Just So

@tattsyrup

Jim Moriarty... Hi! (OOC: All death threats should NOT be taken seriously - NSFW)

5,148 posts

Jim blinked, nodded, and returned his attention to the TV. His smirk had faded slowly over the course of John’s answer. Jim didn’t want to think about why this might be. “Good to know," he said, removing his arm from around John’s shoulders under the pretence that he had to scratch the back of his head. He was pleased, of course, that John seemed to think back on his single night with Sherlock as a disappointment, but that didn’t seem to affect the doctor’s decision to reunite with the pompous bastard. It puzzled Jim. “So why are you getting back in touch, if he was so shit?" It had to be asked.

johnwatsonblogger

It was a fair line of questioning. If they had a normal relationship, not this Thing, John would even call it ‘good communication’. They didn’t, though, and all the doctor really wanted to do was pretend his Jim and Sherlock could exist on completely different wavelengths. “He was my best friend, you know" He said, lips still thin to show his displeasure at the subject. “Just because we don’t…work together that way doesn’t ruin everything else."

"Best friends," he scoffed. "What are you, children?" He pushed himself to his feet with the intention of getting himself something to eat, but his appetite had waned since the start of the 'chat'. Turning to John, he said, "Look, if you derive some sort of peculiar pleasure from being 'best friends' with this lunatic, then be my guest." He laughed with dead eyes. "But don't expect me to enjoy it." With a sarcastically apologetic shrug, Jim followed his dying hunger into the kitchen.

Jim laughed and shook John’s shoulder slightly to remind him that it wasn’t exactly scandalous. “Come on," he said, nudging John’s chin with a knuckle. “You can be honest. I won’t mind." He stretched out his legs and met John’s glare with a curious yet mischievous grin. It was easier to wind other people up than to let the problems build up inside.

johnwatsonblogger

John’s cheeks heated up a bit. He’d really rather not think about his one night with Sherlock much, but if Jim was going to ask, then fine. “We screwed once, and I’m guessing he didn’t think it was very good, since he had once of his epiphanies and went bounding off after a case as soon as we were finished" He said, short as he could. One rushed fuck, and everything had fallen to pieces. “Then, you know, he went to fucking America to get away from me, so no. No, I wouldn’t say he was better in bed than you."

At this point, he realized he’d gotten off the topic of sex and into character - that was a dirty tract to go, Jim had no character to speak of, and John still liked him plenty. He pressed his lips into a thin line, and decided to just shut up.

Jim blinked, nodded, and returned his attention to the TV. His smirk had faded slowly over the course of John's answer. Jim didn't want to think about why this might be. "Good to know," he said, removing his arm from around John's shoulders under the pretence that he had to scratch the back of his head. He was pleased, of course, that John seemed to think back on his single night with Sherlock as a disappointment, but that didn't seem to affect the doctor's decision to reunite with the pompous bastard. It puzzled Jim. "So why are you getting back in touch, if he was so shit?" It had to be asked.

"Was he better in bed than me?"

It had to be asked. Jim couldn’t help the smirk that twitched at his face as he voiced the question but he really did want to know. Having found a place of security in realising that it was the attention he sought, not companionship, he felt more at ease to think about his John and the detective. It still wasn’t a pleasant subject to linger on, but nothing to do with the younger Holmes brat ever was.

johnwatsonblogger

John’s posture straightened instantly, scowl invading his face not far behind. “Why the hell are you asking that?" He demanded, tea held tightly in his hand as an anchor. Why would Jim bring this up now, unless he was trying to start up trouble between the two of them, the bastard.

Jim laughed and shook John's shoulder slightly to remind him that it wasn't exactly scandalous. "Come on," he said, nudging John's chin with a knuckle. "You can be honest. I won't mind." He stretched out his legs and met John's glare with a curious yet mischievous grin. It was easier to wind other people up than to let the problems build up inside.

Jim couldn’t help but laugh at that. It sputtered from his mouth, ugly and undignified, but genuine. He glanced at John. “If you say so," he responded. With a sensation akin to guilt, he sidled closer and put a wary arm around the doctor’s shoulders. The other hand snaked towards John’s mug and gently eased it from his grip. The criminal stole a sip and kissed the man on the lips. He wondered how soon it would be before Sherlock would be doing the same thing.

johnwatsonblogger

John’s smile grew at the laughter, eyes still glued to the television. There. That was better. Laughter was what kept them running, really. He glanced over when Jim took the mug off him, and even leaned into the arm around his shoulders. He was still on edge, definitely, but not on eggshells anymore. “No, it’s good. I can be fairly clever for an ordinary person. We meet in the middle" He tipped his head, examining Jim’s face, before leaning in to take another peck.

Jim wanted to be satisfied with that, and so he forced a grin to his face at John’s kiss. Being dependant on other people wasn’t how Moriarty saw himself. He certainly wasn’t about to admit that he’d changed so drastically since the days when he had no contacts and survived on his wits alone. Yet here he was, jealous that his latest - what? Friend? Pet? - might leave him. Perhaps it was merely the attention from John that Jim craved, and without it the criminal suspected he might starve. There. That made more sense. He shifted to get more comfortable and was relieved to feel his heart-rate lower.

johnwatsonblogger

That was better. That was much better. Satisfied that their little tiff was over, John relaxed into Jim’s shoulder. He only glanced from the television to take their now-shared mug of tea back for another sip, pleased the temperature went down to a comfortable level. The program Jim had switched on was boring, but John kept his mind to it. He didn’t want to let his brain wandering off to think about ‘what-if’s or ‘would-it-be-better’s right now.

"Was he better in bed than me?"

It had to be asked. Jim couldn't help the smirk that twitched at his face as he voiced the question but he really did want to know. Having found a place of security in realising that it was the attention he sought, not companionship, he felt more at ease to think about his John and the detective. It still wasn't a pleasant subject to linger on, but nothing to do with the younger Holmes brat ever was.

Jim couldn’t help but laugh at that. It sputtered from his mouth, ugly and undignified, but genuine. He glanced at John. “If you say so," he responded. With a sensation akin to guilt, he sidled closer and put a wary arm around the doctor’s shoulders. The other hand snaked towards John’s mug and gently eased it from his grip. The criminal stole a sip and kissed the man on the lips. He wondered how soon it would be before Sherlock would be doing the same thing.

johnwatsonblogger

John’s smile grew at the laughter, eyes still glued to the television. There. That was better. Laughter was what kept them running, really. He glanced over when Jim took the mug off him, and even leaned into the arm around his shoulders. He was still on edge, definitely, but not on eggshells anymore. “No, it’s good. I can be fairly clever for an ordinary person. We meet in the middle" He tipped his head, examining Jim’s face, before leaning in to take another peck.

Jim wanted to be satisfied with that, and so he forced a grin to his face at John's kiss. Being dependant on other people wasn't how Moriarty saw himself. He certainly wasn't about to admit that he'd changed so drastically since the days when he had no contacts and survived on his wits alone. Yet here he was, jealous that his latest - what? Friend? Pet? - might leave him. Perhaps it was merely the attention from John that Jim craved, and without it the criminal suspected he might starve. There. That made more sense. He shifted to get more comfortable and was relieved to feel his heart-rate lower.

johnwatsonblogger

John had hoped for something a bit more than that, but he didn’t blame Jim for being distant. He shifted in his seat, and looked down at his mug of tea, considering his options. None of them were very good, all of them sounded awkward. “Good, then. Good" He murmured, before taking a large gulp of too hot tea. “I-…I’m glad you stayed."

"I’m not the one who was about to leave," Jim clarified, still watching the TV screen with apparent yet fake interest. He felt his neck and jaw tighten of their own accord and for a moment he thought something dreadful was about to happen. When the muscles eventually relaxed and the heat behind his eyes ebbed, the criminal relaxed once again. He wasn’t a slave to these pitiful, ordinary emotions.

johnwatsonblogger

John’s fingers tightened around the mug, and he was suddenly craving something much stronger than tea. He’d thought telling Jim outright about Sherlock’s apparent reappearance was the best course of action, but apparently not. Maybe it was still better than Jim learning later on, John just couldn’t know. “You’re…fairly stupid for a genius" He finally said with a tight smile.

Jim couldn't help but laugh at that. It sputtered from his mouth, ugly and undignified, but genuine. He glanced at John. "If you say so," he responded. With a sensation akin to guilt, he sidled closer and put a wary arm around the doctor's shoulders. The other hand snaked towards John's mug and gently eased it from his grip. The criminal stole a sip and kissed the man on the lips. He wondered how soon it would be before Sherlock would be doing the same thing.

johnwatsonblogger

John had hoped for something a bit more than that, but he didn’t blame Jim for being distant. He shifted in his seat, and looked down at his mug of tea, considering his options. None of them were very good, all of them sounded awkward. “Good, then. Good" He murmured, before taking a large gulp of too hot tea. “I-…I’m glad you stayed."

"I'm not the one who was about to leave," Jim clarified, still watching the TV screen with apparent yet fake interest. He felt his neck and jaw tighten of their own accord and for a moment he thought something dreadful was about to happen. When the muscles eventually relaxed and the heat behind his eyes ebbed, the criminal relaxed once again. He wasn't a slave to these pitiful, ordinary emotions.

Back at the flat, Jim got comfortable by changing into something less formal than his work clothes and falling heavily onto the low sofa. The tension in the centre of his chest was caused by the tight hold he had on his current emotions - disappointment, relief and intense jealousy. John was clearly still glued to Sherlock. No matter what that man did, the doctor always seemed to forgive and forget. Sooner or later the attraction of the Virgin would become too much. Jim smirked miserably to himself as the TV played. Who would love a criminal when a hero was available?

johnwatsonblogger

John busied himself in the kitchen, making tea for the both of them, while Jim went off and changed. Once the mugs were ready, and he could hear the telly on in the sitting room, he padded carefully out. It felt like he was treading on eggshells. He offered a weak smile as he offered the mug he’d made for Jim over, before taking a seat against the armrest Jim’s feet didn’t quite reach. “Anything good happen today?" He tried, hoping to bring back at least some of the good mood Jim had before he’d decided to walk out.

Jim shifted a bit to allow John some space. "Yes," he replied plainly. He felt that if he didn't restrict the number of words he used, then he'd end up saying something he would truly regret. It would be best to wait and see how things played out rather than try to skip ahead and win the game prematurely, it seemed. John certainly was an optimist, though - thinking he could juggle the friendship of a smug sociopath and the romantic involvement with a mass murderer.

If Jim could have dropped all pretence and acts, that would have been the moment. He let out an exasperated sigh and stepped closer. “But why do you need to involve yourself with the detective at all?" he asked, truly bewildered. “You know - at least, I hope you do - how untidy things would get if you became friendly with that man again. You know the risks, and yet he is somehow worth it?" Jim shook his head and sighed again, covering his eyes briefly. “Forget it. I’m sorry, come on." The apology was rushed and insincere but his willingness to pretend none of this had taken place - for now - was honest. He turned to go back to the flat.

johnwatsonblogger

John’s shoulders slumped. He’d gotten what he wanted, he supposed. He wanted Jim, but…the brunette certainly didn’t sound happy about it. John straightened his back and stepped after Jim. He realized how Sherlock could ruin everything again. It would be a delicate, careful line he’d have to walk. He’d probably even have to choose between the two in the end. He just couldn’t find it in him to turn Sherlock away, though.

Back at the flat, Jim got comfortable by changing into something less formal than his work clothes and falling heavily onto the low sofa. The tension in the centre of his chest was caused by the tight hold he had on his current emotions - disappointment, relief and intense jealousy. John was clearly still glued to Sherlock. No matter what that man did, the doctor always seemed to forgive and forget. Sooner or later the attraction of the Virgin would become too much. Jim smirked miserably to himself as the TV played. Who would love a criminal when a hero was available?

Jim hesitated. “Oh," he began, then, “Oh! I see. Of course, no, I get it now." He laughed and shook his head at his feet, as if it were suddenly all so silly. When he looked back up at John, he said, “I’ll always be available for a shag, don’t worry. You have my number." He gestured to John’s pocket, where he guessed the man’s mobile might be. “Go back to your friend, John. It’s alright." As Jim spewed his nonsense, he couldn’t help but feel like his barriers weren’t quite as strong this time. With Sebastian, the relationship had always been uneasy, which made it easier to forget. But John - despite being so painfully ordinary - was someone Jim actually got along well with. This was going to be hard to leave behind.

johnwatsonblogger

"I don’t-!" John drew back at the accusation, jaw setting. For everything they’d been through - from the strange start, the shared loneliness, the nights and days and boring times and risks taken - and Jim was reducing it down to ‘shagging’. Christ, what a prick. “Shut the hell up, Jim. Just shut up, right now. Pull your head out your arse and actually listen before I punch you" He said, voice tight and filled with a forced, practiced calm. “If you’d like to leave now, then fine. Fine, I can’t make you stay - I get that. If you don’t, and this is all bullshit to try to keep from getting…hurt, or…or trying to punish me, or a test, drop it. I’m trying to tell you that I want you to stay with me,"

If Jim could have dropped all pretence and acts, that would have been the moment. He let out an exasperated sigh and stepped closer. "But why do you need to involve yourself with the detective at all?" he asked, truly bewildered. "You know - at least, I hope you do - how untidy things would get if you became friendly with that man again. You know the risks, and yet he is somehow worth it?" Jim shook his head and sighed again, covering his eyes briefly. "Forget it. I'm sorry, come on." The apology was rushed and insincere but his willingness to pretend none of this had taken place - for now - was honest. He turned to go back to the flat.

Jim shifted his position and continued to meet John’s gaze coolly. “Everything is easy, John, when you don’t dwell on anything. Sherlock’s absence would have been easy if you hadn’t tortured yourself with the memories. Sebastian’s leaving was easy because I didn’t wallow in it." He shrugged and smiled sweetly, eyes still narrow. “Why would you trading in the criminal for the hero be any different?"

johnwatsonblogger

John waited a moment, before murmuring out a few choice swear words to blow of steam. It didn’t work much, he was still angry. Very, very angry. On a certain level, he understood what was happening. Jim was detaching himself from the situation, and as a survival mechanism, it worked well. Unfortunately, he’d detached too quickly, and fucked everything up. John chewed his tongue, trying to stop himself from pulling his end-all card, but it was what he had left. “I l-" He paused, taking a deep breath. No. He couldn’t say it. "Sherlock, if we…he would just be a friend. I wouldn’t risk him twice" He forced his shoulders back. “I’m not trying to break us - our Thing - up."

Jim hesitated. "Oh," he began, then, "Oh! I see. Of course, no, I get it now." He laughed and shook his head at his feet, as if it were suddenly all so silly. When he looked back up at John, he said, "I'll always be available for a shag, don't worry. You have my number." He gestured to John's pocket, where he guessed the man's mobile might be. "Go back to your friend, John. It's alright." As Jim spewed his nonsense, he couldn't help but feel like his barriers weren't quite as strong this time. With Sebastian, the relationship had always been uneasy, which made it easier to forget. But John - despite being so painfully ordinary - was someone Jim actually got along well with. This was going to be hard to leave behind.

Jim stopped walking but didn’t turn around. He was tired. Just tired. Everyone was a disappointment, even John. It had been stupid to get his hopes up in the first place over someone so banal and unexceptional. “I understand that now you have the olive branch of the begging detective, you will undoubtedly resume your life as it was before he so callously left. It’s fine, John." Here, Jim turned to the doctor and narrowed his eyes. “I should have expected as much."

johnwatsonblogger

He wanted to punch Jim. He really did. Instead he raised his chin, glaring, and tried to loosen his fists - unsuccessfully. “What, so you can dump me for the sake of business, with no explanation, but the minute he talks to me - that’s it? We’re done?" He let out a sarcastic, bitter bark of laughter. “That’s fuckin’ rich, Jim, that’s great. I’m glad to hear its such an easy decision."

Jim shifted his position and continued to meet John's gaze coolly. "Everything is easy, John, when you don't dwell on anything. Sherlock's absence would have been easy if you hadn't tortured yourself with the memories. Sebastian's leaving was easy because I didn't wallow in it." He shrugged and smiled sweetly, eyes still narrow. "Why would you trading in the criminal for the hero be any different?"

Jim listened carefully, despite wishing to be elsewhere. When John was done, he lifted his chin and adjusted his shirt front smartly. “Like I said," he muttered, his former peace slowly fading to reveal a colder shade, “I understand." Instead of stepping around the doctor to carry on along the road, Jim didn’t waste time and simply strode past. His shoulder connected with John’s intentionally, though not roughly. Just enough to get his message across, he hoped. That if anyone was going to be abandoned, it wasn’t going to be Jim.

johnwatsonblogger

John bristled. Was he speaking another language? Something was clearly getting lost between his tongue and Jim’s ears. “Can you stop walking away for two bloody seconds, and explain what you understand then?" He demanded, swinging around to face Jim’s retreating back, hands curled into fists. “Because, obviously, you’re ignoring everything I’m saying."

Jim stopped walking but didn't turn around. He was tired. Just tired. Everyone was a disappointment, even John. It had been stupid to get his hopes up in the first place over someone so banal and unexceptional. "I understand that now you have the olive branch of the begging detective, you will undoubtedly resume your life as it was before he so callously left. It's fine, John." Here, Jim turned to the doctor and narrowed his eyes. "I should have expected as much."

Jim simply waited for John to elaborate. He was already in shutdown mode. He had been ditched enough times in business during his earlier years to learn that the sooner you healed, the sooner you could move on and succeed. If John was back in contact with Sherlock then it was clear how things would end, and Jim refused to be the fool in this scenario. So he waited patiently for the doctor to explain, eyes wide and placid.

johnwatsonblogger

John waited a moment to make sure Jim didn’t have some damn smart-arse comment coming, before leaning back on his heels, and staring at Jim evenly. “Sherlock wrote me a message. He apologized. I thought you would like to hear it from me before you heard it on the grapevine and freaked out over it." He glanced back at the front door he had left open, making sure no one was sneaking in, before meeting Jim’s yes again. “I’m not trying to ruin this Thing, just telling you that he might be coming back."

Jim listened carefully, despite wishing to be elsewhere. When John was done, he lifted his chin and adjusted his shirt front smartly. "Like I said," he muttered, his former peace slowly fading to reveal a colder shade, "I understand." Instead of stepping around the doctor to carry on along the road, Jim didn't waste time and simply strode past. His shoulder connected with John's intentionally, though not roughly. Just enough to get his message across, he hoped. That if anyone was going to be abandoned, it wasn't going to be Jim.

Jim stiffened somewhat, although he let his arm fall from John’s waist. He pocketed both hands, then removed one again to scratch pensively at his stubble. The criminal’s gaze had drifted to the doctor’s chest, although he saw nothing. At times such as these - when action was useless and only thinking would suffice - Jim retreated into his head and forgot his senses. Within the space of five seconds, he had arrived at his conclusion. With a short nod and faint smile at John, he backed towards the door and lifted his jacket once again to rest in the crook of his elbow. “I understand," he said. There wasn’t a note of sarcasm or spite in the man’s voice as he opened the door and let himself out.

johnwatsonblogger

John lifted his eyebrows at Jim’s immediate internal retreat, but it didn’t last long. He stood in some form of shock as Jim came to a decision and left, not giving John the time to think, nor reply. The sound of the door clicking gently shut brought the doctor back to life, and he leapt forward to yank it open again. Jim hadn’t gotten two steps down the street.

"No, no, that isn’t-" John said firmly, following his Jim and curling his hand around the Irishman’s arm to force him to stop. “No, you don’t understand."

Had it been possible for Jim to erase all memory of his and John’s most recent relationship, the criminal would have done so. He certainly acted in this manner, and when John linked arms with him, he simply looked at the foreign limb as if it had absolutely no purpose to be there. He then shifted this blank expression to John’s face. “Of course I do," he stated, eyes calm and voice gentle. He retrieved his arm and continued down the street.

johnwatsonblogger

John was starting to get angry. One letter from Sherlock, and that was it. Jim was off. What a fucking wanker. “No, you don’t" He snapped, striding forward to block Jim’s path. “If you understood, then you wouldn’t be marching up the street." He half wanted to shove Jim back inside their flat forcefully, put him on the chair, and talk at him until he understood that John wasn’t abandoning their Thing just as easily as Sherlock had abandoned him.

Jim simply waited for John to elaborate. He was already in shutdown mode. He had been ditched enough times in business during his earlier years to learn that the sooner you healed, the sooner you could move on and succeed. If John was back in contact with Sherlock then it was clear how things would end, and Jim refused to be the fool in this scenario. So he waited patiently for the doctor to explain, eyes wide and placid.

Jim stiffened somewhat, although he let his arm fall from John’s waist. He pocketed both hands, then removed one again to scratch pensively at his stubble. The criminal’s gaze had drifted to the doctor’s chest, although he saw nothing. At times such as these - when action was useless and only thinking would suffice - Jim retreated into his head and forgot his senses. Within the space of five seconds, he had arrived at his conclusion. With a short nod and faint smile at John, he backed towards the door and lifted his jacket once again to rest in the crook of his elbow. “I understand," he said. There wasn’t a note of sarcasm or spite in the man’s voice as he opened the door and let himself out.

johnwatsonblogger

John lifted his eyebrows at Jim’s immediate internal retreat, but it didn’t last long. He stood in some form of shock as Jim came to a decision and left, not giving John the time to think, nor reply. The sound of the door clicking gently shut brought the doctor back to life, and he leapt forward to yank it open again. Jim hadn’t gotten two steps down the street.

"No, no, that isn’t-" John said firmly, following his Jim and curling his hand around the Irishman’s arm to force him to stop. “No, you don’t understand."

Had it been possible for Jim to erase all memory of his and John's most recent relationship, the criminal would have done so. He certainly acted in this manner, and when John linked arms with him, he simply looked at the foreign limb as if it had absolutely no purpose to be there. He then shifted this blank expression to John's face. "Of course I do," he stated, eyes calm and voice gentle. He retrieved his arm and continued down the street.

"It certainly is, well done," Jim teased sarcastically. He twisted an arm around John’s waist and hooked him closer to bestow a raspberry kiss on the man’s cheek. The day had been successful and Jim felt light with relief at an important deal closing at the perfect time. Having John here to enjoy it with him - perhaps dinner on the roof? - made things all the better. “So," he continued, not releasing the doctor, “What’s this chat about, then?"

johnwatsonblogger

John was not a cowardly man, No, he was a soldier, he was a doctor, he had seen plenty of trouble in his day.

There was still the fact that Jim was the most dangerous man in London - probably in all of Europe - and he probably wouldn’t take the news of Sherlock well.

It was especially terrible that Jim was in such an obviously good mood. When he let himself sink to the level where John could read his emotions were normally the doctor’s favorite times, as Jim was normally cheerful and funny, and John could just enjoy his company.

With a deep breath, and butterflies clawing up from his stomach, he stated simply, and casually, “Sherlock sent me a message."

Jim stiffened somewhat, although he let his arm fall from John's waist. He pocketed both hands, then removed one again to scratch pensively at his stubble. The criminal's gaze had drifted to the doctor's chest, although he saw nothing. At times such as these - when action was useless and only thinking would suffice - Jim retreated into his head and forgot his senses. Within the space of five seconds, he had arrived at his conclusion. With a short nod and faint smile at John, he backed towards the door and lifted his jacket once again to rest in the crook of his elbow. "I understand," he said. There wasn't a note of sarcasm or spite in the man's voice as he opened the door and let himself out.

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