Author's Notes : Here you go! :D I hope you'll enjoy this ;) It is now the start of the sex scene, like I promised :D Don't forget: comment, comment, and comment if you want the chapters to come faster! And a big thanks to all those who already do ^^ and fave and follow this story! Also, to the person who asked what a peculiar sign was into my story: seriously, when I type it in Word it's fine and there's no sign as such, but when I upload it, it appears O_O So I truly don't know, sorry

Disclaimer :… Again? Like my previous ones!

Truth or Lie

Chapter 12. The Hotel? Really?

Jim grinned victoriously at Sherlock, sitting next to him in the cab. He had offered him a choice wrapped in goodwill and temptation, and the man had just jumped on it. He couldn't be more proud: in a few minutes, he'd own Sherlock. Body, pleasure and mind. After that, he'd probably own Sherlock's heart too – just the way the man came running to him was a clear sign of it. Poor boy was shy and confused. No need to worry, daddy Moriarty would remedy to this much appropriately. Jim's mouth twitched as an absurd thought crossed his mind: Could it be that, somewhere, he liked the detective? No! No, obviously not! He didn't even truly care about the man, only about his intellect and the desire to own him so he could break him, away from his disgusting little pet and prove himself to be the grand winner. But then, it'd be back to square one: he'd be alone and without entertainment again until he died… Jim, sickened by this harsh truth, felt a cold shiver down his spine. No, he despised the very fact of being the only one of his genius – all his life he had been looking for a worthy adversary. So, he'd have to break him slowly… Just to savour this enticing rivalry a bit longer. Yes… And if he wanted to have even more fun with him, it had to be when they were alone. Exactly like he had planned. He was just too good. None could ever beat him. Not even Sherlock, though he was the best toy he had ever found. Suddenly repulsed by the high improbability he might like or need the other man, he let out a sound of exasperation and gripped the door handle tightly. He took a deep breath, knowing he'd have to appear calm so he'd have Sherlock wrapped around his finger by the end of the day. Nonchalantly drumming his fingers on the seat – because he had to gain a good façade back - , he turned to Sherlock, smiling comfortingly as he gently grabbed his hand.

''Don't worry – I'll make it easy on you. I'll be gentle, sweetie…'' he said in a soft voice, his eyes filled with kindness and care. It was so easy to play the role of an emotional man… So easy to just deceive everyone. And so much more fun being the big bad wolf in disguise than the average villain. Evidently, he wouldn't let himself be submerged by foolish and useless things that are the feelings, right?

Sherlock stared at him, puzzled and a tad bit afraid, then swallowed and squeezed his hand softly, a small smile playing at his lips as he tried to appear confident. He wasn't the least reassured, but Moriarty didn't need to know that. He wished that Jim would look elsewhere so he could get time for a quick trip in his mind palace – he had to try and find ways to solve this case without blowing up his shy and insecure Sherlock subtly hooked on his love for Jim Moriarty cover. It would have been easier hadn't his enemy been The Spider… Because he knew the other man would be ready to do anything to thwart him and haunt him if he noticed anything suspicious or different – besides feelings – in the consulting detective. Now, if he only could find how to turn the tables on Jim so he'd have no other choice but to fall for him… Then, Sherlock wouldn't be the only one to get broken, would he? Well, truthfully, he was aiming to not be hurt by this at all, but it seemed that despite everything, flashbacks of the flirting and kissing as well as involuntary eagerness towards what was coming kept on popping up in his mind. Would he really be able to escape it? Because it seemed it was already too late, Sherlock thought…

Jim nodded slowly at the squeezing, enjoying it slightly even though he knew he'd have to keep his focus throughout the whole thing. He had to bring Sherlock down, hadn't he? He released the detective's hand, sighed, and just put his own on his knees. A ringtone started playing. It was one of Mozart's compositions. They both stared at each other – Jim, frowning in apparent disbelief, whilst Sherlock looked apologetically unease. Moriarty watched him take the phone out of his coat's pocket and turn down the call before putting it back. The consulting criminal was pretty sure it was that damn Watson trying to get in touch with Sherlock. It was plain to see that the bullet hadn't been enough to convince him to stay away from this game and let him keep the toy. Another warning should come in handy later on… Jim didn't tell Sherlock a word about this. Instead, he simply rearranged his suit and looked straight before him – to let him know he knew it was Watson wouldn't be professional and it probably wouldn't help putting him at ease… to make him trust Jim slightly. He swallowed his rage at the doctor and just hoped they'd get to the hotel soon. Actually, he didn't even need to hope for the banner was coming into sight. The taxi driver pulled in the hotel's parking lot, and turned round. Jim rolled his eyes and took money from his expensive leather wallet that he gave to him. He smiled at Sherlock – who looked even more stressed out than before, if that was possible -, then got out of the cab with a wink at him. Sherlock gulped and did the same, without the wink on his part, before putting his hands in his coat's pockets anxiously.

''Here?'' asked Sherlock, a bit disappointed at the place.

Jim smirked, eyes gleaming with renewed malice, as he made his way beside his companion on the sidewalk. ''You didn't actually believe I would take you to my house, now, hmmm?''

He raised an eyebrow and just chuckled. Sherlock was so dim-witted from times to time. He sometimes wondered how he could have gotten so obsessed with that man, but then his heart ached and, clenching his teeth, he remembered how they were so much alike, as if made for each other, and how they needed one another… But then again, how had the other one even hoped Moriarty would risk his safety by taking the detective to his home? He was so cutely hopeful when he wanted to. That just excited the criminal even more as well as making him feel worse. He'd have to break him, and soon. He wouldn't lose another time and surely not be beaten at his own game! If, somewhere, that was what the detective was wishing for, he'd find himself to be wrong in not so long…

Jim chuckled and walked forward, pushing the door open and asked the receptionist the key to the room 13. ''I hope for your sake that you're not superstitious,'' mused Jim, glancing at Sherlock who was now standing beside him, looking troubled. ''But then again, isn't being superstitious boring and redundant, which you're not?''

He winked at his companion then waved at him to follow him, calling him ''sweetie'' again. They got into an elevator and Jim tried an ordinary chitchat but Sherlock seemed not at all interested by it, more like on a defensive and stressful edge. And then, startling them both though they only reacted slightly; Jim's eyes quickly locking onto Sherlock's pocket with a dark gleam in them whilst Sherlock gasped and looked alarmed. The sweet music of the same Mozart's compositions rang to their ears. Sherlock stuck his hand in his pocket and rushed to take the phone out, rapidly pressing on the ''cancel call'' button, eyes wide with what seemed to be light fear and stress. Moriarty slowly looked away, faking to not be interesting nor infuriated by any of this as the taller man put it once again back into his coat – that damn dog was such a nuisance! He promised to himself to tear him apart, almost literally, near the end of his scheme. Yes… He'd finally get rid of that less than desirable and annoying thing supposedly called John Watson. He knew that some owners ended up caring for their pets, but he hadn't thought about the pet being so needy and dependent on the owner… He grimaced with disdain before clearing his face of any bad emotion just in time so Sherlock wouldn't notice anything or so. Nevertheless, the criminal kept the chitchat up, beaming as if he truly enjoyed it, until they were out of the elevator and standing in front of their rented room. He opened the door and let Sherlock, like a true gentleman, go first. He had to appear inoffensive. He then locked it behind him and turned, grinning. Sherlock gulped difficultly and appeared like he wished to be somewhere else…

''Come on, now, I told you I'd be gentle with you… You deserve it, sexy~ Now, let's play, just you and me… You'll see, you'll love it,'' he whispered in Sherlock's ear. He smirked as he saw him shiver from the corner of his eyes. By the end of this, he'd be in love with the Napoleon of Crime, it was just too obvious… He was already inclined toward him, admittedly or not. Jim got even closer to him and softly put a hand on his cheek, staring deep into the detective's clear blue eyes and brought his lips to his in a tender kiss. He'd fuck that man hard and he'd have no escape route: he'd end up falling for his love for the criminal. That's how it would go with Jim's plan. And he sure damned planned to follow it, now, if only Sherlock would too… And if not, well, Jim'd make sure the other regretted it deeply. Even more than the horrible breaking he had in mind already to punish him for winning –temporarily, of course- twice over him. He could feel the desire rising up in him, closely followed by his never-ending dark obsession that somehow contained the scary excitation at the thought of controlling the other man, owning Sherlock Holmes, making him his before breaking his most marvellous and entertaining toy. Because nothing could ever last, right?

As their soft lips touched, their breath and saliva mixing together and their mutual arousal becoming more and more present, Jim felt his heartbeat increase as well as a soothing and warm feeling wash over him…Now was the beginning of the end. Or should it preferably be called: the fall.