I do not own Sherlock. The BBC does.
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From the Pool Scene in TGG
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Betrayal
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Sherlock opened the door and slowly walked towards the pool, looking up and spinning around as he searched for any signs of his opponent. He reached into his pockets and pulled out a small item.
"I brought you a little getting-to-know you present." He spoke into the silence, waving the small hard drive in the air. "That's what this has all been for, isn't it?" Sherlock asked, still turning in place. "All your little puzzles, making me dance. All to distract me from this." A door opened behind him and he turned eagerly, ready to see this elusive Moriarty. Sherlock froze, half facing the door, when John walked out in a big winter parka. They stared at each other for a moment, Sherlock desperately trying to make sense of what was happening.
"Evening." John greeted him, hands shoved into his parka. "This is a turn up, isn't it?" Sherlock shook his head slightly. Was John mocking him? How was this possible? He had read John! Had figured out the ex-soldier in less than a day. How could he have been so wrong?
Sherlock was quickly going over every observation, every deduction he had made about John trying to fit the information he had about him into what he was seeing know. It didn't fit. It didn't make sense!
"John, what the hell…" Sherlock looked questioningly at the other man, walking slowly towards him.
"Bet you never saw this coming." John spoke again, voice empty of any emotion.
'Stupid, stupid!' Sherlock thought venomously as he tried to push back the rush of petty emotions that were attempting to overwhelm him. Mycroft had been right. Caring was not an advantage and he was so foolish for think differently. He knew better. Caring got you nowhere. Emotions were useless and only succeeded in hindering his deductions or causing mistakes. Mistakes like trusting retired army doctors. Sherlock shook his head, eyes closed as he breathed deeply. He would delete this. Everything about John and what they had done together. After this meeting he would delete all of the futile emotions he allowed John to bring out in him and he would let this serve as a lesson. Trust no one. Care for no one. Alone protected him. He was absolutely sure of that now.
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Relief
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"What should I make him say next?" John asked. Sherlock looked at him sharply, mind racing at the words with different probable explanations. "Gottle of geer, gottle of geer, gottle…"
"Stop it." Sherlock demanded moving quickly to John, still wary. He had two possible explanations now.
"Nice touch, the pool. Where little Carl died." Either John had planned this to get suspicion off himself or... "I stopped him, I can stop John, too. Stop his heart." John pulled open his heavy jacket to reveal bombs strapped to his chest.
…Or he was a victim. Sherlock felt a rush of relief. John hadn't betrayed him. He had not been so terribly wrong about his deductions. Sherlock looked up from the bombs strapped to John's chest to his eyes. Focused so intently on him. Sherlock analyzed John's every twitch, searching his expressions for any deception. He saw worry and fear and anger. The worry quickly melted away into relief though and Sherlock was puzzled. What did John have to be relieved about he was strapped into a bomb and there was a red sniper light trained on his chest!
"Who are you?" Sherlock demanded as he moved closer to John.
"I gave you my number. I thought you might call." A voice echoed from the other side of the pool. A man in a suit walked from around the corner, smirking slightly. "Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket? Or are you just pleased to see me?"
"Both." Sherlock said as he pulled the gun from the waistband of his pants, training the barrel of the gun on the man.
"Jim Moriarty. Hi." Moriarty greets him happily. "Jim? Jim from the hospital? Huh, did I really make such a fleeting impression? But then I suppose that was rather the point." Sherlock kept the gun trained on Moriarty as the man walked steadily closer. "Don't be silly. Someone else is holding the rifle." Moriarty stops walking and slips his hands into his pockets. Sherlock glances at John to ensure his continued health before turning back to Moriarty.
"I've given you a glimpse, Sherlock- just a teensy glimpse- of what I've got going on in the big bad world. I'm a specialist, you see. Like you." Moriarty nods to Sherlock, a smirk quirking his lips.
"Dear Jim, Please will you fix it for me to get rid of my lover's nasty sister." Sherlock says slowly. "Dear Jim, Please will you fix it for me to disappear to South America."
"Just so."
"Consulting Criminal. Brilliant." Sherlock breaths lightly. John can't resist the urge to roll his eyes slightly.
"Isn't it? No one ever gets to me. And no one ever will." Jim boasts.
"I did." Sherlock states.
"You've come the closest." Jim corrects quickly. "Now you're in my way."
"Thank you." Sherlock smirks.
"Didn't mean it as a compliment."
"Yes, you did."
"Yeah, okay, I did." Moriarty admits with a shrug. "But the flirting's over. Daddy's had enough now." Jim says in a sing song voice.
"I've shown you what I can do. I've cut lose all those little problems. Even thirty million quid just to get you to come out and play. So take this as a friendly warning, my dear." Moriarty looks at him with the cold calculation of a criminal mastermind. "Back off. Although, I have loved this. Playing Jim, from IT. Playing gay. Did you like the touch with the underwear?"
"People have died." Sherlock said softly.
"That's what people DO!" Jim shouts the last word, voice echoing in the nearly empty pool.
"I will stop you." Sherlock informs the mad man.
"No, you won't." Jim snorts.
"You all right?" Sherlock asks John, keeping one eye on Moriarty as he checked John for any serious injuries. Jim comes up just behind John.
"You can talk, Johnny Boy. Go ahead." Jim teases as he moves in closer.
"Take it." Sherlock offers the memory stick to Jim, gun still trained on the consulting criminal.
"Oh, that. The missile plans." Moriarty takes the memory stick and kisses it lightly, sidestepping around John so that he is standing closer to Sherlock.. "Boring! I could have got them anywhere." He tosses the small device into the pool and John leaps forward wrapping one arm around Moriarty's neck and the other around his chest.
"Sherlock run!" He shouts.
"Oh! Good. Very good." Moriarty gasps. Sherlock is frozen, gun pointed at Jim's heart, unwilling to fire in case he hits John and equally unwilling to leave.
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Passion
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"Just like that." John hisses into the criminals' ear. "Pull that trigger, Mr. Moriarty, and we both go up."
"He's sweet." Moriarty says to Sherlock, completely unconcerned as John tightens his arms around his throat. "I can see why you like having him around. But then people do get sentimental about their pets. They're so touching and loyal." Moriarty sneers. "But oops! You've rather shown your hand there, Dr. Watson. Gotcha!" John looks at Sherlock in horror and Sherlock stares back questioningly before closing his eyes slowly. Of course! There's more than one sniper. Obvious. There must be a red light trained on his person somewhere. He opens his eyes again to see John push Moriarty away roughly and raise his hands. A look of relief passes over his face and Sherlock assumes the red light is gone. Moriarty wipes his suit jacket off before gesturing grandly.
"Westwood." He announces snobbishly. "Do you know what happens if you don't leave me alone, Sherlock? To you?"
"Oh, let me guess." Sherlock responded slowly. "I get killed." John tensed at his words and Sherlock spared a brief glance to the doctor before focusing back on the mad genius.
"Kill you?" Moriarty asked in surprise. "Eh, no. Don't be obvious. I mean I'm going to kill you anyway, someday. I don't want to rush it though. I'm saving it up for something special. No no no no. If you don't stop prying I will burn you. I will burn the heart out of you." Moriarty's face twisted for a second and his insanity is clear as glass for a moment before he went back to smiling jovially.
"I have been reliably informed that I don't have one." Sherlock countered.
"But we both know that's not quite true." Moriarty smirks meaningfully. "Well. I'd better be off. So nice to have had a proper chat." Sherlock stepped forward.
"What if I was to shoot you know? Right now." Sherlock threatened.
"Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face." Moriarty makes a mock surprised expression. "Because I would be surprised, Sherlock. I really would. And just a teensy bit…disappointed. And of course you wouldn't be able to cherish it for very long." Moriarty says meaningfully. "Ciao, Sherlock Holmes." Moriarty says menacingly before he walks away leaving through a side door.
"Catch you…later." Sherlock calls after him.
"No, you won't!" Jim calls back in a sing song voice before the door slams behind him. Sherlock waits a second longer and then throws the gun down; kneeling in front of John as he frantically but carefully rips the jacket and bombs from the doctor's torso.
"Alright? Are you alright?" Sherlock snaps worriedly.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Sher- Sherlock!" John protest as the bomb and jacket are torn roughly from his body and flung away from them. Sherlock picks the gun up from the floor and runs to the door that Moriarty had just left through. He came back a minute later having determined that the man would be long gone. "Are you okay?" John asks as Sherlock paces agitatedly, scratching his head with his gun.
"Me? Yeah. Fine. Fine. That, ah- thing that you did, that you, um, you offered to do. That was, um… good." Sherlock fumbled with the words.
"I'm glad no one saw that." John says from where he had collapsed on the ground, legs too weak with fear to hold him up at the moment.
"What?" Sherlock asks.
"You ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People might talk." John suggested. Sherlock turned to John.
"And if there was a valid reason for them to do so?" Sherlock asked softly, staring intensely at John.
"But there isn't." John said quickly. "Is there?" He added hesitantly as he forced himself to stand, keeping his eyes locked with Sherlock's.
Sherlock swayed slightly fighting an internal battle. He knew what he wanted to do. But he wasn't sure how it would be received and he wasn't sure how to deal with the emotions fogging his brain. He searched John's face for any sign that he might want the same thing and received his answer when John's eyes darted down to his lips, darkening slightly before trailing back up to meet his own.
Sherlock swooped down and attached his mouth to the other males, one hand going up to cup the back of his head and the other wrapping around John's waist. John stiffened in his arms and for a second Sherlock was terrified that he had read the signs wrong but then John gave a loud moan and threw his arms around Sherlock's neck, pushing himself up on his toes to reach his lips better.
"Sherlock." John breathed and Sherlock took the chance to plunge his tongue into John's mouth. John's head fell back with abandon as he allowed Sherlock to plunder his mouth, kissing back just as desperately. John gripped Sherlock's coat tight as he yanked him closer and Sherlock fisted his hands in the back of John's sweater desperately.
"John." Sherlock gasped. John tangled his fingers in Sherlock's curly black hair and searched his face.
"Are you sure you're alright? You're shaking." John questioned worriedly. As soon as John had pointed it out Sherlock realized that his body was indeed trembling slightly.
"I thought you were…I thought I had-" A door opened cutting Sherlock off and Moriarty rushed back in as numerous little red dots trained on them.
"I'm so changeable! It's a flaw of mine but to be fair it is my only one." Moriarty says teasingly. "I would try to convince you but ..." he laughs and his voice becomes sing-song again ".... everything I have to say has already crossed your mind!" Sherlock glances towards John who's breathing harshly, body tense next to Sherlock's. John gives a small, firm nod and Sherlock turns back to Jim.
"Probably my answer has crossed yours." Sherlock retorts as he slowly raised the gun and trains it on the discarded bomb vest lying between the consulting criminal and the consulting detective. Jim smirks slightly and tilts his head to the side before lifting his eyes to lock with Sherlock. He stares coolly, almost daringly as the moment of tension drags on.
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Escape
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"Ahh ahh ahh ahh. Stayin' alive. Stayin' alive." Loud music suddenly echos in the silence. Jim closes hhis eyes and sighs in frustration.
"Do you mind if I get that?" He asks Sherlock. Sherlock shakes his head, gun still trained on the criminal.
"No, no, please. You've got the rest of your life." Sherlock mocks him.
" Hello? ..." A moment of silence. " Yes, of course it is. What do you want?" He snaps. 'Sorry.' He mouths to Sherlock. 'Oh, it's fine!' Sherlock mouths back. Jim turns his back for a second before spinning back around face filled with fury.
"Say that again!" He shouts causing John to flinch. Sherlock tightens his grip on the gun and tenses even more. "Say that again and know that if you are lying I will find you and I will skin you." Moriarty says slowly making a hand gesture to go with his threat. "Wait." He commands whoever is on the other end. Lowering the phone, he begins to walk forward. Sherlock looks at the bomb jacket fretfully and adjusts the grip on his pistol as Jim approaches. Jim stops at the jacket and gazes down at the ground thoughtfully before lifting his eyes to Sherlock.
"Sorry. Wrong day to die." He says casually.
"Oh? Did you get a better offer?" Sherlock asks. Moriarty looks back down at his phone before turning and walking away.
"You'll be hearing from me, Sherlock." Jim says as he walk towards the door he had originally entered through, raising the phone to his ear. "So, if you have what you say you have, I'll make you rich. If you don't, I'll make you into shoes." He opened the door, snapping his fingers just before he walked out. The red sniper lights disappeared and John released a shaky breath of relief.
"What happened there?" John asks breathlessly.
Someone changed his mind. The question is: Who?" Sherlock murmured, lowering the gun to his side.
"Bloody hell if I know." John grumbled before yanking Sherlock to him and stretching up on his toes to kiss him deeply. Sherlock immediately responded, desperation seeping into the kiss as they ran hands over each other frantically.
"Let's go home." Sherlock panted, one hand in John's hair tilting his head back and the other cupping his arse firmly, pressing John tightly against his body.
"Hmm." John hummed in agreement. "I want to give you a thorough examination. For health issues of course. Need to see if your injured or anything."
"How thorough, Doctor Watson?" Sherlock asked smirking coyly.
"Very. You'll have to strip completely." John panted against Sherlock's throat. Sherlock let go of John so suddenly that the army doctor stumbled slightly.
"Come along, John. No need to linger about. I want to be gone before Lestrade and the other incompetents show up." Sherlock said as he dragged John along behind him. John smirked as he hurried along after Sherlock, already planning the night ahead of them. "Oh, and John? I like to bottom." Sherlock winked at him over his shoulder and John stumbled to a stop.
"Jesus!" He moaned before running after Sherlock, now even more desperate to get home.