Chapter 1 : mundane rules.
It was about midnight and they were both sitting on the university's pool deck playing this 'truth or dare' game, with an empty vodka bottle, they might be truly bored or very drunk to be doing this, or maybe even both.
"Okay, I'm waiting," Sherlock said folding his arms over his chest while trying to hold a serious expression upon his face, his right eyebrow rose in the air and he had to start chewing on his inner cheek to avoid the chuckle that no matter what he did threatened to leave his mouth, since he took his eighth or tenth sip of the now empty bottle lying on the floor beside him, "come on, just do the freaking jump Jim."
"If you so desperately want to see me jump from that trampoline, then you'll have to do it yourself first," the shorter boy stated, crossing his arms over his chest as well, ready to start an staring contest with his roommate if necessary.
"I'm not supposed to do it! I asked you «truth or dare» and you chose dare," Sherlock began explaining in a childish way, using all his self-restraint to avoid sticking his tongue out like some eight year old would do in this situation, "now, get up and do the damn jump, James!" this time he couldn't stop himself and his tongue stuck out of his mouth, like that was the action that sealed the deal of his imminent victory in this mundane game they were playing.
"No, I won't," Jim singsonged in a high pitched voice, "unless you do it first."
"What's the point of playing stupid games of ordinary people, if you won't follow ordinary people's rules?"
"Who knows? Why don't you jump and we find out?" he offered Sherlock with a smug smile spinning the bottle over the pool deck that separated the distance between their thighs, "following the rules Sherlock, it's just so boring, that's the main reason you are so boring honey, you are on the side of the angels, for a high functioning sociopath, you are surprisingly good at following rules, you may say you don't care, but I highly doubt you are able to break them," there it was, he had pulled Sherlock strings as far as they possibly went, now he just had to sit back and watch him dance.
An instant later Sherlock rose from his place on the pool deck, letting his coat fall beside his already removed shoes and socks, followed by his button-up shirt and his tight black trousers. He was plenty aware of Jim's glance fixed on his almost completely exposed body, but he still made his graceful walk towards the trampoline stairs, as graceful as his intoxicated self could manage walking anyways and he climbed all the way up, just as Jim expected him to do, because he had a point to prove and a mouth to keep shut.
"You don't know me, James Moriarty," he states looking down at Jim from the edge of the platform, but from that height he doesn't notice how Jim's mouth moves in perfect sync with his own, anticipating his intended point.
"I know you better than anyone, Sherlock Holmes," the boy said loud enough for Sherlock to hear, giving him the last push he needed to jump.
"No, you don't know me at all," he responded and then he threw himself into the pool in a perfectly performed jump, "your turn," Sherlock exclaimed emerging from the water already knowing Jim would refuse.
"I think I'll owe you a fall, dear" Jim said without appearing impressed at all for his perfect performance up there, "but let me tell you something, Sherly, I thought I knew you well—, not perfectly."
"And explain me something Jimmy, Why do you think you know me perfectly?"
"I think I know you perfectly,
because I knew you would jump just to prove I wasn't right about you, but I was so right it actually pains me, now that I know you'll go to heaven, angel, while I burn in hell," Jim clicked his tongue, somehow gutted by how easy was to foresee Shelock's decisions, he was normally less predictable and yet again there was this vodka bottle he had trick him into drinking almost completely on his own, "I also know that right now, you are dying to kiss me," he added in a whisper, eyes burying furiously into his, tempting his fate, provoking the odds of Sherlock's behavior.
Like a magnet Sherlock approached the brazen offerer's daring invite.
"No, I'm not," he proclaimed, doubt creeping up his voice like a virus consuming all the data stored in a hard drive.
"Okay maybe you're not," he said not wholeheartedly convinced of his words, "but—, I don't care about your wishes, I only care about mine," Jim dropped with his characteristical psycho grin plastered on his mouth, pushing Sherlock's insides to shiver, if it was from excitement or fear he didn't know, but he felt Jim's legs surrounding his waist and pulling him closer and he did nothing to fight the tug driving him to the inevitable position of Jim hungry parted lips. The kiss was passionate and sloppy thanks to the big amounts of alcohol the were drinking all night, but it left the same longing taste of loneliness in both of them, when they inevitably broke apart to breathe, probably the feeling of their last night together breaking its way through their joined foreheads and their tangled feeling heavy breathings crashing on each others lips.
Jim gave all of he in that kiss, almost as if it was his last night with Sherlock and it really was, their last night together in a long long time.
"I better be off," Jim said letting Sherlock free from his grip.
"Will I see you around?' Sherlock asked, knowing this was the moment he had been fearing for months, the inevitable moment when Jim disappeared from his life.
"Of course dear, what would a demon like me do without his angel?" Jim questioned rising from his place by the pool and walking with his shoes in his hand towards the nearest exit.
"Die out of boredom?" Sherlock offered watching him part and as the young Jim crossed the door he suddenly dropped the desperate plea threatening to leave his mouth, "will you please stay one more night Jimmy?" But he reckoned that due to the distance Jim had already walked through he couldn't possibly have heard him.
AN/: this story was born a few years ago when my English was a lot worse than it is now. It was a one-shot I wrote when I first started shipping Sheriarty, but now that I'm obsessing about it once again I decided to continue it and it will narrate all the times Sherlock and Jim have crossed paths in my mind, because I refuse to believe Jim just kept Carl's shoes and waited all those years doing nothing until he finally sent those cases to Sherlock, no, that's not how obsession works.