It won't work
Switch - James Moriarty/Sherlock Holmes
Description: Sherlock was just drinking tea.
What could be better than a peaceful, serene evening in the heart of London? In his tiny apartment, warm as a nest, Sherlock sips milky tea, losing himself in the lazy peace. This genius detective is eternally captivated by his passion for mysteries; without it, he would wither, like a cactus forgotten in the shade, yearning for rain. However, even mystery hunters sometimes need a break to shake out the cobwebs of unnecessary shadows and aim their minds, like an arrow, at their target. Usually, Sherlock uses nicotine patches, but if he were to use them excessively, the room would drown in an ocean of crumpled wrappers. Few know: Holmes finds peace not only in these patches and in tea. But… he has a secret anchor of calm. And its name is…
The door swung open with a soft creak.
- James
- Hello~
The villainous consultant seemed charmingly harmless, like a kitten after a nap: his black curls tousled as if after a storm, his eyes blinking sleepily, and his pajamas, with their designs of tiny knives and skulls, rumpled, as if he'd been playing pranks.
- Something urgent?
- Only the highest-class people are allowed to see Sherlock Holmes? Ha, dear, such tricks don't work on me
- I learned that… when I moved you upstairs
- You're suspiciously calm. Has 'Mr. London' really taken a break? - James chuckled, his eyes sparkling.
- And 'Mr. Sex' decided to share it with me?
Moriarty grinned slyly - the nickname he'd pinned on himself, like a crown, sounded sweeter than any caramel from the lips of the curly-haired genius.
- Wow, bravo, I bow to you
After a pause, Sherlock blurted out:
- Why 'London'?
- After all, no one knows the capital of Foggy Albion better than you, like the back of their hand
A moment later, James crept up behind Sherlock and wrapped his arms around him, binding him like a spider's web.
- Hey, what's with all this?
- Hugs, as you can see
- You're not the kind of person who likes to be touched
- And you never let that side of me blossom
- We work together all the time
- I'm biding my time. Do you think I'll come at you with kisses every five minutes like a puppy?
Sherlock snorted sarcastically.
But you're not just another ordinary person, are you?
- Me? Ordinary? Ha!
- Remember that meeting on the roof?
Moriarty pressed his cheek against Holmes's, warming him.
- How could I not remember? I said there was no code. It's still a mystery – why did you think I was tapping out a code?
- What else does your finger tapping mean, like a metronome of fate?
- You know, they can be used to beat out melodies, not codes. You knew that, but your mind wandered off into the depths. Why?
Sherlock could barely contain his laughter, sparks dancing in his eyes.
- What's so funny?
- Nothing… pfft, just admiring how you seethe like a volcano
The consultant made a face of anger.
- You're such a rascal! I'll show you a real volcano now! Take that!
Sherlock retreated.
- James, don't be mad!
A playful scuffle between the geniuses ensued: pillows flew like a snow flurry, defense followed by attack. This lasted for ten minutes, until Sherlock grazed James's ribs. James recoiled with a yelp, covering his side. The detective was alarmed.
- Does it hurt?
James hesitated, knowing the secret, but remained silent.
- N-no, it's okay. Don't worry about it
Suddenly, Sherlock realized.
- Ah, I see
Moriarty froze, staring wide-eyed, praying his secret hadn't been revealed. No one knew: the great villain trembled from tickling like a leaf in the wind.
- Are you ticklish?
The detective narrowed his eyes, grinning triumphantly.
...
What can I say? "Yes"—and wait for the artillery. "No" - the same thing.
James glanced around the room, searching for salvation.
- Don't mumble, I can see it in your eyes - you're afraid
- My only flaw is my inconstancy, and that's it!
- Really? Do you believe it?
Sherlock approached, peering into his night-black eyes.
- Fear paralyzes. You remain silent, knowing that a yes or no answer leads to one thing - torture. You don't want to admit it, lest your weakness surface and your reputation be ruined
James's jaw dropped.
- I…
- Your face is an open book to me. Thoughts, emotions - all in plain sight. You know
Sherlock turned to the door, but:
- Then test it
- What?
- Your theory. It's interesting, isn't it?
A plan, as cunning as a maze, formed in the detective's mind. A smile flashed, and:
- Maybe later. I'll go outside
Sherlock got dressed. James breathed a sigh of relief—it was gone. Holmes was unaware of his vulnerability.
But suddenly—a grip on his waist, iron as a trap. James yelped.
- Aha, I got you!
- No! Let go!
He struggled, but to no avail.
- Did you think I'd let you go so easily?
Sherlock's fingers darted to his sides, whirling. Moriarty collapsed to the floor, laughing and writhing like a snake.
- HA-HA-HA! HA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA! ENOOOOUGH!
- No way, pay for cheating with tickling
- NO-O-O-O-O! STA-HA-HA-HA-HA-HA!
Sherlock pressed into James's ribs. James squealed like a flute.
- STA-HA-HA-HA! A-A-A-HA-HA-HA!!
- You started this, now you'll have to clean up
James, quicker, nudged Sherlock from behind. He giggled and let go—a mistake! Moriarty pushed him onto the couch, pressing into his stomach. Sherlock screamed, writhing.
- I'll tickle you, I'll tickle you~
His mocking voice burned, reddening his cheeks.
- NO-O-O-O-O! HE-HE-HE-HE!!
- Sherley, darling, are you giving in too? I thought you didn't care. Oh, how unlucky you are
Sherlock burst into laughter, James beamed with triumph.
- You won't escape~
Suddenly, a rope flashed in the villain's hands - to tie him up, to torture him! But Sherlock turned him over, pinned him down, and zipped his wrists together. James blinked - it was too late, the knots were as tight as shackles. He tugged - to no avail. Sherlock advanced, his fingers dancing in the air like spiders.
James retreated, embarrassed, unaccustomed to defeat. The window was a dead end. The enemy was three steps away, his gaze frightened.
- What happened, Moriarty?
- Stay away!
- I'm warning you!
- Step
- You'll pay!
Step.
- I'll burn you!
Sherlock dug into the pits, his fingers whirling. James yelped and collapsed to the floor. The detective straddled his hands, tormenting him mercilessly.
- GO-HO-HO-HO! HA-HA-HA! NAHAHAHAHHA! PHA-HA-HA!!
Not listening. Suddenly an idea: Sherlock froze, taking a sip.
- James
- W-what?
- Hungry?
- No, huh?
- Do you like raspberries?
- Oh no, don't you d-!!!!
The raspberry lashed out right at his neck. James kicked his legs, roaring, his throat straining. It's useless to resist with his hands in bonds.
- You're not helping yourself at all
- GE-HE-HE-HE-HE-HET OU-HU-HU-HU-HUT!!
- Apologize, and I'll leave you alone
- YOU'RE A BA-HA-HA-HAS-TA-HA-HARD! NE-HE-HE-VER!!
- Okay, your choice
Sherlock lifted his pajama shirt and bit into his ribs. James bucked, tears streaming down his face. Every millimeter was torture, like the Inquisition. Moriarty squealed, thrashing helplessly.
- OKA-HA-HA-HA-HAY! OKE-HE-HE-Y! I'M-SO-HORRY!!
Sherlock let go, James wheezed.
- Don't die, I need you
- Because you can't survive without me?
Silence.
- I take that as a yes
…
- Will you untie him?
Sherlock weighed the risks and untied him carefully. Expected an attack. But James simply hugged him - Sherlock was dumbfounded.
- What's wrong?
- Thank you
Moriarty pulled away, kissing his neck. The vacuum, the tickling - Sherlock could barely stand it, blushing.
- What are you doing?
- Hold on, my little tickler
- Don't move, it'll come out crooked
A few minutes later
- It's done
He handed her a mirror. Sherlock gasped: the hickey was like a scarlet bouquet.
- Did you give it a hickey?
- Beautiful, like roses in a garden
Sherlock blushed, and James embraced his lover in a warm wave.