This is a little AU one off I wrote. Enjoy.
Four Minutes Sober
Jim Moriarty was a man of simple pleasures. He enjoyed good music, sudoku, crosswords, jigsaw puzzles, and the company of his orange tabby cat, Fivel. He was a professor of sociology at a local university, member of a MENSA. His love of "people-watching" lead him to become a regular attendee of Alcoholics Anonymous meetings on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He would come home from work at a quarter past three, have tea, and then quickly dress down to look the part of struggling alcoholic. These outfits were usually printed t-shirts, zip up hooded-shirts, and worn out jeans. He liked to take out his contacts and slip on his glasses too. This was his camouflage and it allowed him to blend in seamlessly. No one would suspect his genius level IQ so long as he kept quiet and looked the part.
It was a typical Thursday for Jim. He was dressed and ready to go by four, and with a warm goodbye to Fivel he left his tiny second-floor flat. The chapel where the meets were held was only three blocks away, and on a cool summer evening like this, with no rain in sight, Jim was glad for the short, brisk walk. The fresh air did him good. When he arrived at Saint John's Chapel he slipped quietly inside. Most everyone was already there, sitting around at a grouping of chairs. There were always too many chairs in the circle. It allowed for people to keep personal space, and also left openings for random walk-ins. Though in all the time Jim had been coming to this meet, never once had there been a random walk-in.
He took a seat in his usual chair and looked around the circle, taking in all the familiar faces. Irene, the accountant who ended up abusing her lover, Kate, while drunk. So she began this rehabilitation. She was a hard woman to read and Jim always enjoyed when she spoke. Then there was Sebastian. Jim had immediately been drawn to Sebastian. He had the look of a trouble maker. He'd been dishonorably discharged from the military for his conduct. He'd taken to the drink not long after and was in and out of prison until he started coming to the meets. Though he hardly seemed sober most of the time. A woman who spent a great deal of time trying to cozy up to Sebastian was a woman who went by Harry (Short for Harriet likely), who claimed that he alcoholism ruined her marriage and caused her estrangement from her brother. There was also a simple family man named Greg, and a young woman named Molly who never really seemed to be drunk. She was more or less enamoured with one of the other members. She often sat close to and tried to comfort Jim's favorite of the bunch. Sherlock. He wasn't just an alcoholic, he often dabbled in drugs. He claimed he didn't need these meets, that he was fine. He'd always insist that it was pointless to try and fix him, he wasn't broken. The man who lead the meets was his older brother, Mycroft, and Jim assumed that Mycroft was simply forcing Sherlock to come in hopes of getting through to him.
This evening was going smoothly as usual. Irene bragged about her improvement, Sebastian avoided directly speaking of his sobriety, Harry cried, Molly passed, Greg shared a story about his five children, and Sherlock insisted he needn't be here. When Mycroft turned to Jim, however, everything took a strange turn. The door of the chapel banged open, and in strolled a sturdy looking man with a metal cane. He had a military haircut, and held himself tall despite the limp in his gait. He made his way over to the circle and Harry immediately jumped up.
"John! Wh... What are you doing here?" she exclaimed. Jim looked between the pair as John took a seat beside Harry. He was keeping a very reserved look on his face but it suddenly became very apparent what he was doing here. John's eyes were bloodshot, he was leaning oddly as if he was worried of tipping out of his folding chair and onto the floor. This was Harry's brother, and he'd shown up drunk. Harry glared at him and gave him a shove.
"Six months and you don't call once! Why are you here!" she demanded. John took a breath and motioned for Harry to sit down. Jim watched in fascination as Harry obeyed and then leaned in, sniffing her brother. "And you reek of alcohol! You...! You're ruining everything!"
Mycroft cleared his throat as if about to interject and take control, but instead, Harry stormed out, leaving everyone (except for the incredibly inebriated John) very uncomfortable. Sherlock cleared his throat.
"Well this has all been very... Entertaining. But If she's leaving, I will too." he announced coldly, getting up and sweeping out the door. Jim watch Molly follow immediately behind him like a lost puppy. John giggled weakly and his head lolled backwards.
"She's righ' pissed..." he muttered. Irene cleared her throat and stood.
"Thank you all. I think it's best I'm off as well." she said. Wordlessly everyone else seemed to leave. Mycroft sighed as he was left with John drunkenly slumped in a chair. Mycroft stood and looked over John with worry and irritation creasing his brow. Jim wondered what could have driven John to this sudden action. Just barging into his sisters AA meet after no contact for so many months, and to do it drunk no less. Instead of leaving with the others he approached Mycroft as an idea struck him.
"I...Mycroft I suppose you should be off after Sherlock. I'll take care of this bloke." he offered softly. Mycroft narrowed his eyes and slowly turned to Jim, straightening to stand at his full height. He tucked his hands into his pockets and gave a resigned sigh.
"I'm afraid that would be unprofessional of me." Mycroft replied finally. Jim frowned and opened his mouth to respond, but for the second time this evening, John interrupted him. John cleared his throat loudly and sat up straight.
"Mycroft... was it? Yeah let this bloke get me home. I'll be fine. It's... all fiiiiine." John replied with a lopsided grin, tipping forward. His head landed against Jim's stomach as he did so and Jim had the presence of mind to at least appear startled, but really, it didn't both him. He was fascinated with this strange behavior. Mycroft huffed a little and slowly nodded.
"All right then. If that's really what you want. I am quite grateful." Mycroft replied. Jim smiled warmly and slipped an arm under one of John's and hefted him to his feet. John clumsily leaned on Jim and loosely grasped his cane, though he didn't appear to be limping anymore. John giggled a bit as he let Jim lead him out. Jim was startled as he noted John's ability to sort of walk without the cane he'd been leaning on heavily before.
Peculiar. Maybe the alcohol is numbing the pain. Though it would seem as if he's... forgotten his disability. Jim thought to himself. He carried most of John's weight out to the street where he hailed a cab and helped John into the back seat. He slid in after him.
"Where do you live, then?" Jim asked, looking John over. John slumped against the door of the car and laughed bitterly.
"Nooooowhere mate... Nowhere. Fiance jus' dumped me. Didn't like bein' with an impotent cripple anymore. 's all fine when you're shootin' away an' bein' a war hero... But don' come back injured and emotionall-llally... scarred..." John hiccuped, "Or they'll drop ya like a diss...diseased animal."
Jim nodded in recognition.
"Ah. I see..." he sighed. "Well, then we'll... Just go back to mine."
Jim gave his address to the cabby and they made the two minute drive there. It took some doing, but Jim was able to get John into the lift and then successfully into his flat where John collapsed onto his sofa. Jim took John's jacket off him and set it, and the cane aside.
"You need to sober up... Let's get some coffee in you." Jim said, handing John the telly remote before shuffling across the living room into the adjoining kitchen. John didn't really comprehend what was thrust into his hand at first but when he did he flicked on the box and clicked through to a cooking show and then set the remote aside, his head lolling back against the couch. Jim put on a kettle and pulled out the only coffee he had (instant) and set to making two cups.
"Cream and sugar?" Jim called. John grunted noncommittally in response. Jim decided against them. The stronger the better. He pulled some biscuits down from the cabinet as well and then a moment later, when the kettle was whistling away, he made up the coffee and brought everything into the living room. He pushed aside his notebooks and magazines that littered the table and set down the mugs and biscuits.
"Come now, John. Let's get some of this coffee in you." Jim urged. John lazily perked up and took the mug, sipping quietly at the coffee. It was strong and bitter, but it seemed to be doing the trick. A mug of coffee and a few biscuits later, John was slightly more coherent. Jim had curled up on the opposite end of the sofa, tucking his legs beneath himself. He sipped his own coffee and cautiously watched John who was watching television. The more Jim examined John the more he felt compelled to strike up conversation with him. However, their eyes didn't meet, and neither broke the silence between them. The only sound in the room was a woman explaining the properties of phyllo dough.
Fivel, who had been hiding when Jim first brought this strange man home, soon crept out from behind the telly and sauntered over to perch himself on the couch between them. He looked at Jim and mewed as if to say "How dare you bring a strange man into my home". John smiled a little as he looked down at the fluffy orange creature. Jim reached out and scratched behind Fivel's ears.
"I've never brought anyone home with me before. He's a bit miffed." Jim commented blandly. John chuckled quietly and Fivel's tail twitched.
"He's cute." John commented, reaching up to scratch behind the cat's ears as well, his hand brushing against Jim's. Jim was not one for human contact and slowly retracted his hand. Fivel seemed to warm a bit at John's affection and soon curled up and dozed off between them.
"I'm... Sorry about this." John said, shame making his voice heavy. Jim, who'd been staring at his cat, looked up suddenly and furrowed his brows.
"Why'd you do that? Cause a huge scene for your sister?" Jim asked calmly. John sighed and shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck.
"I'm not sure. Seemed like the thing to do at the time." John replied wearily. "I'm not a drinker really. I uh... Well I'm still a bit tipsy now but... It doesn't take much... I just. Well Mary she... Hm."
John is having trouble holding onto any one strand of thought, Jim observed. He cleared his throat.
"Well. Why were you drinking in the first place, if you don't normally do such a thing?" Jim inquired, tilting his head as he watched John's face intently.
"Because 'm gay." John confessed, his voice cracking. "I was invalided home from Afghanistan seven months ago... I'd gone overseas to escape th' fact that I was... Not attracted to my fiance. Nope... I was attracted to my neighbor. A man. I'd been a simple doctor before I went over seas... Maybe I thought the army would stamp it outta me... Didn't... Came back when I got shot..."
"The leg?" Jim interjected.
"Shoulder." John corrected. "When I came back... I tried to fake it... Make it work. But I couldn't... So Mary threw me out today. After months of trying."
Jim felt something inside him soften and he shook his head, reaching over and touching John's shoulder warmly.
"I am... sorry to hear that." Jim said finally. There was a long silence between them, and John finally met Jim's eyes, a small smile quirking at his lips.
"I... can't believe I just told you that..." John admitted shamefully, chuckling softly and looking away. "Forgive me if I've been... too forward or... something."
"You've been drinking. It's understandable. It's easier to confide in strangers when you're hurting." Jim said calmly. John nodded wearily and looked out the window at the darkened sky.
"It... must be getting late... I should go... somewhere." John said quietly. He looked at his watch. "Nearly nine..."
Jim cleared his throat and shook his head.
"No. You... You should stay here until you sober up completely." Jim suggested quietly. "You can kip here on the sofa... Figure out where you'll go in the morning."
John seemed taken aback by the offer and opened his mouth to protest but Jim stood up and headed over to a basket at the end of the sofa and pulled out a spare duvet and pillow, setting them on John's lap. John looked up at Jim with wide and somewhat nervous eyes. Jim's face was the picture of cool control. He seemed completely at ease on the surface, but underneath, something strange and foreign to him was churning. Endearment, sympathy, and a little bit of attraction. John's blue eyes seemed to be boring into him. Jim took a breath.
"Down the hall to the left is the bathroom, and to the right is my room. If you should need anything at all... I'll leave the door open." Jim offered quietly. John set the bedding aside and rose, pulling Jim into an embrace rather suddenly. It was warm and despite the smell of alcohol on John, Jim relaxed into the heat. He wrapped his arms around John in return and patted his back.
"Thank you..." John whispered. Jim swallowed hard and nodded, slowly pulling away.
"You're welcome." he answered, his voice cracking a bit. He was blushing, he could feel how hot his cheeks were. He quickly excused himself and went to bed without another word to John. He stripped down to his pants and crawled into his queen sized bed, under the duvet and closed his eyes tight. This was, by all normal social standards, a weird situation. It brought a strange sense of excitement to Jim. He felt excited and a bit dizzy. It was hard for him to fall asleep, but after a little fidgeting and hearing the television shut off, he was able to do so. It seemed as if he'd only been asleep for minutes before he was drawn into the waking world again. He was sprawled across his bed, and it was dark, but he could feel the presence of another even in his sleep and it bid him awake. He sat up slowly and saw John seated on the edge of his bed. When John noticed him, he scooted closer. John's chest was bare and in the cool light of the moon filtering through Jim's blinds he noticed the puckered scar of a bullet wound on his shoulder. John's throat bobbed with a harsh swallow and he scooted yet again closer so that they were nearly touching.
"I... need something..." John whispered, and Jim nodded as something akin to gravity pulled them together and their lips met in a kiss. Jim's body responded so quickly to the affection he felt like a teenager again. It had been years since he'd kissed anyone, and it didn't stop there. John tugged aside Jim's duvet and exposed his skin to the cool night air. John's lips were soft and insistent against Jim's own and Jim moaned quietly into the kiss as John's hands ran over his long neglected body. John's calloused fingers rubbed teasingly against Jim's nipples as his hands slid downward from his collar to his hips. Jim gasped a little as John thumbed the head of his manhood through his tented pants. He felt a little jolt of fluid spurt from the tip and dampen the fabric as he grew harder yet.
John was quick to finish disrobing Jim, tugging the restraining fabric away and tossing it aside. Jim reached to return the favor but found that John had already disposed of his own undergarments. Jim's hand instead hit the heat of John's half swollen member. John inhaled sharply as Jim's delicate and soft fingers slid down it, his cock twitching in response to the sensation. Jim shivered a little, liking the response. His thoughts on how he might repeat the action better to get a more extreme response were interrupted when John's hand was around him.
Their kiss broke apart as Jim fell like a stone back against his bed and moaned loudly, his hips jerked upward. John chuckled quietly and stroked him slowly, tugging at the hard and sensitive flesh. Jim twitched and shuddered, his cock leaking more fluid. Jim wished John would kiss him again, if only to stifle the undignified sounds coming out of his mouth. Jim soaked in the touch and whimpered when John's hot mouth descended onto his nipple, suckling and nipping lightly. Jim was on the edge in moments, ready to burst, but all at once, John's body seemed to vanish. Jim's eyes snapped open, and he hadn't even realized he'd shut them in the first place. He looked up to see John moving further onto the bed. Jim was panting, sweaty, and curious. John covered Jim's body with his own and their arousal rubbed together sensually. Jim found his hips moving of their own accord. John's hips pushed down against his own and they fell into a rhythm. They were thrusting against one another, growing more lubricated by the fluids spilling from their bodies as well as their sweat and the easier it became to move, the more lost in the pleasure Jim became.
Their lips met in another kiss and Jim could hardly breathe, he breathed hard through his nose and got lost in John's body, his mouth... The smell of their arousal in the air, the hot sticky sweat as they ground together. Jim had not felt this way since he was a young man. It was like being taken for the first time all over again. Jim cried out as his climax took over his whole body, heat pooling in his pelvis and then exploding into every corner of his body, lighting up every single nerve ending like a christmas lights show. He allowed himself to cling to John, his nails digging into the strong flesh of John's back. He felt the hot, sticky release of himself between them, and it was quickly doubled when John spilled over as well.
They parted lips to catch their breath, but Jim didn't let go of John just yet. John went dead weight against him and Jim basked in the warmth and glow of it all.
"Wow..." Jim said finally, still trying to gain control of his breathing. John chuckled softly, and pushed himself up so he could look down at Jim.
"I just realized... You never introduced yourself." John's voice was ragged and it gave Jim goose bumps.
"Hello, my name is Jim. And I'm not really an alcoholic." Jim replied with a little grin. John leaned in and rested his forehead against the other man's. He captured Jim's lips in a tender kiss, and then slowly broke away...
"Hello, Jim."
Don't forget to review!