John sighs as he opens the door to his apartment after yet another uneventful date ending with the same few familiar words: "Don't bother calling me." His desire to get to his room so silently that Sherlock wouldn't wake, take a look at him and know exactly what went on was stronger than all other times because this time, this one time, it was not Sherlock's fault. Usually, his dates would be interrupted by an 'urgent' text from Sherlock to meet him someplace or a call with similar intentions from Lestrade, but this time, there was no crime that required his assistance. Ironically, it was this exact reason that the date had ended.
"So basically I'm training to be a brain surgeon, I know it sounds daunting but I really enjoy…" Clarissa's voice trailed on as John checked his phone for the umpteenth time. Did I leave my phone on silent? Did I just turn it to silent? Is there a stable connection here? Thoughts of this calibre continued to flood John's mind throughout the date, and he couldn't stop peeking at his phone every few seconds.
"I'm sorry, is there something you have to attend to? Clarissa asked, a little annoyed.
"Oh, no, not at all. I'm just maybe expecting a text or call." John tried to explain.
"From who?" Clarissa asked, a small crease forming between her eyebrows.
John paused for a moment, unable to reply. "From…Sh- the police."
"Are you on a date with the police or me?" Clarissa asked, a hint of a demanding tone present.
John stared at her for a while, but then Clarissa picked her handbag up and John knew the date was over.
And so there he was, creeping up the stairs at 1am, trying to remember every spot where there would be a creaking sound when stepped on and avoiding those steps. But as he got up the stairs, he heard the faint sound of a television programme from their living room. Sherlock never watched any TV, John thought, he said it was taking up too much of his brain space. John took the gun he always kept on his belt and crept up the stairs. The door to his apartment was half open. John readied his gun, kicked the door open and pointed it at whoever was on Sherlock's chair. But John recognized that silhouette in the half second before it turned around.
"Moriarty? Wha-" John was at a loss of words. Moriarty. Jim Moriarty, wearing one of Sherlock's T-shirt and shorts that Sherlock never wore. Jim Moriarty was on Sherlock's chair, a laptop on his lap, watching the news with a bowl of chips in one hand. Then, a half asleep Sherlock stumbled out clad in nothing but his blanket wrapped around him. John recognized Sherlock's presence but wasn't ready to take his aim off Moriarty.
"You're early." Moriarty said to John.
John was stunned into silence.
Moriarty raised an eyebrow at Sherlock and then went back to watching the news.
"What is going on?" John demanded.
"What are you doing out here?" Sherlock said.
"Watching the news." Moriarty replied matter-of-factly as he put another chip into his mouth.
"Sherlock!" John raised his voice.
Sherlock put one hand on his forehead and closed his eyes. John had almost never seen Sherlock so exasperated and clueless before. "John, I don't know how to tell you this, you should not be seeing this, I don't-"
"John, I think Sherlock gives you a little too much credit for your intelligence. Put two and two together." Moriarty interrupted Sherlock.
There was a bit of silence then in the room. Until Sherlock turned to John and said: "We're a thing."
"A thing? What thing?" John asked.
"The thing. Jim- I mean Moriarty and I." Sherlock explained.
"You make me sound like a monster." Moriarty helped. "And since when have you gotten back to calling me Moriarty?" he continued with a hint of a smile in his voice.
Sherlock shot a glance at Moriarty, as if to say What the hell do you think you're doing?
Moriarty looked up slightly from the screen and smiled coyly at Sherlock, amused by Sherlock's reactions.
Sherlock's intense gaze immediately lost some of its determination, and he turned back to John who was in disbelief.
"I'm still holding the gun, if you were his" John swallowed, "boyfriend, aren't you afraid I'll shoot?"
"You won't." Moriarty and Sherlock said in unison. Moriarty bit his lip, finding it funny. Sherlock looked at Moriarty and calmed down.
John put down the gun, but he was no less on his guard. "How did this happen?"
"I don't, well I-" Sherlock started, and Jim rolled his eyes at Sherlock.
"Wait, I changed my mind. Don't tell me." John cut him off, deciding that it would be better if he not know.
"Well, boys, this has been fun." Moriarty said. He grabbed his pants and pulled it over Sherlock's shorts. "But I have to go." He took buttoned his blazer over Sherlock's shirt and started towards the door. He turned around upon reaching the door. "Until next time." He said to Sherlock with a quick and flirtatious wink.
John frowned slightly, disturbed by the exchange.
Sherlock walked over to sit in his chair. He crossed his legs in a relaxed position and let one arm rest on the armrest while the other supported his face as he stared at John.
"Well that happened," said John.
"John I just want you to know that I do care about Jim, and he's actually not as bad a person as you think and we, he and I really share many similarities."
"He's a murderer!" John said.
"And I solve crimes for fun." Sherlock replied, not missing a beat. "In this sense we really do go well together."
John was about to make another point, but he saw Sherlock's face, and he realized that Moriarty had made Sherlock smile. "You really do like him don't you?" John asked.
Sherlock smiled as he knew that John was both accepting and understanding of the situation. "Don't tell him." He joked