Let's call it a casual conversation between enemies, about a proposal Sherlock nor understands, or can refuse, but later wishes he hadn't complied to. Namely to do with being chained to a mattress. Implied BDSM and sexual content. Will get more graphic throughout the chapters.
Reviews are much appreciated!
Or Else I'll Film You
Sherlock wouldn't call it complying willingly, though he'd had enough opportunities to back out. The problem was that there was one thing he hated more than making a wrong decision and that was being bored. Jim Moriarty knew that, which was all the more reason to keep the consulting criminal from getting to him. It was exactly what Moriarty wanted; a curious, addicted Sherlock that was on the verge of desperation for that final conclusion of this chapter. A conclusion he could unfortunately still only guess at. Again, that was exactly Moriarty's plan. If Sherlock knew what was going to happen he wouldn't want to come and see it for himself. He wasn't going to like it, obviously. But not knowing what it was… that drove him crazy. And so, despite knowing it was a trap and knowing he was going to regret walking straight into it, he walked straight into it.
This time Moriarty had provided the location. Sherlock figured it was one of the many buildings he sported. Probably one he wouldn't return to after their endeavours there. Unless Sherlock would never walk out of there. That had him hesitating, but the doubt lasted only a moment. He was here now and turning his back to the door was no doubtfully going to get him under sniper's aim. He had made his choice and now there was no turning back anymore.
The handle was firm, which meant it was old and barely used in the past few years. The hollow clang that sounded upon opening the door was definitely satisfying. A proper entrée to a promising ending. It was certainly more satisfying than the clang that echoed out against the far walls of the large space upon having the heavy door fall shut – and locked – behind him. A definite. This was it. He was in Moriarty's story now and the villain would have him however he wanted.
The space was darkened and moist, but Sherlock was certain there was more to it than your average deserted industrial lot. He took a few steps towards the centre, but his fascination was immediately drawn to a staircase to his far right. A staircase leading down into the cellar.
Sherlock's steps were as calculated as they were casual. No matter the nerves Moriarty inevitably embarked on him, he refused to show his favourite criminal the effect he had on Sherlock. As they stood now, the criminal already had enough advantages over him, without the detective baring his weaknesses any further. The only reason he'd felt comfortable making the decision to come here today was knowing Moriarty's weaknesses as well. Knowing that Moriarty needed him alive and feeling that the story was far from over. It wouldn't end today. He'd walk out of here. Though he might not be unchanged.
He took the stairs, knowing that Jim Moriarty had intended for him to take them. They had seemed cleaner, more used, than the rest of the space. Although Sherlock was glad to find the cellar wasn't as dark and unwelcoming, he was objecting to the red laser that he found when he glared down at his coat. He stopped in his steps, right at the bottom of the staircase. The room was smaller. It even somehow resembled a living room – no, a bedroom. There were a few pieces of furniture. A couch and a coffee table. There was even a fridge in the far end of the space. But the mattress in the middle of the room had his attention. The chains attached to each corner of the thing, conflicted with the otherwise homely atmosphere.
Sherlock was simultaneously glad and disturbed when he deduced the mattress hadn't been used. At least it didn't seem part of Moriarty's daily affairs to bring people down here and sexually assault them, but it was bothersome the mattress was especially for him.
"You're not going to keep me here waiting for long, are you?" Sherlock spoke, slowly looking around the place. The walls were covered with some sort of wallpaper, clearly put up just for the occasion. There was a single iron door in the corner and a few darkened windows up above. Through one of them he was being held at gunshot. Nothing he could do about that. "Don't tell me you have to keep me waiting. You've had more than enough time to prepare," Sherlock continued to speak.
"Yes, I have," Moriarty's sing song voice came as a reply, after he'd pushed the door open and stepped into the room. This door, too, fell shut with a clang. Heavy. "But tell me Sherlock, have you?" he smirked, before he pouted, before taking his eyes off Sherlock entirely, to casually take a look around at his handiwork.
"I thought you might settle for something a little more humane," Sherlock told him, half-truthfully, half-mockingly.
"Oh," Moriarty looked at him surprised. "I forgot sex wasn't part of what you'd call your own humanity."
Sherlock didn't reply, not so much as a faked bemused smirk crossed his lips. That was a confirmation in itself, that Moriarty had been right about that, but Sherlock didn't care that he knew. He understood this game. It only ended when the one that set the pieces in place was satisfied and he was certain Moriarty wouldn't be satisfied until Sherlock complied and gave in to the humiliation. This was only the first step, an easy one to take. He'd accepted long ago that his sex-drive was as non-existent as his sexuality.
His eyes focused on Moriarty once more, carefully observing the man, as to not miss out on what opportunities he might get to make this a little bit easier for himself.
"Am I to assume your gay act wasn't fully falsified?" Sherlock asked.
"Obviously," Moriarty said, quite pleased with himself. His hands slipped into his pockets, as he took this moment to look at the detective he so cleverly had lured into his trap. But Moriarty's sense of achievement was shortlisted, which meant he needed to constantly trigger it and how better to do that than through getting what he wanted, time and time again?
"Get on with it then, I can see you're desperate," Sherlock spoke.
"Oh, don't pretend you're not feeling a teensy bit nervous, Sherlock," Moriarty retorted, with a wide grin on his face.
"What's the fun in giving it away that easily?" Sherlock asked. Moriarty seemed pleased with that answer, which in turn pleased Sherlock. He was well aware that these games they played weren't healthy, but he didn't live to be healthy.
"Good, you're already starting to learn how this works," Moriarty said.
"No, I think you're starting to learn," Sherlock replied. "How to play me, that is."
Moriarty did a step towards the detective. He noted how he was no longer held at gunpoint, because it was no longer necessary. He wouldn't go anywhere, after all. He couldn't go anywhere. The building was locked up and an attempt to escape would only scrape off his dignity. Not a satisfaction he wanted to give Moriarty. Besides, it would probably be more of a disappointment than a satisfaction.
"Now, come on Sherlock," Moriarty said, holding out his hand. Sherlock looked at it, before he ignored it and took a step towards the mattress. That was ultimately what Moriarty wanted after all. He didn't need to go through the embarrassment of taking Moriarty's hand to get there, so he wouldn't.
"What will you do after you're done?" he asked, though his eyes remained fixed on the mattress, indicating that he asked the question aloud to himself, rather than directly at Moriarty, who he knew wouldn't answer. Sherlock's eyes roamed the mattress. "You'll let me go."
"What makes you say that?" Moriarty asked. Sherlock noted that the criminal had closed in on him. Actually, Moriarty was right behind him. He could almost feel his breath on the back of his neck. Still, he didn't turn around to face him.
"You want me to relive this memory," Sherlock spoke. "That's humiliating. Being with John and thinking of you. Thinking of you… compromising me."
"You're not wrong," Moriarty replied, which wasn't half as satisfying as having him tell Sherlock he was right, but it was good enough. After all, he was trying his best to be as unsatisfying to Moriarty as he possibly could, given the unfortunate situation. Then again, he had already known he wasn't going to like what he'd find here.
"Frankly, it could be worse," he said, to which Moriarty let out a laugh.
"Oh, I will not let you down, Sherlock," Moriarty spoke, his voice turning to a whisper as he closed in further. This time Sherlock could feel the warm breath caress his skin. The next moment Moriarty had disappeared again, taking his distance from Sherlock. "Come on, Sherlock, face me," Moriarty spoke as if he addressed a small child. Every word was mocking, belittling, but Sherlock paid little mind to it. After all, that was what Moriarty wanted to see… the effect he could have on the detective. It wasn't easy for anything to break through to him and he would try his utmost best not to have Moriarty change that. Well, not without effort. Severe effort.
"This is only the first step," Sherlock replied, while he slowly turned to lay eyes on the criminal. "You might tire before the end."
"Oh, it will be my pleasure regardless," Moriarty said, "literally." He added the latter with the amused grin Sherlock had become to see as familiar. In fact, through the discomfort and inevitable worry he did feel… at home to be in Moriarty's presence. No one could rile him up more than the one consulting criminal could, but it was a change he welcomed, a means to feel something beside the dull tremble of daily crime solving. It had come to mean so little when Moriarty's name wasn't attached to the case.
"As will it be mine," Sherlock dared, honestly. That had Moriarty smiling, but it didn't reach his eyes. It never did. For a split second he caught himself wondering what it would look like if that smile would reach the criminal's eyes, but it was unimportant should he find out. Still, though… it would be quite the achievement, wouldn't it?
"Lay down," Moriarty ordered. "And you ought better listen, Sherlock…"
"Or else?"
"Or else I'll film you."