Warning: If you don't like boy/boy, I'm wondering why you even clicked on this story. Maybe some stronger stuff laer on but not in this chapter yet. I'll tell you when we get to it.

Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own BBC's Sherlock or any of the characters from the show or book. All rights go to Moffat and Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Though this particular story is my own, no doubt about that.

Summary: John wonders what it would be like if he was on the other side of the law for a change and challenges Sherlock for a little game of wits and crime. Established John/Sherlock and some random Mystrade thrown in there. My very first Sherlock fanfic in which I was brave enough to show the world.

Chapter 1: The Bad Guy

"Hey, Sherlock? I've been wondering-"

"Not too much I hope."

John ignored the common twinge of annoyance and instead violently bounces his general weight on a newly acquired bruise Sherlock received being careless on their recent case. The younger man hissed sharply and nearly shoved the other man off his lap. John yelped and gripped Sherlock's ridiculously soft bathrobe to prevent from falling off their small couch which then prompted the consulting detective to reflexively grope at John's jumper and jerk him back back heavily in to his chest. Both men tilted dangerously.

In the end, after much cursing, flailing limbs, and tugs, the two boys found their rolls reversed. Sherlock huffed, and crossed his arms like a child in John's lap, refusing to spend anymore time on such a useless game.

John, was just fine with their new positions and adjusted his detective till his marble cheek was cradled against John's shoulder.

"As I was saying," John continued casually, "Remember that night at the pool?"

"Of course I do."

"You know, when Moriarty had me speaking for him and then you found out I had semtex strapped to my chest?"

"Get to the point, John."

"Yes well I've been wondering, when I came out to meet you, did it cross your mind to wonder if I was actually Moriarty?"

Sherlock hesitated. John craned his neck around and tried to hide his smile as he watched the expressions flicker across the detective's face.

John loved this. Everyone has this profound notion that that Sherlock has never harbored any compassionate emotions to any human being. Hell, according to everyone else, Sherlock is the biggest frozen, ass-berg on the planet. Beautiful, cold, and dangerous; but downright useless in anywhere but the churning oceans of London crime.

They're dead wrong of course, and that is what John loved. His Sherlock never shows the emotions he could control, and when he couldn't control them, it was usually in front of John. Only 10% of an iceberg is visible above water; the other 90% of it was currently sitting in a doctor's lap on 221B Baker st.

Sherlock finally spoke, but hesitantly and avoided eye contact, "Of course John. Though it was quick, the thought was the first to cross my mind. Anyways, I think I would have noticed by then if you were Moriarty; which we have established you aren't."

"What if I was?"

"There are no "What if's", John. There is only, "What is"."

John quirked an eyebrow, "Fine, then "What is" I was Moriarty?"

Those brilliant blue irises glowed in the dull lamplight as it turned to meet the cool oceanic gaze. Sherlock spoke with whispered conviction, "You aren't."

John sighed, "Sherlock-"

"But if you were," Sherlock continued. That charming little smirk quirked up on those soft bow lips; his teeth flashing slightly, "Then I wouldn't love you."

John frowned, this wasn't the response he was hoping for, "What do you mean? Wouldn't I be the same person but just, you know, bad?"

"Considering the direction of this conversation, I'm assuming the "Moriarty" we're discussing here is not as in the person Moriarty, but "Moriarty" as in, "The Bad Guy"." Sherlock made a face, "Quite frankly John, you are never to be this "bad person" that is so dominant in your thoughts at the moment and I doubt you ever could be. Your reliability, compassion, bravery, and loyalty; added to your great fondness for cuddling, tea, and horrible jumpers would, in my experience, make a poor excuse for a villain. Even a criminal mastermind would become a saint with your tight-lipped ethical principles. "Moriarty" is not John Watson. Therefore, I would not love "John Watson" unless he was, the you, John Watson."

John took a moment to put his head around this new revelation, "So... you wouldn't love me... because the me as "Moriarty", would not be the me I am right now? You don't think I could be still be me and still be bad at the same time?"

"Of course not, John! Moriarty is extraordinarily clever, and completely unconcerned with the welfare of humanity. A man like you, who loses eight times in a row in Connect Four against a ten year old-"

"Seven times..." John grumbled.

"- and gets himself stuck a tree for a stupid cat, could never be capable of being a "Moriarty"."

The doctor blinked and took in all the information. Flattery from Sherlock Holmes is not a common thing, and even now, John still wasn't sure if he should be overjoyed with these latest observations that seemed so carefully thought out, or offended that Sherlock believes he lacks the capabilities of being bad at all, "But if I was Moriarty, wouldn't I be more interesting? Wouldn't you want someone more who can keep you on your toes? I'm completely normal after all."

"Stop thinking John, its annoying." Sherlock snapped and snaked his long fingers slowly through his blogger's hair. He drags their foreheads together affectionately; a gesture he's learned long ago that always took the tension away from John's shoulders. Their lips just centimeters away, and their eyes so close, it was like seeing their future together. Clear, but full of danger and passion, "Of course you're normal to everyone else, John. No doubt about that. But you are my extraordinary."

John giggled, kissing the tip of the detective's nose, "Since when did you become such a sap?"

"I'm stating this obvious, John. Mere conclusions based on data and observations acquired over time. How does that make me a "sap"?" Sherlock's eyebrows came together. You could literally see that little hamster in his head spinning around in confused circles.

John just smiled and decided not to mention the fact that the very same "High-Functioning Sociopath" Detective had told him he loved him twice in one casual conversation, "Well, even if I'm not Moriarty, I think it would be fun to be the bad guy."

"Hmm, indeed."

"Have you ever considered being the bad guy?"

Sherlock smirked again, "Yes, but I find it is more fun to chase then to run."

A mischievous gleam was in John's eyes, "Fine, then I'll be the bad guy, you'll be the good guy, and you can chase me around all you want." The little Doctor brought his hand up and traced slow circles through the baby curls at the nape of his lover's beautiful neck. His eyes dilated and spoke of promise. His hands caressing a crescendo in the symphony of sinful passion he knew would coax forward a wonderful night.

The Detective's voice rumbled deep, the light of the chase and his own promises in his eyes, "Is that a challenge, dear Watson?"

A/N: I'm going to try to post and update this story often and I've already written a couple more chapters. I hoped you liked this start, but let me just say chapter 2 was much more fun to write then the first.