It started with a single red rose. John came home from the surgery, an entire day of runny noses and flu shots, looking to crash into bed and sleep for a week. But when he got to his room, a single red rose was resting on his pillow with the thorns still on. John had no doubt in his mind whom it was from. He delicately clasped it between two fingers and then carried it downstairs. He turned on the garbage disposal and chucked the flower in, listening to the satisfying crunch it made getting obliterated.

The gifts kept on coming, each one more expensive and outlandish than the last. And yet John heard nothing from the Consulting Criminal directly. There were no more texts, no more calls and John had been preparing himself for the eventual kidnapping. But all that came were more presents that John discarded of as quickly as possible.

However it seemed the more he threw them away, the more they came. Everything John put in the rubbish bin was replaced ten-fold. Jim should have just burned his money for all the good it was doing him. John was not a man to be bought, he thought Jim would have known that.

"Isn't that –" Sherlock said when they entered 221B after going out for food.

"Don't ask." John responded as they walked around a priceless Grecian statue that was supposed to be in the Louvre. John had no idea how Jim had pulled that off but after so thoroughly faking his own death, John wasn't about to underestimate Jim.

John turned on the news for some background noise while he got his afternoon tea started. He had just put the kettle on the boil and rummage around for some biscuits when something being said in the other room got his attention. He hurried into the sitting room in time to see the news story. At some point Sherlock had appeared as well and they stood together watching.

"Panic in London over the crime of the century. One man, identified as James Moriarty has broken into the Tower of London and attempted to steal the Crown Jewels."

"He wouldn't." John shook his head, staring at the telly in disbelief.

"He would." Sherlock poined to the screen just as Jim was being pushed into a police car.

"Jesus Christ, what is he thinking?" John noticed the tiniest smirk on Jim's face before he disappeared into the vehicle.

John got a call from Lestrade the next morning telling him that Jim wanted to speak with him. Reluctantly, John got his coat and went down the New Scotland Yard. Jim was being held in one of the cells, his hands and feet cuffed together to keep him from escaping. He had his head bowed, his body obscured by the shadows as John made his way over.

"Jim, what the hell are you doing?" John hissed as he pressed up against the bars of the cell.

"You came." Jim smiled sweetly and got to his feet. "I wasn't sure you would."

"I don't see how I had a choice. Lestrade said you're refusing to speak to the police."

"I don't waste my time talking to idiots." Jim sniffed loftily. "I really don't see how Sherlock stands it."

"Then why are you talking to me?"

"Oh, don't put yourself down like that Johnny. Low self-esteem is such an unattractive quality." Jim scolded and stepped out of the shadows.

"How is it you managed to steal from the Louvre but you can't break into the Tower of London without getting caught?" John asked something he'd been wondering ever since he'd seen Jim get arrested.

"Because he wanted to get caught."

Jim and John both turned to see Sherlock making his way towards them. "Goodness Johnny, does he follow you everywhere?"

"He's going to try and persuade you. It's all an act." Sherlock proceeded, ignoring Moriarty's jibes.

"Oh Sherlock darling, I forgot how quick you can be. Have you missed this as much as I have?" Moriarty asked, turning his head from side to side like some kind of deadly snake. "He's right, of course."

"How does your being in prison persuade me to do anything?" John asked, looking between the two genuises for an answer.

"It's quite simple. I want to see you. I didn't come back from the dead just to have you ignore me. I'm here to negotiate for time."

"And why would I give you any of mine?"

"Because if you don't, I'll go to prison for a long, long time. You wouldn't want that, now would you Johnny?" Jim made his large brown eyes as innocent looking as possible.

"Why wouldn't he?" Sherlock said defensively.

"That's true, maybe the best place for someone like me is behind bars. After all, I've been very naughty, haven't I? And I seem to remember John promising me conjugal visits." Jim smirked, wrapping his hand around the bar and moving it up and down suggestively.

"That was when you were dying." John spat out.

"Oh, I'm hurt to think you would break a promise simply because I managed to survive Sherlock and big brother trying to kill me."

"You're not getting John." Sherlock stepped between them, partially hiding John from view.

"You forget, I've already had John." Jim giggled as Sherlock's face turned red with anger.

"What is it you want?" John interrupted from behind Sherlock.

"I want time with you. That's all. Maybe you were telling the truth and you don't want to see me ever again. If you were serious about that, then I'll go to prison and you can live out the rest of your life knowing that the only reason I'm there is because I loved you too much. But, if you find that there is even the tiniest bit of you that doesn't want me locked up for possibly the rest of my life, I'll get myself out of this."

"How will you know which decision I've made?"

"If you do want to see me again, come to my trial and I'll know. If you don't, stay at home and that will be that."

"You wouldn't gamble your whole future on this." Sherlock said knowingly.

"You underestimate the power of love." Jim said jokingly.

"Why are you doing this?" John asked, wondering what kind of a game Moriarty was playing.

"Sorry, not telling." Jim mimed locking his lips and throwing away the key. "But I will tell you this, I'm playing to win."

John sighed and turned to go, Sherlock falling in step with him. They walked away listening as Jim sang from his cell. "You know it's truuuue, everything I doooo, I do it for yooooou."

John went to the trial. He couldn't have stayed home even if he'd wanted to. Part of it was just natural curiostiy of how Jim was going to get himself off the charges. After all he'd been caught red handed. The other part was him knowing the guilt he would feel if Jim went away just because of him. How Jim had managed to prey on John's sense of morality, John would never know.

He sat up in the stands and watched as the trial went on. In the middle of it, Jim turned around and grinned triumphantly at John. John kept his face stoic, not returning the smile. John had come to the trial yes, but it didn't mean what he believed Jim thought it did. It didn't mean they were getting back together. All it meant that John was giving Jim time.

John had no idea how Jim had done it, but he had been cleared of all charges. John was on the phone to Sherlock, telling him of the outcome when he was grabbed and hauled into an alley.

"Sorry, Johnny can't talk right now, he's busy." Jim said into the phone before ringing off with Sherlock.

"Fucking hell Jim, what are you doing?" John shoved him away.

"You came to the trial." Jim moved forward, his intent clear but John put up a hand to stop him, his hand on his chest to keep their distance.

"You asked for time and I gave it to you. What you do with it is up to you. But my showing up today was not a prerequisit for this to happen." John gestured between the two of them.

"Tease." Jim grabbed John's wrist and surged him forward. "This isn't over Johnny, not even close."

He bit him playfully on the nose and then let go of his wrist. He placed his hands in his pockets as he strolled out of the alley, whistling as he went.

John was drunk, so very, very, very drunk. He'd gone out with Stamford in an effort to get out of his flat that was overflowing with gifts. He hadn't poured his heart out of the Mike, although he had wanted to. There was no easy explanation for Jim and he couldn't bitch about it without going into the whole story. And John found that whole bit of his life quite embarrassing.

To be taken in by Jim, fucked six ways from Sunday and then fooled made John feel like an idiot. Now with all the presents, it felt like Jim was paying him for services rendered. Well, if the price tag on some of those presents was any indication, John had been quite the whore.

John stumbled blindly into the alley, tripping over his own feet and almost crashing face first into the wall. Instead he found himself in the arms of a large black blob, or at least that's what it looked like to his blurry vision.

"Fanks mrt." John mumbled what was supposed to be "thanks mate."

"I couldn't let you ruin your pretty face, now could I?" Jim purred into John's ear.

"What're you doing ere?" John slurred, trying to stand on his own feet but being wholly unsuccessful at it.

"I've been following you." Jim answered without apology.

"Gonna kidnrp me?" John asked, the ground swaying underneath him.

"Only a little." Jim grinned and then everything went black.

John could feel his head pounding before he even opened his eyes. He groaned in pain and turned over, burying himself under the covers. The bed was warm and the covers soft. John knew instantly it wasn't his bed but couldn't recall how he'd gotten here or what he'd done the night before.

He could smell eggs and coffee coming from the other room, so somehow he managed to roll out of bed to investigate. Once he got some food in his stomach, he might feel a little less like death. There was a dressing gown hanging off the door and John was only in his pants so he grabbed it without thinking.

He kept one hand on the wall to steady himself as he went towards the aroma wafting from the kitchen. His footsteps were heavy since too much movement made his head swim.

John would have recognized Jim from any angle so it wasn't much of a shock when his ex-lover turned around and smiled at him. John didn't have it in him to say anything, so he went to the breakfast bar and sat, putting his head on the counter. Wordlessly, Jim pushed a cup of coffee towards him and John groaned in thanks.

Next came water, pills and finally some breakfast. John took it all without complaint and Jim didn't try to get him to talk, which John was thankful for. The lights in the kitchen were dimmed, the curtains closed to keep John's eyes from exploding out of their sockets. It seemed like Jim had thought of everything.

"Where are my clothes?" John croaked when he felt a bit more like himself.

"You threw up on them." Jim answered, making a face of disgust from the memory. "I sent them out to be cleaned."

"Did anything happen between us last night?" John asked and Jim raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"After you'd almost thrown up on me? Please." Jim rolled his eyes and stabbed at his eggs violently with his fork. "Your virtue is intact."

John snorted at that. "Ever since your trial, I've been expecting something like this to happen. I've been trying to avoid being kidnapped."

"Oh yes this." Jim reached into his pocket and pulled out John's pocketknife. "You went for it last night and nearly stabbed yourself in the leg. I thought it best to take it away from you. Doesn't do you much good if you're blind drunk."

"Can I have it back please?" John held his hand out towards Jim.

Jim considered for a moment. "Are you going to stab me with it?"

"After you made me breakfast, that wouldn't be very polite." John grinned and felt relieved when Jim handed it over.

"Neither is throwing out someone's presents." Jim scowled and slumped in his seat, looking very much like he was pouting.

"Oh right." John rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a bit sheepish. He had no idea how to behave around Jim anymore. They'd been enemies, then lovers, then something more and now John had no idea what they were. But that feeling was still there, it had never really gone away, not even in death. "About that, I would really appreciate it if you would knock it off. It's not helping your cause anyway so you might as well save your money. Besides, the last time you tried to get me something you almost landed in jail."

"And what would help my cause?" Jim asked, spearing an egg and bringing it to his mouth.

"I don't know." John answered honestly. He couldn't deny the chemistry between them and he wouldn't let himself be taken in again. It seemed they had reached some sort of stalemate.

"If you would just let me explain –"

"No." John cut him off, narrowing his eyes. "It won't change a single thing, so why bother?"

"It wasn't some whim. There was a reason."

"And I told you I don't want to know."

"Why?" Jim inquired with aggravation.

"Because then I'll have to forgive you." John shouted, slamming his coffee cup onto the counter. He took several deep breaths and pushed the cup out of his reach before he broke it. "I know you Jim. You'll explain it just right and say exactly the right thing, what I want to hear. I'll have no choice but to forgive you and I'm not ready to stop being angry with you."

The stared at each other for a moment until Jim turned his face away. "Fine." He shrugged, feigning indifference.

"I should probably get home." John collected his plates and put them in the sink. He thought about washing them himself but that would take longer than he wanted to spend in Jim's presence. He could already feel his anger lessening the more time he spent with his ex-lover, being replaced with something like relief that Jim wasn't really gone forever. In spite of himself, John had missed him.

"I'll go see if your clothes are dry." John kept his back to Jim as the criminal mastermind pushed his chair back and went towards the front door.

John took the opportunity to look around. It wasn't the same flat, the one they had used before, but it was similar. John wouldn't put it past Jim to have a new flat fashioned after the old one. After all, he couldn't go back since the cops knew about his old safe house. But the layout of the place was extremely familiar. The style of the furniture was different

John went back into the bedroom and slipped off the dressing gown, hanging it back up on the door where he'd found it. Surprisingly, the room wasn't chilly even with John in so little clothing. Of course with Jim, everything had to be perfect. The idea of it made John smile.

"Fresh and no longer smelling of vomit…" Jim trailed off when he walked into the room and saw John in nothing but his pants. Suddenly the room was filled with tension, easily broken if one of them would just cross the room to the other. John's body was screaming at him to go to Jim, it would be so easy to give in. His body craved to touch someone and have them touch back.

He watched Jim's adam's apple bob as he swallowed hard. Jim dropped John's clothes in a heap on the floor and strode towards him with a look of determination. John's fight or flight response never even kicked in as Jim's lips captured his. The idea of refusing didn't even cross his mind as Jim's thin frame pressed against his. It had been too long, too bloody long and John wanted. It was as simple as that.

He had been expecting the kiss to be insistent, urgent and passionate. Instead it was just a simple press of lips against lips, almost like an offering. It was unlike Moriarty to be so considerate, not to just take what he wanted. It took John a moment to figure out why he was behaving so strangely. He's not sure if I want this John thought with astonishment. It seemed like he better derail it before things got too deep.

He gently broke away but stayed close. "Jim, I –"

"You should go."

"Sorry, what?" John asked, thrown off balance for a moment.

"I don't think you should be here." Jim pulled away and started to pick John's clothes up off the floor. When he had gathered them back into his arms, he pushed them rather forcefully into John's.

"Why not?"

"You have no intention of rekindling what we had. You won't let me apologize or explain, so I think it's best you leave before I do something I'll regret."

"Where did all this come from?" John stared at Moriarty in confusion, not moving to put on his clothes.

"I'm not going to force myself on you."

"Is that what you think was happening just now?"

Jim ignored him and pressed on. "And what is the alternative? I kidnap you, you deny me, we do it all over again. It sounds tedious so I'm skipping to the part where I give up."

"Why now? Why after we've kissed?" John demanded angrily.

"It was just a kiss." Jim said nonchalantly. "Besides, I'm a brilliant business man. I know when to cut my losses."

"Alright, good. If that's what you want. Great, just perfect." John tried his best to pretend this was what he wanted. He began stabbing his limbs into his clothes, putting them on rather violently. Jim watched him get dressed silently and when he pushed past Moriarty to get to the door, the consulting criminal followed him.

When they got to the front door, Jim attacked, pushing John up against the wood and sucking at his neck. John blinked in confusion for a few moments until the pleasure overtook his confusion and he moaned. Jim grabbed his wrists and held them on either side of his head, pinning him against the door as he marked his neck.

When he was satisfied, Jim pulled back and admired the first faint traces of a bruise on John's neck, running over the mark with just a brush of his fingertips. "Something to remember me by." Jim told him softly.

"One thing you'll never be Jim is forgettable." John smiled gently.

"Even so, better safe and all that."

"Right." John nodded as Jim stepped back and allowed him room to leave. John adjusted his clothes from where they had gotten rumpled by Jim's body and then opened the door. He felt strange as he walked through it, like it the way they were leaving things was wrong. As the door closed behind him, a wave of overwhelming dread washed over him. What if he never saw Jim again? Suddenly the idea of it felt…unbearable. He'd spent the last nine months wishing Jim were still alive and now that it had actually happened he was just going to walk away? No, screw that.

John let the door fling open as he reentered the flat, banging loudly against the wall. Jim had only made it a few steps in the front hallway so it wasn't difficult for John to close the space between them. He grabbed Jim by the shoulders and shoved him roughly against the wall, The kiss that followed was hard and insistent, like John was fighting a war and gaining ground quickly.

"You spend millions of pounds buying my presents, almost get yourself locked up and now you're suddenly giving up, just like that?" John growled and grabbed Jim by the hair, wrenching his head back and biting his neck. "I don't think so."

"Merely attempting to be sensible."

"Sensible? You?" John scoffed at the idea.

"You didn't appreciate any of my efforts or my gifts." Jim pouted and the gasped as John pulled his shirt collar down and licked the hollow of his throat.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do with a ten ton statue anyway?" John asked, his hand snaking down Jim's body until it cupped him through his trousers. He kept his hand still, making Jim work for it, rutting against his hand. "I wanted an apology Jim, not meaningless items with large price tags."

"You refused to speak to me." Jim argued through his whimpering.

"Like that's ever stopped you before." John countered. "You hardly tried at all and now you've just called it quits and…" Slowly a nagging idea in the back of his mind became a large idea at the front of his mind as something dawned on him. "You played me, you bastard."

Jim chuckled mischievously. "Duh." He replied as if it were obvious. "I told you, I came back for you, I wasn't about to give up so easily. I was compelling you to act, you're so fucking stubborn."

"And you're a fucking wanker."

"You wouldn't want me any other way."

"I don't want you now." John said with disinterest despite all evidence to the contrary.

Jim simply licked his lips and grinned. "Liar."

John did bother answering. "Strip." He ordered in as serious a tone as he could. He noticed a tiny shiver go through Jim before he started to obey. John watched silently, his hands placed behind his back, while Jim undressed. The air was thick with intensity as Jim slowly removed his clothes, bit by bit with no help from John. John, in his infinite patience, stayed completely still.

When every last stitch of clothing was gone, John finally spoke again. "Get on your knees."

Jim's prick twitched with interest and he slowly knelt in front of John, knowing all too well what came next. John's hands were still behind his back so Jim reached forward and began undoing John's trousers. He pushed John's shirt up a bit and kissed his stomach while he worked to get John's cock out.

Finally successful at striping John to the waist, Jim buried his face against John's crotch and inhaled deeply. Gripping the base, he ran his cheek along the side of John's prick until it reached his lips. He parted them ever so slightly so the tip could rest between them and gave John one long stroke. Instantly he felt precome dribble into his mouth as John groaned above him.

He gave it a few more strokes and then grabbed the base again, guiding it into his mouth. He gave a few quickly licks to the frenulum while his hand slid up John's body, under his shirt, to thumb his nipple. He swallowed him halfway down and then back up while John's back arched and he gripped Jim's hair.

Jim gave a few hard sucks and then pulled off completely. "Nine months apart, is this really how you want it to go?" he asked, gazing up at John.

"Well I want you to stop talking, this seems like a solution."

Jim glared at him, pinching his nipple hard. Once John had given a yelp of pain, Jim began to suck him again.

"Oh don't look so put out, I know how much you love this." John chastised as he braced himself against the wall and thrust his hips ever so slightly, pushing further into Jim's mouth. Jim continued to toy with John's nipples while his other hand cupped his balls, rolling them against his palm. John gasped and his legs began to shake with the effort of remaining standing. "Okay, stop."

John pushed off the wall and stood in the middle of the hallway trying to catch his breath. "Go to the bedroom and wait for me."

Jim looked for a moment like he was going to argue, but instead he rose gracefully to his feet and returned to his room. He flopped down on the sheets and felt a bit triumphant that he had gotten John so easily. Of course it helped that he knew exactly what buttons to press.

His cock was hard and straining from neglect. He stroked himself slowly, not wanting to get too worked up before John got back. Speaking of, he seemed to be taking his sweet time with whatever he was doing. Jim grew impatient and almost nervous with anticipation. What was John doing?

A niggling voice in the back of his head told him he had been played as well. John could have gotten him all worked up and then simply left. He hadn't heard the front door open or shut but that wasn't indicative of anything. John knew how to be stealthy.

Jim was about to go and check when John appeared in the doorway. Jim nearly breathed a sigh of relief but kept it in. He didn't want John to know he had been worried. "You took your time." He said coolly.

"Sorry to keep you waiting." John strode over to the bed and crawled over Jim.

"No you're not."

"You're right, I'm not. But I think you'll find it was worth the wait."

"You always are."

Their lips met, tongues gliding together effortlessly, giving and taking like some kind of dance. While John was distracting Jim with his tongue, he wrapped his hand around Jim's prick and sunk down on it. Jim's eyes widened in surprise as his cock slid inside John.

John started to ride him, languidly pushing up and then grinding back down. "Oh fuck." John moaned, his mouth open as he threw his head back. "Oh fuck, oh god. It's been way too long since someone fucked me."

"You mean Sherlock hasn't –"

"No." John cut him off quickly.

"Really?"

"I meant no, I'm not talking about my sex life with Sherlock while we're currently fucking." John clarified, placing one hand on Jim's chest and the other on his leg to help with leverage.

Jim took John's hand and moved it up to his throat. John got the idea and pressed down on Jim's windpipe just enough to make breathing difficult. Jim's eyes rolled back in his head with ecstasy while John picked up the pace and rode him harder. Jim began thrusting his hips up, feeling so close to his orgasm he could taste it.

He wrapped his hand around John's cock and began pumping it, letting him fuck his fist. "Oh fuck yes." John moaned, his movements becoming erratic as his orgasm hit and his come spurted out of his cock. His grip on Jim's throat tightened, making Jim follow him over the edge.

John dropped heavily onto Jim, going boneless on top of him. Jim managed to nudge John's face so their lips could meet as they kissed slowly. Together they turned onto their sides, still wrapped up in each other.

"God, I love you." Jim breathed against John's lips.

Jim's cheek stung from the slap John had just administered. He rubbed it gently, scowling at John.

"You don't get to say that to me. Not after what you did." John snarled and looked ready to hit him again.

"If you would only let me tell you why –"

"And I told you I don't want to know. You left me, plain and simple."

"No it isn't that simple."

"You could have told me what was going on back then but you didn't. We could have figured something out together. Instead you. Left. Me." John said through gritted teeth and tried to disentangle himself from Jim but Jim wouldn't let him go.

"I had to."

"No you didn't."

Jim rolled them over so he was on top and pinned John to the bed. "Do you think you were the only one who was hurt? Do you think leaving you wasn't like tearing out my own fucking heart? I had to." Jim repeated, hoping the words might finally sink in. "A year. I was supposed to be gone a year and I couldn't even manage that. I had to stop watching you on the CCTV because it was fucking agony. Do you realize how easy it is to run a criminal organization when everyone thinks you're dead? My life would be so much simpler if I had just stayed away."

"Then why didn't you?"

"Because you have a piece of me, John Watson and without you I can never have one iota of happiness. I need to be with you."

"Get off of me." John shouted and Jim released him. John didn't go far, sitting on the edge of the bed with his back to Jim. "I don't want to be here. I hate myself for giving in, for wanting this, maybe even needing it. Needing you. Somtimes I don't know which is worse, loving you or hating you. But no matter how much I tell myself to, I can't stay away."

"It's not that surprising." Jim scooted across the bed and wrapped his arms around John from behind, resting his cheek on John's scarred shoulder.

"Isn't it?"

"No." Jim gave him a light squeeze. "Because I have a piece of you too."