At long last, the much-sought-after chapter is here! Since I am posting this part the same day as Chapter 2.5 and this chapter is loooooong, I probably will not post another chapter for a few days. Just to let you stew. Sorry, but I can't type fast enough or have enough time to write as much as uber-amazing fanfic writers, and I am sorry for that. I really and truly adore writing in all these different voices. Thank you to all who have read my story, reviewed, or followed it. Please tell me what you think!

Note: I do not own any of the characters in this story. I have changed some of their personalities and ages for my purposes. Basically, I still own nothing. Except for a pair of Sherlock shoes, which I actually got on Etsy... but now I am rambling.

Warning: This is where we get into some of the more steamy stuff.

Chapter 3: Jim and Moriarty, Love and War

Sherlock

I have been "friends" (that is John's word for it, mine is "companions") with John Watson for twenty-nine months, nine days, ten hours, thirty-one minutes, and two seconds as of now. We are outside for recess (they still make me go even though it means I miss part of Chemistry) and I am doing my hydrochloric acid and water experiment on the lawn. This is my earliest memory of when I first saw Him. Not god, but the boy. JM. Moriarty.

He was on the other side of the playground. Just standing there, observing John and I. So I observed him right back. "Now, John, you cannot see the hydrochloric acid anymore, can you?" John shook his head no. "Good. This is because the water molecules break the hydrogen and chlorine apart to create ions and then surround those ions with the opposite charge." John just looked confused. "You'll learn about it in tertiary, John." His face then cleared of confusion and John smiled up at me. But I wasn't looking at my dear John. I was looking at the mystery boy. There was only one person I knew who would know this mystery boy's name. And he was standing right beside me. "Say, John, do you know who that new fellow is?" I ask him, trying to act cool and uninterested and failing miserably.

"His name is Jim. Jim Moran1, or something like that. Why, do you fancy him?" John teased. And he would continue to tease, because he thought that I wasn't attracted to girls. But I was, I just didn't see the logic in pursuing them as John was so oft to do.2 Another reason I didn't pursue girls was because I was only really attracted to one person, one person only. And that person didn't even really know it. John. My heart belonged and still belongs to John H. Watson (I am still trying to uncover the puzzle of his middle name).

But it wasn't like I could tell him that or anything. I mean, we are only ten years old (almost ten and a half, but whatever), not old enough to be thinking about love. So I responded to John's quip with a nice little "Yeah.' Let John stew on that. "Yeah, I do like him. In fact, he has a very appealing face." And he did. His face was almost like mine, sharp with many dips and hollows and crevices. But Jim's face was softer somehow. His hair was a light brown and sort of waved to the side. By looking at his height and bone development, I would estimate him to be eleven years old. And even from a great distance, I could feel his sharp wit and mind, calling to me. So I returned it with my own call. And I walked over to where he was standing…

"Hello. My name is Sherlock. You're new here, and the reason you are here is… (I pause to form a full analysis. 4.53 seconds. Extreme ADHD, extreme OCD, extreme phobia, extreme depression, dementia, MID, schizophrenia, autism, Asperger's, narcolepsy…) …because…ah…you are a sociopath. How fitting. I am, too. A highly-functioning one. Welcome to Saint Dymphna, Jim…" I trail off, fishing for a last name. It's so nice to shed that itchy skin I must wear around John. I can't be this direct or forward with him, it would scare him off. But Jim…there was something different about Jim. I know I had told John that I was attracted to him (sort of), but now I actually was starting to become attracted to him.

"Moriarty. Jim Moriarty. I also detect a hint of Asperger's in there, if I am not mistaken3. And so I get to meet the great Sherlock Holmes. This shall be the most interesting of schools. I am guessing you are already most of your way through secondary school and doing some tertiary classes. Perhaps we shall have some classes together," he responded, quite loudly if I might say. But then he leaned forward and whispered, "See you on the battle field." And he walked away.

There was a sudden sick feeling in my stomach. Because I knew. I knew that since we were both sociopaths, the flutter in my stomach would soon turn to stones. We are both too clever, too smart to not fall into this trap, this contest trap, to see who was better. I slipped my hand into my pocket and felt a slip of paper. Pulling it out, I read:

Just in case you were wondering, I think that you are cute, too. I know you didn't say you thought I was cute out loud, but I know you were thinking it. Don't tell John that. Actually, don't tell John about anything between us. He unconsciously checks out your butt from time to time, you know. I have to say, it is pretty fine. But this one thing I promise you: I will make your life a living hell.

-JM

And he did. For the next few years he found kids to randomly trip me and hit me, he found ways to make my experiments go wrong, he got close to John and became his best friend (I was good on my word, I never told John a peep of what was going on between Jim and I), I randomly got little love letters from him (not the kind you are thinking of, but our kind, our special kind…and I kept every single one of them), and we had our occasional showdown in strange places (the garden, the bathrooms, an empty primary classroom, the kitchen) with an abundance of sexual tension and interludes given and received. My favorite one by far was the one by the ward for those who needed constant care.

"So, you go around having kids beat me and almost blow me up, take my best friend, and send me love letters. It's almost as if we are married," I say snarkly, bruised and swollen from the multiple attacks throughout the week.

"Almost," Moriarty (I think of him as two different people: Jim, the boy who loves me, and Moriarty, the boy who wants to destroy me) says, "I almost blow you up. I love you too much to lose you so soon. And you know John loves you, too. But I am the one who got his first kiss." He looks at me with his sarcastic shocked face. "Whoops. Did not mean to say that. Oh wait, I did.4"

"What. Do. You. Want," I growl through gritted teeth, fed up with his endless childish games.

"But I already told you Sherlock. Don't you remember? I want to make your life a living hell. I want to burn you. To destroy you," Moriarty says, changing from playful to serious in 0.74 seconds.

"You already have," I whisper, and walk away before can reply with some smart remark.

**M**

Hello, quick note from me before Sherlock goes on about how I destroyed his life. Blah, blah, blah. Yeah, I am that mysterious question mark in Chapter 2. Yes, me, Jim Moriarty. Jim? Jim from the story? I just want to point out that I didn't really want to say that stuff about burning Sherlock and destroying Sherlock and all that. I didn't want to hurt Sherlock, I wanted to love him. Even though he was only eleven at the time of that showdown, he was the most gorgeous male I had ever seen. But the only way I knew how to show my love was through destruction. And that, I am sad to say, is what I did to Sherlock Holmes. I destroyed him.

**M**

Jim and I had to act like friends in front of John. Poor John, not seeing the underlying animosity, only the sexual tension between us. Take, for instance, this one time when we were twelve and Jim (note: not Moriarty, but Jim) sat on my lap in the library because there was nowhere else to sit. Or so he said. And he snuggled up close to my face and kept on wriggling his body, which, needless to say, made me very uncomfortable. And he leaned his side against my chest and put his head in the crook of my neck. I could feel his breath puff warmly against my slowly-warming skin. He tilted his head up to look at my face. And then we were staring deep into each other's eyes, unconsciously moving closer. I couldn't read any hate or animosity in his gaze, only desire and warmth. We were so close our lips were only a hair's breadth apart. The sounds and sights of the library were gone. All that mattered was Jim and I locked in a perpetual state of longing. Neither of us blinked or moved a millimeter.

And then it was broken by the librarian, who told us only one person was allowed per seat. Moriarty teased me incessantly about it for years. And poor John sat there the whole time, doing whatever John does. Probably yelling at us to kiss already.

John truly didn't know what was really going on between Moriarty and I until it was too late. And then John's lion-heart was broken by the lies. The lies brought to light by the Fall.

Notes:

1: Yes, Jim Moran was intentional. My main purpose in this fanfic is to give every shipper something to fangirl or fanboy about, but still always bring it back to Johnlock.

2: I have been thinking of doing a fanfic of not John sleeping around, but Sherlock sleeping around. Please tell me how you would feel about it so that I can see if it is worth pursuing.

3: I have heard before of theories about Sherlock having Asperger's and I was interested to figure out if he actually does. Before I go into my finding, I feel it would be fitting to first give a definition to those who are confused. In Abnormal Psychology: An Integrative Approach by David H. Barlow and V. Mark Durand, it is said that "Asperger's disorder involves a significant impairment in the ability to engage in meaningful social interaction, along with restricted and repetitive stereotyped behaviors but without the severe delays in language or other cognitive skills characteristic of people with autism." Using the diagnostic criteria for Asperger's disorder found in DSM-IV-TR, I found that Sherlock has Asperger's based off of Benedict Cumberbatch's portrayal. Now, this does not mean that Sherlock actually was supposed to have Asperger's, but Cumberbatch has allowed for my portrayal of Sherlock with Asperger's. Please also note that in DSM-V (the newest edition of the books used for diagnosis) Asperger's in no longer considered its own thing but a subset of autism.

4: I purposely created this paragraph to be up to the reader. Did Moriarty actually kiss John or not? Even I don't know.

What did you think? Was ? who you thought it was? Did you like the almost-kiss? And are you mad at me for yet another cliffhanger? Please tell me in a review below!

And your next update is coming on either 1/26/14 or 1/27/14. Unless if five people comment on this chapter demanding more.