Fog
by: Ismira Daugene
Chapter 10: The Proposal
Sherlock was laying on the sofa, his hands clenched in fists and four nicotine patches on his left arm. John had been gone for close to three hours now and it was taking everything Sherlock had to not go after him. How long did it take to go out for drinks? Honestly?
His mobile buzzed on the coffee table, insistent and annoying. It had already buzzed a few other times, but Sherlock had ignored it after checking to see that it wasn't John. It hadn't been, only messages from Mycroft that had been deleted before being looked at. The same happened to this message. However a moment later his mobile buzzed to life again, this time with a call. Sighing, he grabbed the offending device and pressed answer. "What is it?"
"It would be beneficial for you to answer you mobile every now and then, brother mine."
"I don't have time for a lecture, Mycroft, what do you want?"
"Just thought I should let you know that your mate entered the tube station at Baker Street and was seen getting off at Euston a few minutes later. It doesn't take a genius to know what he's up to."
Sherlock was off the couch and through the door before Mycroft had stopped talking. It normally took about twenty-five minutes to reach Euston station by foot. Sherlock made it in ten. He received more than a few odd looks considering he was in his pyjamas and silk robe still, but was largely ignored as he quickly made his way through the crowd to the platform where the next train to Holyhead would be departing, if it hadn't already. His eyes roamed from one side of the station to the other, looking for a blond and grey head that was slightly shorter than most of the others.
Finally, the consulting detective looked up at the departure board and a growl escaped his lips. The train for Holyhead had left five minutes ago. "NO!" Sherlock shouted. Several startled people edged away from him and one of the security guards was giving him curious looks. Sherlock ignored them all though and turned sharply towards the exit, his mobile already in his hand.
"I could have told you that you'd miss him, if only you'd listen," Mycroft grumbled.
"I need transport," Sherlock growled making his way toward the exit.
"You'll owe me, Sherlock."
"I don't care. Just get me to Liverpool before John's train pulls in."
"A car will be waiting for you in twenty minutes," Mycroft replied before hanging up.
Sherlock raced back up the stairs to the surface and ran back 221b. John Watson was going to be in trouble.
John sighed as he leaned back against his seat. His heart was pounding and his hands were still clenched tightly into fists. As he'd boarded the train, every inch of him had wanted to turn around and go back to Sherlock, but he'd fought it and instead he was now in a seat on the train headed to Holyhead. There were few others in the car with him, and most of them were in the seats farther up, but this didn't bother John at all. In fact, he'd chosen the least populated car on purpose. He doubted that anyone would recognize him as a submissive werewolf unless they themselves were werewolves. And the likelihood of that was slim. While in the past few weeks he'd been exposed to quite a few lycanthropes, the reality remained that less than an eighth of the population of Great Britain were werewolves. John was unlikely to meet another wolf unless he went out of his way to do so.
The blond man looked out the window and watched as London slipped away. It would take about two hours before he would have to switch trains at Liverpool and then another couple of hours to Holyhead. During that time, all he could do was wait and think. Like where to go after he reached Dublin? He'd have to give it some thought, but he was set on the continent at least. It would be easier to get into one of the smaller countries there rather than try to make it to America.
John was just thinking about the possibilities of Switzerland when a cool hand wrapped around the back of his neck. He stiffened and jerked, but the hand held on. Looking back, he saw the man from the park who had tried to compel him. "What…?" he trailed off.
"Scoot over," the man ordered, and John felt himself immediately moving over into the window seat so that the man could sit beside him. The cold hand moved from his neck down to his knee.
"What are you doing? Stop touch…"
"Silence," the man commanded and John's mouth snapped shut. "Good, now you will not shout or make any indication that you need help. Nor will you leave this spot until I say. You may respond to the questions I ask and ask your own questions."
John felt the compellation to keep his mouth shut break, but when he went to stand up and leave, he couldn't. It was like someone cut the controls from his brain to his muscles. "Who are you?" he finally asked, looking at the man and taking in the fine bespoke suit.
"James Moriarty," the man smiled. "And you're John Watson, submissive werewolf and mate of one Sherlock Holmes. Though not for long."
"What do you mean?"
"You ran," Moriarty said simply. "It is common knowledge that when a submissive werewolf runs, he's fair game to any Dominant who wishes to claim him." The man's hand squeezed John's knee possessively.
John reached over and gripped the man's wrist. "I know of five different ways to break your wrist just from this grip alone. I'd recommend removing your hand. Moriarty smiled with amusement before releasing his grip on John's knee. With a sigh, John continued, "I don't want to be your submissive or anyone else's for that matter!"
The man smirked. "It's quite amusing that you think you have a say in any of this. The submissive's wishes are not considered valid against the wishes of his Dominant."
"I'm not your submissive," John argued.
"Not yet."
John glared at the dark haired man. "How did you know where I'd be?" he finally asked.
"Because I set it up," the man grinned. "It was all rather simple really. Mycroft Holmes lets his submissive alone for far too long. It was an easy task to walk into Detective Inspector Lestrade's office and compel him to tell you about the bond strengthening and addiction."
John straightened in shock. "Was any of it true then? What Lestrade said?"
"Yes, everything he said was true. Though most Doms don't like their subs to know as it increases risk of them running."
"And why did you want me to run?" John asked after a moment.
"Oh very good, Johnny-boy!" the man said betraying an Irish accent. "I wanted you to run so that I could get the measure of Sherlock Holmes. If you want to know a man, threaten his mate."
"Then I'm just a pawn in all this?" John asked indignantly.
"But such a lovely pawn," Moriarty smirked as he leaned close to John and breathed in his scent.
The former army doctor shivered and leaned away. "I'd prefer if you didn't do that, thanks."
"And I don't really care what you'd prefer," Moriarty snapped.
John frowned, but didn't say anything. He turned away to look out the window and the countryside flashing by. After a minute or so he felt the man's hand return to his knee. "Move your hand," John growled.
Moriarty did as asked, though not quite as expected. The hand began traveling upward until it rested on John's upper thigh. "I could take you right now and steal you away from Sherlock. He would never find you again," the dark haired man breathed into John's ear.
Once again, John shivered at the closeness of the man. "Why are you doing this? What's the point?"
"I'm bored, Johnny-boy. And Sherlock is the only one who can possibly keep up with me. However he's found a little pet to keep him occupied and I thought I would see what he finds so interesting in you."
"I'm not his pet," John grumbled.
Moriarty let out a small chuckle. "But of course you are! What else would you call it when an intellectually superior being takes an interest and takes in an intellectually inferior being? You are his pet, John Watson, nothing more."
John shivered and leaned away from the man, but he didn't have very far to go. The window met his back shortly and Moriarty smiled before he leaned into John and whispered in his ear. "And now you are mine." The dark haired man pressed his lips to John's harshly, demanding.
However John reacted almost immediately and shoved the Irish werewolf back forcefully. Moriarty growled, but didn't press forward again. "Do that again, and I'll do more than just shove you," John hissed.
Moriarty merely smirked, but kept to his own seat. He leaned back; his hands in his own lap now. John watched as the man slowly twiddled his thumbs around each other. "I'm going to make you a deal, John," he said slowly, annunciating carefully, still not looking at John. "You willingly come with me…"
"No," John interrupted.
Moriarty lifted his head to glare at John. If looks could kill, John would be dead several times over. "Let me finish, Johnny-boy," he said, and John could sense a hint of danger in the man's flat voice.
"As I was saying…" he had shifted now so that he was looking at John, hands in his lap, and one leg crossed over the other. "You willingly come with me for a week, and I won't kill your mate."
John's brow furrowed and he shifted himself slightly so that he was facing Moriarty. "Why?" he frowned. "I'm assuming that a week is long enough to break the bond, but why would you want to do that? If you wanted to take me as your own mate, you could just do it here and now."
Moriarty smiled crookedly. "You're not as dumb as you look, Johnny-boy. I must give you credit for that."
"I do have a medical degree, you know," John grumbled.
Moriarty merely continued to smile, not acknowledging John's words. "True, it does take about that long for a new bond to break. And no, I'm not going to mate you right now because that wouldn't be any fun! In case you hadn't noticed, I like a challenge, Johnny-boy, and you seem to present a decent enough one." Moriarty paused for a moment to rake his eyes down John's torso before coming back up to meet his confused gaze.
"The bond between mates is stronger if the two werewolves involved like each other before performing the bonding bite," he said after a moment.
John's eyes widened. "So you want to make me like you so that we'll have a strong bond? Why?"
"I find you interesting, Johnny. It's not everyday you meet a submissive with such an apparent dominant streak. You amuse me." The gaze that he set on John was calm and calculating. It seemed to bore right through the army doctor with ease, making John feel like naked.
"And if I don't go with you?"
"Then Sherlock Holmes' life is forfeit. I'd really hate to kill him off so soon, but if it needs to be done," he shrugged as though it was only the weather he was talking about.
John swallowed and stared hard at the man. He was so nonchalant and uncaring. If he agreed to this proposal, he would become this man's mate. However if he refused, then Sherlock would die. A gaping hole opened up in his stomach at the thought and even if it were just hormones and the bond controlling his emotions, he still didn't want an innocent man to die. Wetting his lips with his tongue, John looked down at his clenched hands for a moment before looking back up at Moriarty. "I'll do it," he said quietly.
Moriarty smiled widely. "Excellent. I'll begin making the arrangements."
With that, he pulled out his mobile and began tapping away at the screen while John sighed and looked back out the window. At least Sherlock would be safe.
Author's Note: I apologize for updating later in the day. This week has been completely off. I thought yesterday was Thursday, and I thought today was Tuesday! I have a 30 presentation to do tomorrow and a recording to do in Spanish due today and tutoring in ESL to do tomorrow! Been a long week and it's only in the middle... *sigh*
Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter. I know a lot of you are really not liking John's decision to run. However may I remind you that John is an independent man who (in my world) had a stable job and friends that he was taken away from when Sherlock bonded with him. John never wanted the bond. He was forced into it. So of course he's going to run if given the chance.