worried like crazy. He swore that when he was going to get out of the bathroom, he’d get to know what John thought about all this! The detective seemed to be well on his own seeing how he had come back home to take a shower… Sudden anxiety gripped at his heart – he hadn’t seen him yet, and maybe he was bloodied, or anything… No, that couldn’t be good, could it? No matter how mad at the bloke he was, he was still his best friend and that implied he cared. Whoever hurt Sherlock in any way – which he hadn’t deserved, of course – would receive John’s wrath in return.

After a quarter or so, the water stopped running and the door creaked open, letting Sherlock come out of the bathroom. John stood up angrily, scowling and ready to lash out at the man, but froze, eyes wide opened as they fell onto… a certain chest and another body part of the detective, with droplets of water trickling down his skin. The damn bastard was naked!

‘’Oh…I…erm… Hi, John,’’ he said, an apologetic and obviously awkward smile on his face. It seemed he felt unease… Good, because John himself wasn’t far from it either! The ex-soldier clenched his fists and looked up at Sherlock, his lips pursed in shyness – was he even blushing? He hoped not…! -, noticing his wet dark hair plastered to his forehead and neck.

‘’I’m going to go and dress myself,’’ said the detective without an ounce of shame in his voice. John’s brow furrowed; had Sherlock faked this impromptu meeting just to trick him into believing he was innocent of not having heard him earlier and that nothing wrong had happened when he was on his own or was it simply true? John couldn’t tell, and sincerely, right now, he couldn’t care less – of course, he’d try to learn the answer later, that is… He looked away just in time as Sherlock turned and walked to the bathroom. Phew! At least he had caught only a slight bit of Sherlock’s ass in his view… and not at all… He had escaped the worst. No, but imagine?! He didn’t want to see that – that image would be glued to his mind forever. Because you know… If you still care… John isn’t gay.

What a relief it was when he heard the door close! He went back to sit on the couch, pondering over what had happened whilst he wasn’t with him that day and stressing. Just he wait… Just he wait until he got out of the bathroom again…

They’d have the talk.