Author's Notes : Hello! Just for your information, I'm REALLY not done with Sheriarty fics – I'm even writing a new one right now. And I'll probably write a sequel to Truth or Lie, depending on how it ends and on your comments at the end about wanting one. I'd suggest you subscribe to me if you like my writing and stories. Like I said : I'm not done with Sheriarty. I have so many ideas! For now, I have 5 multi-chaptered ideas for fanfictions about them and about three oneshots. So… Thank you.

Disclaimer : Same as before.

Truth or Lie

Chapter 14. Turning the Tables

For a first time, Sherlock wasn't displeased at all. He even thought it had been the best opportunity for him… Because, frankly, he had never given it much thought before – besides a few times when he felt really lonely and sadly unnoticed -, and none else had triggered such a thrill and exhilaration from him than his nemesis. So, it was only logical that if the situation were ever to arise, he'd take it… a bit uncertain and frightened inside, but that, none else needed to know.

He lay there, panting and laughing softly as he remembered all of their big moment – Jim's hand here, his fingers there, and so on… Plus, who had ever thought Sherlock Holmes would ever get laid? Heck! Even himself had never really thought it could happen to him…with the right person. Well, more with the best criminal mastermind he had ever met. Somewhere inside, he knew this couldn't last forever… but he didn't care as he threw the thought far away in his mind and locked it up. He didn't need that piece of information his head was telling him. He wanted to make the best out of it. So, he turned on his side, his head resting on one of his arms, and stared at Moriarty with unbelievably soft eyes. Sherlock felt the heat coming from Moriarty's body and he liked it… It was proof of what had just happened. He grinned… As soon as he saw Jim's seemingly innocent expression, his heartbeat increased with a warm and soothing sensation rushing through him. He didn't know what it was… but it looked like infatuation of scale 2… If Sherlock hadn't been such a different person from all the rest, he'd have known this was called ''affection''…

Sherlock wanted to whisper a grateful ''thank you'' for making him feel good and finally – even if temporarily – number one in that zone. He also wanted to scream his lungs out and rush out of the hotel, to somewhere safe from this typically human behaviour, but he didn't. No. Instead, all he found to say was:

''Next time, I'm on top.''

He didn't know if what he had said was really funny or if it were because of his serious tone, but Jim smirked and snickered, his eyes gleaming with genuine amusement and happiness for once. At this right instant, Sherlock felt as if he had seen behind Moriarty's façade and perceived a bit of his real safe. And he wasn't going to lie saying it wasn't interesting… nor making him a bit hopeful – shamefully, yes. He scooted a bit closer, meaning to try and share this moment with the other man – he also wanted to learn more about the criminal's plan and how to break it. He reckoned that if he acted just a bit cuter, it might work to his advantage… and there he could reverse the situation to its best and have Moriarty wrapped around his finger so he'd be the winner with the less hurt out of them both. But that wasn't easy… nor was it impossible. If he were being honest, he had only one big fear about it, though: that they'd both fall for it, and it'd be a disaster. But it was highly unlikely for them both, no matter how alike they were, they didn't feel things like normal people did… Or did they, somewhere within? Hadn't Sherlock secretly wondered what it'd be like to be someone's crush? To be interesting in the love zone younger? Yes… But then he had understood it could never happen. To him, anyways. Until Jim, his equal, came around… Possibly had he even wondered about the same things somewhere in his life! If there was one thing that could ruin them both was their unsaid need of each other…

Jim suddenly narrowed his eyes, glaring at him, before clenching his teeth and brusquely getting out of bed. Sherlock gasped, sitting bolt upright as he watched Jim gather his clothes in an obvious rage before running to the bathroom, slamming the door. Sherlock frowned and quickly pushed the sheets way, following him awkwardly – he disliked being naked, wandering about a room. He preferred it if he were home alone… or with John sleeping. Whatever. As he reached the door and raised his fist so as to knock, he heard his Mozart ringtone playing somewhere in the room. He rolled his eyes and muttered '' Not again…!'' before hurrying to find it. It was obviously not the best time to receive yet another call from Watson – because it had to be Watson, no other possible explanation – when Jim had all of a sudden become angry and savage.

''TURN YOUR FUCKING PHONE OFF!'' Jim shouted angrily from the bathroom, doubtlessly annoyed.

Sherlock cursed under his breath at the criminal, frowning as he accelerated the search. He finally found it in his coat, which had been thrown away near the exit door during their… discovery of each other's body. When he took it out of his pocket, he saw it was, indeed, John who was calling. His fingers fumbled on the phone, pressing the ''Cancel call'' button then he turned it off, putting it back gently into his pocket. He bit his lower lip, then glanced over his shoulder at the bathroom door - was Jim going to take a shower or was he simply hiding for an unknown reason? In any case, it meant Sherlock could either leave or have a great time alone in this hotel room. The latter didn't seem so interesting, mostly with the taking into account that he was still nervous thinking back about what they had just shared… It had been wonderful, almost perfect he could say, but now as he thought about it, the rough part had been a bittersweet experience for him… He didn't know if Jim had enjoyed it, but he sure hoped so because for the pain it had given him, he simply had to…And yet, it had made him come a second time. In retrospective, it wasn't all so bad. Sherlock, pondering over this, gulped, his cheeks flushed with pink, then stood up. He'd have to find his pants, trousers, and so on if he wanted to make a run for it… Because as it had been shown, the criminal mastermind was changeable much and something in his guts told Sherlock it wouldn't be long before the situation would take a turn for the worse. But as he bent to pick his pants up the ground, the bathroom door opened and Jim slid out, completely naked, bearing an apologetic expression on his face. Sherlock stopped midcourse and raised an eyebrow before straightening up.

''What?'' said Sherlock coldly, attempting to mask his suspicion. He also felt as if attracted and couldn't help but observe from head to toe Jim's naked body – he was well-built, balanced, and handsome… if not even much desirable. The consulting detective had to clear his throat and swallow so as not his thoughts to be guessed easily. Although, with the grin Jim offered him, it was clear he had been too obvious…

'' I am sorry for running off like that and shouting at you. I just want to inform you that I'll take a quick shower and be back to you in a few minutes, okay, sexy?'' Jim told him sweetly as if comforting a scolded child, though his eyes sparkled with something that had been gone for some time… a darkness Sherlock could never reach but had already skimmed on from times to times. Never this deeply, though. Also, it seemed that even the other man couldn't stop himself from admiring Sherlock's nudity.

Jim raised an eyebrow and muttered something Sherlock couldn't make out, but he didn't care for he felt shy and vulnerable enough. He shifted, unease, on his feet. How he hated being naked when not alone! Suddenly, Jim walked toward him, arms open wide and embraced him tightly, yet warmly as if they were relatives who cared about and had missed each other. Sherlock, taken aback, first just frowned and was as stiff as a plank. Then, slowly he relaxed, enjoying the close contact of their skin, the heat coming off each other and the lingeringly unsaid desire, and hugged Moriarty back. He could feel Moriarty wriggling under his embrace just so they'd touch even more, though Sherlock didn't say a thing about it. It wasn't as if it were unpleasant… Releasing his grip, Moriarty took a step back then smiled at him, his eyes empty of emotions. Sherlock couldn't put his finger on what it was exactly – it appeared as though Jim was soulless or so sad he only felt emptiness and nothing else. But, it was as mesmerising as it was freaky to him.

''It is okay. But I find no interest in staying here, waiting for you to come out of the shower, which we obviously both need…Mostly when I do not see what we could do after,'' explained Sherlock all matter-of-factly. It was true because he didn't see what was the purpose of staying there since they had come here to experiment, and with its being done, well he supposed they were done too… Plus, he needed a shower badly before he stumbled upon John, and since Jim was going to use the hotel room's, he decided he'd best go home.

''Oh, silly me! I forgot to mention you could come shower with me…'' Jim corrected himself, wiggling his eyebrows as a sexy invitation.

Sherlock, gulping as he felt excitation tingling all over his body and mostly in his genitals, shook his head and said a clear ''No''. Because, no matter how enticing the idea was, Sherlock just wanted to rush back home, take a shower, and go to his mind palace to mull over all this and the changes he could feel it had occurred in him. Jim's mouth twitched with rage and noticeable hatred as he leered. But he quickly masked it with a comprehensive look and innocent wide eyes.

''Of course… I understand – You want to get home to your pet. But tut tut, I know you'll make the wise decision of not telling him about this, riiight~?'' he cooed, moving his index before Sherlock's face. ''And don't worry, beautiful, I'll call you…''

Winking, Jim nonchalantly walked to the bathroom and as he glanced back at Sherlock, he forced a small smile before closing the door. Sherlock sighed and didn't wait around – he got dressed and rushed out the room, closing the door behind him. He pressed several times the first floor button in the elevator and just glared at the two other persons who were in with him – he knew he stinked of sweat and other body liquids… but he didn't care. No, he had only two things in mind: get home quickly and how to avoid Watson… The latter, he figured easily, would be the most difficult part.