When Sherlock returned to the flat, he realised that he had visitors. He opened the door and walked up to find his flatmate playing tonsil tennis with the consulting criminal. He waited for a few moments before coughing politely. Neither man seemed to hear , though he knew for a fact that Moriarty had, so he coughed again then lost his patience.

'John!' He snapped. The doctor looked up abruptly, the blush clearly evident.

'Sherlock. I didn't think you'd be back yet.' He stuttered, trying to clear the mist in his brain. The detective barked out a laugh.

'Clearly.' He hissed, making his way into the kitchen. John turned to the Irishman.

'You git.' He whispered. 'You knew he was there the whole time.' Jim shrugged.

'I can't help it if you're just so oblivious to everything. He wasn't particularly quiet.' The criminal replied, smiling innocently. The detective appeared from out of the kitchen and looked in the way of the two men with something akin to disgust.

'You can leave now.' He growled in the general direction of the psychopath. Moriarty checked his watch dramatically.

'Nope, I believe John is still mine for another… ooh, about two hours and seventeen minutes.' Jim answered, pulling the doctor closer. John pushed away and sighed as he looked at the man-children he had to deal with.

'I'm not a toy, you know, neither of you own me.' He stated. Both of the geniuses gave him the same condescending look, effectively pinning the soldier to the sofa.

'Oh, Johnny, of course you belong to us.' Moriarty cooed patronisingly. John glared at him. 'Don't worry about it darling. If it makes you feel better, just think of yourself as the thing that is keeping me and Sherlock from killing each other and causing general mass hysteria.' The criminal explained. The doctor sighed and scooted closer to the Irishman. Sherlock's expression took on a death glare and John groaned.

'Oh for the love of… Look, if it really bothers you this much, we can go to my room. Out of your way. Then you can do whatever it is you usually do when you're waiting for me to come home.' John said in an annoyed voice. Sherlock blushed and looked away while Jim giggled.

'If you want him to do what he does while waiting for you to come home then we can't go into your room.' The consulting criminal sniggered. The doctor paled slightly.

'What?' He asked, whipping his head round to his flatmate. 'What is he talking about, Sherlock?' Sherlock's face reddened slightly more as he tried to hold the soldiers gaze. When the detective didn't reply, Moriarty decided this was an invitation.

'He goes into your room, goes through your stuff until he finds your most recently worn jumper then he get's into your bed- pulls the covers around him and-'

'Whoa, stop right there.' John said, pressing a finger to Jims mouth to shut him up. 'I've decided I don't want to know.' He removed his finger from Moriarty's lips and the man smiled slyly.

'I've got video footage, just in case you want to know.' He whispered with a wink.

'I'm going to my room.' Sherlock stated, moving away. 'You two can do whatever but please try to keep the noise down. I have work.' He was gone before either man could say anything about it.

'Someone's not happy.' Jim sniggered. John gave him a sharp look but it didn't have any affect on the psycho. Moriarty pulled the doctor back up to him and pressing their lips together messily. The doctor fought for a moment then sank into the kiss, returning the pressure.


Somehow, John had ended up pressed against the arm of the sofa with his hands gripping tightly to the Irishman's dark hair. Moriarty half lay on top of him, with on hand rest on his hip and one hand shoved as far up his shirt as it could possibly go without ripping the clothing itself. From his room, Sherlock heard the familiar rumble of DI's police car. Followed by another police car. Gits. He thought. They think they can just barge into my flat whenever I don't do something they- Oh… Crap. The detective darted out of the room, swinging on the doorframe so to lose as little momentum as possible.

'Anyone of tea?' Sherlock asked loudly. This time he didn't break either man out of the kiss. The detective sighed an went into the kitchen. Well he did try to warn his flatmate but if the man was more intent on snogging that psychopath- Something stirred in Sherlock's gut and he gripped the worktop to steady himself. Jealousy. He realised. He'd never felt that before. The kettle whistled loudly, masking the sound of pounding feet on the stairs. Sherlock placed the tea's on a tray and carried them into the room. He knew exactly how John took his tea and he had a very good idea of the criminals preferences. Just as he was about to put the tray down on the coffee table, the door burst open and five officers bustled in, followed by the DI. John broke away from Jim in shock and froze when he saw the Detective inspector and the police force.

Everyone remained still for a moment while they took in what was happening. The DI couldn't quite believe what his eyes were seeing. The doctor was snogging a bloke. That in it's self wasn't that unbelievable as there was a running pool in the Yard on whether he and the detective were an item. But the doctor was snogging a dark haired, slim, very similar to the description the two had given of Moriarty.

'Crap.' John said, finally able to move his mouth again. Jim sniggered and glanced at his watch.

'I didn't realise Shirley would be having more visitors.' He said, not even bothering to hide the lie. The criminal pulled in the soldier for a peck on the nose then he stood up. 'Well you should be mine for another nineteen minutes but I'm sure we'll just have to leave it as you owing me, Johnny-Boy.' He giggled and winked then walked with a sway of his hips. Now his back was turned on the doctor he eyed the detective and slunk round him, whispering 'I win again.' as he past the taller male. Sherlock grit his teeth but didn't reply. Jim chuckled and went to leave, nodding his head to Lestrade.

'Inspector.' He muttered before practically running down the stairs, still chuckling to himself.

The DI was still in awe. He didn't quite know what had just happened.

'Who was that?' He asked. John was about to reply when he realised who it actually was and he closed his mouth again. Sherlock smirked.

'That was Jim.' He answered for his flatmate. Anderson sneered from some unknown dark corner of the room.

'Jim who? What did he mean about John being his? Did Sherlock bet something which can't be bought?' He asked with the hint of a snigger. The DI shot him a glance but didn't reprimand him. After all, Greg would have asked the same questions, if with a little more tact.

'Jim none-of-your-business.' John snapped, standing up. 'I didn't realise that there's a law saying I have to explain myself to you. What are you even doing here? Sherlock hasn't been using, he doesn't even keep drugs anymore.' The soldier spat. Greg Lestrade put his hands up in surrender.

'Ok, ok. Sherlock was acting strange at the crime scene. I thought something was off so I came here. Just to make sure.' He said. Then he decided to try a different tactic. 'I didn't think Irish was your kinda thing, John. Dark haired too. Say, that reminds me, have either of you had any more thought on this Moriarty character? We can't find anything on him.' The DI said, trying to keep the professional tone in his voice. John seemed to pale slightly.

'No, we haven't.' Sherlock replied. 'Now leave.' Lestrade bowed his head and called the police into retreat.


Once the police had gone and the cars had pulled away. John flopped down on the sofa.

'He knows. Shit, he knows.' The doctor sighed, rubbing his face with a calloused hand. Sherlock waited a moment then pounced on the doctor, pulling him in for a bone crushing hug. He wrinkled his nose and pulled away again.

'Go have a shower, change clothes and burn the ones you're wearing.' The detective commanded. John raised an eyebrow. 'You smell like him. I can't stand it.' Sherlock elaborated. The soldier chuckled to himself and went up to his room. He knew he shouldn't but he was rather enjoying being fought over by the two smartest people he knew. It was a laugh to see how childish the two men could be. John knew that he was playing with fire. What happened when the fighting got past the snide remarks and playing tug of war stage? Someone, most likely John, was going to end up getting hurt. Badly. The shower was scolding hot and it washed away all traces of the psycho. The solder picked out some new clothes and shoved what he had been wearing in the wash basket. Then he made his way back downstairs, towelling his hair dry.


When he got downstairs, he was pounced on again. This time, the detective forced a cup of tea in his hands.

'Drink this.' He ordered. John sniggered.

'I don't see why I have to rinse my mouth as well. It's not like you'll be needing it.' He grumbled half-heartedly, still with the smile on his face as he took a sip. His flatmate looked away. John put the empty cup down on the table and wrapped his arms round Sherlock.

'You really are jealous, aren't you?' The doctor asked.

'No. Of course not. I- I. Well.' Sherlock faltered and John smiled. 'Yes. Yes I am.' He said, looking away. The doctor let him go but the detective grabbed him and pulled them together again.

'No. You are mine. Mine, not his.' Sherlock growled, suddenly possessive. John gulped and pushed the man away gently. The taller male grabbed his wrist and pulled up the sleeves of the man's jumper to see the red welts. The detective froze, clinging tightly to the soldiers arms.