Hello all! Hope you've enjoyed the fic thus-far. I know we're still at the starting gate but, I'm hoping to keep everyone interested and on the edge of their seats! I'd like to say thank you to my reviewers. You guys are awesome. Without you I'd be lost!

This chapter sort of poured out of me pretty quickly and I'm very pleased with it. I hope you all enjoy. I've had a blast writing! Don't forget to let me know what you think!

The Visage of War

Chapter Two

This Relationship is Dysfunctional, at Best!

John's heart raced as he headed back to Baker Street. His phones were in opposite pockets, but his old one felt like it was suddenly a lead brick in his trousers. The weight of it terrified him. He was struggling with whether or not he should tell Sherlock. He didn't particularly want to. He would then have to explain to his flat mate exactly why he'd kept it a secret for all these months. And if John was really going to be honest with himself about that, he wasn't really sure what all of his motivations to do so were. Mostly he didn't want to give Sherlock any sort of headway into finding Jim. Now it would seem that Jim had announced his presence wholeheartedly and in the showiest way he could have mustered. Jim was as subtle as the explosions he liked to set off.

John thought back to watching Jim work and sighed heavily. Jim took his place in the world very seriously. He spent his time reading letters, giving orders, and planning elaborate crimes. Whenever Sherlock had asked John if he remembered anything at all about Jim's operations, John had quietly denied having really been a part of them. It wasn't true, though. John had sat beside him in their bed and listened to Jim read requests aloud from potential clients. Jim had even bounced ideas off John on more than one occasion. John felt a twinge of guilt for enjoying such a thing.

The car stopped in front of his flat and the door opened for him, startling him out of his thoughts. He stepped out and noted that the Yard was already here. He let out a low groan and headed begrudgingly up the steps. He could hear Greg and Sherlock having a heated conversation in the living room and he dreaded having to enter it. As soon as he did, Sherlock stepped around Greg, cutting him off mid sentence to advance on John like a lion pouncing on a spooked gazelle.

The consulting detective sniffed the air around John and grabbed his left hand, examining it for a moment, and then spun the doctor around. He managed to pluck a long, chestnut hair off the back of his coat.

"Irene Adler." Sherlock hissed, accusingly. John sighed. He should have known Sherlock would have been able to tell what was up.

"We'll discuss this later..." Sherlock added, turning back to Greg, who appeared to be growing impatient. Greg had a few photographs in his hand and extended them to Sherlock when Sherlock motioned for them. Sherlock shoved the pictures into John's hands. John looked down upon a photograph of the case for the crown jewels, scrawled on it were the words "Get Sherlock"... And then John's heart nearly stopped altogether when he looked upon the visage of Jim Moriarty, fire hydrant raised to smash the glass.

He looked gaunt, underfed, and crazed. It was strange how John's heartstrings tugged in his chest at the sight. He felt the sudden urge to try and care for him. He was dressed down in a t-shirt and slacks, and it was so strange to look at. Jim had always dressed so classy around him. It was like looking at an estranged love from a past life. Sherlock watched John's face carefully, and John was aware of what Sherlock was doing. He was trying to deduce exactly what was taking place in not only John's head, but his heart as well. John cleared his throat.

"Get Sherlock...?" John announced curiously, looking past Sherlock, who was still examining him closely, and met Greg's gaze. Greg nodded and frowned at the back of Sherlock's head.

"Apparently so. He is our resident expert on the man, I suppose. I guess he wants to have some sort of confrontation with Sherlock, and this time in the public eye." Greg explained calmly. "He put on the crown jewels and waited for us to arrest him. Pretty much turned himself in."

Sherlock growled and spun around, pacing toward the window.

"Yes, but why? What is he trying to do?" Sherlock growled. John gave a little nervous half chuckle.

"Well it's obvious he's making a power play, Sherlock. He wouldn't turn himself in if he wasn't sure he'd get away with all this. You shouldn't buy into it." John offered, immediately regretting saying anything about it. Sherlock rounded on him with narrowed eyes.

"Yes, well, I suppose you'd know far better how his mind works than I, right John?" Sherlock snapped, his words stinging like a sharp strike from a whip. John tossed the pictures aside and headed out of the room, going up to his own bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him. Greg huffed a little and looked at Sherlock accusingly, but Sherlock was gazing out the window again, acting as if nothing had happened.

"I'll appear at his trial." Sherlock said tightly. Greg folded his arms across his chest and stared at Sherlock for a moment longer, before turning to leave.

"All right then..." Greg said calmly, picking up the photographs and heading for the stairs. "We'll send you a police escort the day of the trial."

Greg headed out the door, but as he did, he pulled out his phone and placed a call to John. John was reluctant to answer. He was sat on his bed, brooding. On his nightstand the two phones sat. He sighed and picked up the one that was ringing and answered.

"Yes, Detective Inspector?" John answered in a clipped tone.

"Moriarty wants to see you. He requested that you were informed of this. I know it might not be easy to hear this considering what he put you through. But... Should... Should you decide you want to, just... Give me a call and I'll take you." Greg explained tensely on the other end of the line. John's whole body stiffened and he took a shaky breath.

"Yeah. I... Can I go tomorrow morning?" John asked quietly. Greg sighed softly and John heard him swallow uncomfortably.

"Yes. That'll be fine. I'll come for you around nine. Be ready." Greg replied. John exhaled slowly, closing his eyes. See you soon. John wasn't sure what he hoped to accomplish by doing this. He felt like he was betraying Sherlock.

"All right..." John said softly. "See you then."

Greg hung up, and John set his phone aside. He could feel worry seeping into his bones, and many assaulting pangs of guilt and regret were only adding to the all over ache John was beginning to feel.

Month's he'd spent trying to get better all went out the window in mere hours and John couldn't help it. He collapsed onto his bed in a heap, closing his eyes as he curled up and took in the smell of Sherlock's shampoo on his pillow. They'd slept together in this bed last night. They'd held each other in quite companionship, and now... Now that simple gesture seemed so tiny and trivial. Months he'd tried to build a functioning relationship that never progressed. Sherlock would not let it. And now John was thinking of his memories of Jim...

John stepped out of the car and onto the curb, pulling his coat tighter around him in the chilly night air. An unusual dusting of snow was slowly falling from the sky. He looked at the little restaurant and assumed Jim wouldn't mind if he headed inside without him. He stepped over the threshold of the bistro and into the building, surprised to find the entire place empty, the lighting low, and only one table set. John's first reaction was to assume the place was closed, but then, a host approached him from the other side of the room.

"Mister Moriarty?" he inquired. John nodded dumbly. The gentleman beamed at him. "Right this way. Your husband called ahead to tell you he was running a bit late and to order whatever you like."

John followed behind the host and took a seat, in awe of the whole situation. He saw the place was set with two candles, and was so simple and yet, incredibly romantic. His heart fluttered a little and he smiled warmly, taking the menu from the host. Jim had really outdone himself this time...

John forced himself to push the memory aside and he hefted a sigh, trying to think of a warm and fuzzy memory he had with Sherlock. To his chagrin, all he could think of were rejected advances, insults to his intelligence, and a muttered explanation; 'I still do, you understand that John. No use wearing out the words.'

John went dead weight against the mattress and didn't bother moving when he heard his bedroom door open. The sound of it clicking shut didn't call him to turn either. It wasn't until Sherlock had crawled onto the bed beside him that John even acknowledged his presence. John scooted closer to the wall to be more accommodating to Sherlock. He did so wordlessly, and kept his back to the other man. Sherlock's forehead was pressed to the back of his skull in a gentle and personal form of affection.

"You're mad at me." Sherlock stated lowly, his breath ghosting across John's neck. John rolled his eyes and snorted.

"Bloody right I am." John curled in on himself tighter and pulled his head away from Sherlock. Sherlock crossed the small distance, his nose now at the nape of John's neck as he curled himself around the ex army doctor. John squirmed a little but soon gave up trying to escape Sherlock.

"Why?"

John gritted his teeth as every reason he'd ever been angry with Sherlock flew through his head. He forced himself to cool down and as calmly as he could, replied:

"Many reasons, Sherlock."

Sherlock sighed against the back of John's neck and John shivered a little at the tickling sensation. Sherlock wrapped an arm around John's belly and pulled them closer together.

"List them." Sherlock requested quietly. John gave a defeated groan and shook his head.

"Sherlock..." he began to protest...

"Just... Do it, John." Sherlock insisted. John took a breath.

"You know, we have been together for half a year now and..." John began, "We've never been... intimate... You hardly tell me you love me. You treat me like an idiot... still. Not to mention this obsession with Jim has gone on way too far! I don't want tangled up in that mess anymore... He... What he did to me was unforgivable..."

John's voice wavered as he spoke about Jim, and there was a long silence that followed his little confession. John was startled when suddenly, Sherlock was up off the bed. John heard the rustle of fabric and quickly turned around to see Sherlock popping open the buttons on his shirt. John sat up.

"What on earth are you doing?" John asked, wiping a hand over his face. Sherlock threw his shirt aside and shucked out of his shoes as he crawled back onto the bed. He straddled John's waist on his knees and took John's head into his hands.

"Sherlock now is not the time!" John protested, but he was silenced as Sherlock pressed John's head against his chest.

"I've been hesitant, John..." Sherlock whispered, running his fingers through John's hair and down the back of his neck. John sighed and closed his eyes, ignoring the awkwardness of this situation to his fullest. "I've been waiting to become intimate with you because I did not wish to take advantage of you on the... hm... Rebound. I was waiting for you to purge Moriarty from your life and to commit to me one hundred percent. But I suppose waiting to be intimate for that may have stalled the entire process of expelling him from your heart and mind. I only wished for what was best for us."

"Well bloody communicate that you prat! You can't just formulate ideas and plans for us without including me. A relationship is supposed to be a partnership and we both have to work together to- Oh for goodness sake, get off me and put your shirt on!"

John pushed Sherlock away, but Sherlock pushed back, flattening John against the bed. John opened his mouth to protest, but Sherlock's hips rolled down against his and then Sherlock's lips pressed down against his mouth. He was quickly silenced. His hands moved to grab Sherlock's hips as they kissed. It was heated, and admittedly, still a bit angry. But it made John groan in pleasure. He let Sherlock kiss him until they were dizzy from lack of oxygen. John shoved Sherlock up off of him and panted for breath, looking at him with wide eyes.

"Not... Not now Sherlock..." John insisted quietly. "I... I want to do this... But not now. Let-Lets get through the trial... And when we're on the other side of this whole... Moriarty business... We'll talk..."

Sherlock slowly backed off of John and took a deep breath, avoiding John's eyes.

"Right. Fine." Sherlock agreed hastily, stooping to pick up his shirt. He slipped it back on and John felt immediately horrible for rejecting Sherlock's advances. He knew that Sherlock had been waiting for the betterment of their relationship, but John knew he had to stand firm right now. He rose from the bed and crossed to Sherlock, buttoning the shirt for him.

"I love you, Sherlock Holmes. You're infuriating and confusing, but I love you. We will make this work." John assured him quietly. Sherlock leaned in and pecked John's lips affectionately.

"And I love you." he whispered. John smiled weakly and nodded, patting his chest.

"Good."

Sherlock straightened and took a step back, clearing his throat.

"Oh, and... How does Thai sound for dinner?" he asked. John rolled his eyes and pushed past Sherlock.

"Sounds fine." he grumbled. "I suppose you want me to go get it?"

Sherlock glanced back, watching John headed to his closet to get his coat.

"Would you?" he asked, his eyes catching the sight of John's phone... No... Phones. "You know they don't really care for me there."

He immediately recognized John's old phone. He'd held it plenty of times before to know it just by a glance. He'd not seen that phone since John returned from his last visit with Moriarty. He'd deduced that Moriarty had likely stolen it off him and used it in his escape plan. Moriarty must have returned it to him... Why would John keep it... And keep it secret from me...? He stepped closer, but stopped short as John turned toward him.

"Fine. I figure you want the usual?" John asked. Sherlock nodded, quickly sweeping out the door.

"Yes! That would be fine!" he called, not wanting John to know he'd noticed the extra phone sitting out. John grimaced at Sherlock's sudden exit and snatched up his phones on his way down the stairs and out the door.

"Be back in a bit!" he shouted, not waiting for a reply before he was out the door.

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