"You're not going to make Daddy mad now, are you, my dear?" Moriarty taunted Sherlock, whose hand was still starkly holding a gun on him. Moriarty glanced over his shoulder nonchalantly to where John, strapped in his bomb-vest, had red laser circles dancing over his forehead. Sherlock didn't lower his weapon, but they both knew he wouldn't fire it now. Moriarty smiled, and leaned in very close to Sherlock like he was going to whisper something terrifying in his ear, but at the last minute he grabbed Sherlock's pale face in both hands and French-kissed him. John spluttered as Sherlock offered no resistance, although he winced and cupped his hand to his face as Moriarty pulled back with a playful smile. Sherlock's lower lip was bleeding profusely. The psychopath had bitten him. John bristled and started forward.
"Uh-uh Johnny Boy, it wouldn't do to be jealous." Moriarty sing-songed. One red light darted to Sherlock's face and John became resolutely still.
Sherlock glared at the self-declared consultant criminal with more emotion than usual – grey eyes cold and wolf-like. Moriarty tilted his head, looking into them and reading something there."Oh my." he chuckled, in a faux-scandalized tone. "That wasn't your first kiss, was it?"
Sherlock, as he usually did when people alluded to his sexual life, said nothing.
Moriarty took this as confirmation and his voice dripped with condescension and glee. "Oh dear. Didn't mean to pop your cherry. And I bet you were saving it for someone special..." he shot a coy glance at John who was having difficulty concealing the surprise, wonder and loathing competing to be expressed by his face. Was the psychopath right? Sherlock continued his expressionless mask and his silence, staring at Moriarty, who appeared to be stalling for some reason. Sherlock waited for him to show his hand and make a move.
"Oh this is interesting." Moriarty looked Sherlock up and down, and then back at John. "This changes everything." he reached down and patted Sherlock's groin. Sherlock didn't move to stop him but shot him a dark look that Moriarty seemed to particularly enjoy.
"Shame, I'd hoped I'd had more of an effect on you." Moriarty smiled. "But there's plenty of time for that now...the real game is ON, SHERLOCK!" Moriarty suddenly yelled right in Sherlock's face.
He shrugged and stepped back, taking back his usual soft voice. "It's on. And this man here..." Moriarty walked back to put two hands on John's shoulders "This man here? He's the stakes." he affectionately ruffled John's hair and began to back slowly out of the pool-house."See you, boys."
"Catch...you...later." was all Sherlock said in reply.
A high pitched answer bounced back to him. "No you won't!"
The red circles disappeared and Sherlock lost no time dropping to his knees in front of John and tugging the bomb-vest off of him and skittering the hateful object as far across the chlorinated tiles as he could.
"I'm glad no one saw that little encounter, or you ripping my clothes off me." John joked weakly. "People might talk."
Sherlock eyes him cautiously, worried about the territory this offhand comment was leading to. "People do little else."
John leaned against the changerooms for support, and laughed. Once it became clear he wasn't going to ask Sherlock any probing questions, Sherlock looked him in the eye and chuckled too. "Are you alright?" he asked John.
"Oh, fine." he smiled.
"That thing, you offered to do...it was...good. Thank you." Sherlock awkwardly patted the other man's shoulder, the added pressure almost knocking John off his adrenaline-weak legs. He put an arm around John until he was on his feet, and together the two of them staggered home.
When they got to 221 Baker Street, they sat on their porch and shook their heads, still smiling and guffawing with nervous energy from their surreal night.
John glanced up at Sherlock's swollen lip, which looked for all the world like a beestung pout. "Oh God," John-the-doctor berated himself "I completely forgot to look at that." he reached absentmindedly to tilt Sherlock's head into the light with his left hand and pull the injured lip forward with his right, but Sherlock flinched out of his hands, eyes pooled with liquid terror. The look only lasted for a moment but John was sure he'd seen it. Did Sherlock think John was going to kiss him or something?
"Bit tender." Sherlock mumbled by way of explanation and got up swiftly, climbing the stairs two at a time, leaving their door open. John watched the tail of his best friend's coat disappear, and thought back over what Moriarty had said at the pool. Had the crazy Irish criminal brought some raw nerve in Sherlock to the surface with his lewd comments? Moriarty clearly thoughts so and would use it relentlessly to his advantage. If John was going to protect Sherlock, he was going to have to get to the bottom of it.
Talking to Sherlock about anything personal was difficult at the best of times. It would be easier to broach the sensitive topic if John were armed with a little background information. He groaned. The only person he knew who shared Sherlock's past was someone he really didn't want to ask…