Title: Of Rats and Men

Chapter: Tea and Talks

Place: London - Baker Street; Jim's Flat

Characters: John Watson; Sherlock Holmes; Gregory Lestrade; James Moriarty; Sebastian Moran

Mood: Desperate; Daring; Doubtful

Warnings: None


Sherlock woke up only partly when he heard his phone signal a new message and read it, even though the words were blurred.

I bbm't hhbv daasf wtg Jrdne. -Rgg

He pressed it to send, curling his arms more tightly around himself since he was feeling terribly cold, and fell asleep again.


I don't speak moron. -JM

Jim sat in his apartment, high above the city and stared out the window thinking about what had happened. He couldn't sleep, he never really did sleep if he could help it. He needed to think. The walls of his apartment were a clinical white, the room quite empty besides a few pieces of furniture. What did that say about his head? That it was cold, empty? He rolled up another cigarette, mind absent as he sat alone and cold. He had left his jacket and shoes and socks at Baker Street. Purposely? He'd let his subconcious decide that, needing to focus.

Sebastian's heavy steps echoed in the hollow room as he walked in, Jim seeing the man's reflection in the glass.

"You're late. Where've y' been?" Sebastian commented.

"Out. Busy. None of your concern." Jim replied softly, staring out at the shining lights.

"Alright." The elder shrugged off Jim's disgruntledness and approached him, handing over a memory stick. The criminal made no sigh of recognition until a few seconds later when he snapped out of his trance.

"Thank you Bassy.." He studied it before putting it in his trouser pocket, checking his phone again.

"I'm going to bed. I'd advise you to come too." Sebastian raised an eyebrow at Jim.

"I'm not tired"

"I know, come on." He pulled Jim up as if he was a child and at the moment he was acting like one. Because he was planning.


It was early morning when John stirred, jerking awake. He rubbed his head against the side of the soft couch, not knowing where he was in his sleepiness but he cared little. His body ached; only a ghost of what it had done the night before and the drugs had broken down and vanished in his sleep. John reopened his eyes to the world again, seeing the rather gaunt features of 221-B and he sat up.


Lestrade woke up few minutes after eight in the morning, feeling quite horrible. His back was cold and aching even though he had a blanket over himself. Not that he knew where he got that. He stood up, still more asleep than not, and almost fell onto the sofa. "S'rry.." he muttered towards John, unsure if the man was awake or not, and left into the bathroom to get a shower.

"S'alright." John replied sleepily, waking up properly with a small yawn. He rubbed his eyes and watched Lestrade leave. He was glad he had fallen asleep before he heard..well, heard Jim and Sherlock together. John felt slightly annoyed by it despite it not being his place to feel that way on it. He made his way to the kitchen, shakily, with the blanket still around him.

Sherlock opened his eyes to the sound of the shower, noticing that neither Lestrade nor John were in the living room. That was weird. Well, one of them was in the bathroom obviously. He yawned and stretched, picking up his cellphone. He read the message from Jim, not really getting it at first, but then he flicked to the two previous, body shaking with laughter he didn't bother with muffling.

Don't you? I thought you would be fluent. I meant: 'can't, I am having date with miss Adler.' If you haven't killed her yet, that's it. -SH

Irene is in Kyoto. She's busy. 9pm, I'll be waiting. JM

John walked back into the living room, looking over at Sherlock and sat down. "G'morning."

"Good morning John." Sherlock murmured almost absently as his eyes scanned trough the message. He frowned; that was not right. Irene herself asked him, it was impossible for her to just.. fly away into Japan and forget to inform him.

Still alive, I hope. -SH

Not that there was any point in worrying, but if Jim really got rid of Irene, it would be because he had told him about her disloyality. If Jim did kill her, it was all his fault. Sherlock clawed his nails into his knees, feeling quite sick.

No concern of yours. 9pm. JM

"You alright?" He asked, sitting down and looking over at the taller man. "Sleep well?" John realised that might have been a stupid question but he meant well by it.

Sherlock's eyes widened a bit at that message; so she was either death or soon to be. Fuck. He noticed his breathing growing quick and shallow. A panic attack, he realized. He couldn't look up at John; he was the reason of one death. Murderer. He had never killed anyone - the only person he ever wanted to, being Jim. And now- fuck.

"Something wrong...?" John asked, looking quite concerned for him. Had Jim done something..? He was looking at his phone so maybe..

"N-no. No. Nothing." Sherlock jerked up at John's voice. He gathered himself, taking deep breaths to calm down.

Will you tell me which one is it, or can I just choose one randomly? -SH

He quickly sent the message, finally able to look at John. "Good morning. How are you feeling? Also I apologise for the.. scream. It was an experiment. Not sex; just experiment." he rambled quickly, as if trying to press the five sentences into as little time as possible.

"Oh. Right. Of course not. Having sex with him would be uhh kinda stupid. Unnecessary." He commented with a shrug, "You're smarter than that. Has he left..? Um..thanks by the way." John smiled, "For saving me back there. Thought he was being serious with the stuff he was saying. Tounge like poison.."

"Oh I did have sex with him." Sherlock shrugged, moving up to make himself a coffee. "Just much more later. That scream was only a.. joke." he waved it off carelessly, putting the kettle on and waiting for the water to boil. "And I guess you are welcome. Doesn't matter much, Jim wouldn't have killed you."

"A joke? I thought it was an experiment.." John asked, shaking his head and checking his phone.

Are you ok? I will be there next time. I was incapacitated. -

Incapacitated? JW

My hand was removed. -

John sighed, annoyed. More death, more harm he was causing. And his feelings for Sherlock didn't help anything.

"Well, Jim said it would be embarrassing if you two heard me scream." Sherlock shrugged again, watching the kettle with impatience. Honestly, how long did it take for water to boil? That was ridiculous. "So I did." he gave him a fleeting smile, feeling a bit less cold then before. A lot less horrible. "You said Jim told you something.." Sherlock remembered, "What was it?"

"Ah." John replied to Sherlock's explanation but his slight smile faded. What Jim said? Apart from telling Sherlock everything John felt about him when his broken body would hang above, slitting his throat in front of the other. That Sherlock himself would hate John, loathe him for being so stupid and finish the job himself. That they'd string up his corpse, give him away piece by piece to his sister only after planting his head on the wall.

"Nothing.. Just being a dick."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Stop being a moron." he sighed. "Tell me what he said, it might be important." he urged John, giving him a look. The water finally boiled and Sherlock turned around to pour it into his mug. He inhaled the scent of coffee, almost moaning out loud. Coffee was ambrosia.

John sighed, knowing he'd have to say something. "He was just being really creepy and trying to be scary. Y'know, stuff like 'I'll cut you up into pieces and send you to your sister' or 'I'll kill you grr.'" John made up the last one with a shrug, putting on a really bad Irish accent to try and lighten the mood, "I think it's just that..he had been Richard and that still creeps me out."

"You are a terrible liar, Watson." Sherlock leaned to look at him from closer proximity and sighed. "He said I won't come to get you." he guessed. "That I was on his side. That's why you were creeped out by the fact that I had sex with him. What else?" he demanded, not bothering to sound gentle.

"Yeah." John nodded, "And it matched up what you said before when you had the gun to my head.. so.. kind of creeped me out. He didn't lay a hand on me though, just that guy. Moran?" He shrugged, feeling uncomfortable and avoiding eye contact, knowing he had to lie. He couldn't tell him. "That was it."

"So he told you exactly the same I told you before. And you still don't believe it." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Are you waiting to have it in written form, or what?" he raised his eyebrows at the male. He knew he was being cruel; but in some way, he wanted the older feel just as terrible as he was feeling.

"Yeah yeah, I get it alright? I was just being stupid. Drop it." He warned, shaking his head; thinking that Sherlock could be going about this in a better way.

"And what makes you think I want to do anything you want me to?" Sherlock asked, careful to keep his voice cold and emotionless. He poured a large amount of sugar into his coffee, gently stirring it without a spoon, just with the movement of his wrist.

"Nothing. Because you do what you want. Or what Lestrade tells you to do. Or Moriarty." He stated firmly, dismissing it with a roll of his eyes. "Just whatever Sherlock.."

"So you can use your brain, how interesting." Sherlock noted coldly. "Though it's a bit better than letting myself get kidnapped, just because it's a fucking woman who asks me to crawl into an unknown car."

"The fact whether it was a woman or not didn't matter! She talked like a member of the organisation and I wanted to confront them again." John defended himself, "I just wanted it to end! I don't want my fucking girlfriends to be murdered! I don't want my friends to be killed! I don't want strangers to die because of me, Sherlock!"

"Don't tell me. I didn't kill any-" the younger froze for a moment when Irene's face flashed over his eyes. Fuck. "Forget it. I am not arguing with you. Don't get caught next time; I would just let Jim finish you off." he lied softly and moved into the living room. Sherlock laid the mug onto the table, absently picking his book up from the floor, and moved to sit in his chair.

"Thanks." John replied bluntly, going over to the window, watching London go by. He just wanted to tell Sherlock how he felt but he couldn't. He was a coward. John Watson, the coward who was going to war.

Sherlock laughed bitterly, tough he muffled it into the coffee, almost spilling it on himself. "You know what's the best, though?" he asked loudly, his voice cheerful and fake. He was turning into Moriarty. Sherlock snorted at that thought. "But really, John; you know what's best?" he didn't even know why he couldn't just let it be.

"What Sherlock? What is best?" He asked, turning around to look at the annoyingly cheerful man. Everything about him was just so perfect..It was unfair entirely.

"That you don't even know what happened. That's fun, isn't it." he laughed bitterly, because it was easier than cry. "Did Jim tell you I hate you?" he stopped laughing just as suddenly as he started, turning to look straight at the older, titling his head in curiosity.

John nodded in answer, looking at his hands; knowing he was being stupid. He looked back at Sherlock with a frown, "What happened then? What's making you all giggly?"

"Oh nothing much." Sherlock waved it off. "I just sold Irene off to get you out. And Jim was right." all traces of teasing or humour disappeared from Sherlock's face, but he never moved his eyes away from John's. "I do."

"I can understand." John nodded, his heart sinking even worse than before. He really did hate John. Of course. He'd have no other reason to feel anything else. His eyes didn't leave Sherlock, not caring if he could read a million and one emotions off him like a book. He swallowed hard, looking out the window again. "You're an idiot."

"No I am not." Sherlock shook his head. He frowned a bit, seeing the raw sadness and hurt in John's eyes. He moved to stand up, crossing the room to him and turned him around by his shoulders, face just inches from his. "See? That's why I fucking hate you, John." he grit trough his teeth. "Why can't you just.. decide? Why can't you either.. want me or let me move on?!"

He was completley thrown off, suprised by this. John looked up into the other's eyes, his beautiful eyes. "Sherlock.." John started, not knowing what to do or say. This was hard and he was a coward. "I.." He cut himself off, not being able to continue. "You don't do normal. You don't do relationships. You do crazy consulting criminals and drugs. You..you don't do people like me." He spoke honestly, looking up at Sherlock, deciding to let it all spill out. Worse comes to worse, he leaves and joins the army alone. "Yet.. Look at us. You're inches away and I can't tell if I want to punch you or kiss you."

"And what do you think I was talking about." Sherlock rolled his eyes and moved a bit away, as if physically exhausted by the conversation. "You hate me, then you like me, then we have sex, then you go and find yourself a girlfriend, because, obviously, you aren't gay, then you keep on looking at me like.. like that.." he exclaimed in frustration, throwing his arms up. "Like you like me and want me.. and then you go and talk about having children and getting married. Why can't you just.. decide one way or the other?"

"I like you, okay?!" John yelled at him, running a hand through his hair. "I like you Sherlock. A lot. I want to be with you. It's just different and me being who I am, I'm scared of different. I like you. You...make me want to scream with anger yet you make me feel so happy and safe when I'm with you. That night I was ill and you were with me..It confused me so much since I'm trying not to think with my heart but it kinda just happens. I'm sorry that I'm stupid! I'm sorry! I can't help it." John shook his head, feeling himself shake. "You're not safe with me anymore."

"You sound as if I ever was safe anywhere. With anyone." Sherlock smiled a bit, his eyes softening. He reached his hand to gently run his fingers down John's jaw. "Just.. just think about it. Decide what you want. Grow up." he said almost desperately before he moved away. "I am going to see if Irene is still alive now.." he sighed and moved to get his phone. Jim had yet to answer his question. He sighed again.

Hello miss Adler, are you free in about half an hour? We could meet where we met ;) -SH

John watched him carefully before nodding and sitting back down. He was right. That's all John needed to do. Think. Think and grow up. Especially grow up. Decide what the hell was going on with him, how he felt and just bloody think. "Why? What's happened to her?" He asked, just loud enough for him to hear. John's hand went to his jaw where Sherlock's hand had just been.

"I told you, didn't I." Sherlock said absently, staring at the screen of his cellphone. Nothing. That was bad. Both Irene and Jim were always fast to text back, yet, now were both of them silent. "I told Jim something that could possibly get him to kill her. I needed him to stop concentrating on you, so I gave him Irene."

"But isn't she like his left hand or something? Surely he wouldn't kill her..?" He asked, feeling even worse. He should have just died and saved everyone the hassle.

I'm busy. Who is this? - IA

"Irene works for herself.." Sherlock sighed, his eyes widening at the response. "She.. obtained certain information from me and waited almost a week before giving it to Jim." he explained in soft voice. "Up till that point, Irene had been working with him.."

Surely you haven't forgotten me, miss Adler. Well, enjoy Japan if you will. -SH

Oh of course not. Thank you. IA


Jim smiled as he replied to Sherlock, toying with Irene's cameraphone in his hands. He was sat still in the same position as before. Sebastian approached him with a piece of toast on a plate, shoving it onto his lap.

"Eat." He spoke roughly, sitting opposite.

"Busy. It's Tuesday, I'm fine." Jim replied absently. "Busy."


"Ah right ok." John replied with a small nod.

"Fuck." Sherlock cursed loudly and threw the phone against the wall where it crashed into pieces. Too bad, he had grown quite fond of that one. He breathed heavily and moved to slump into the armchair, covering his eyes with his hand.

"Sherlock..?" John asked carefully, going over and picking up the pieces of his phone, placing them on the table together gently. "What's happened..?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know? I am not a freaking seer!" he snapped. "Sorry.. sorry.. just.. sorry.." Sherlock muttered few seconds later, curling into himself. No reason in going out to find her; she was either dead or on run - and he really, really hoped it was the second.

"It's fine, Sherlock. More than fine. Just..d'you wanna be alone right now or something..? D'you want me to get you something?" He asked softly, trying to put the phone back together again but he was no technician.

"Do what you wish." Sherlock forced himself to sound calm. He watched the skin of his palm as if it was the most interesting thing ever. "Though I have a question. Richard, did he ever told you about any of his relatives? If they are dead, then where they are buried?"

"Why? Don't turn to murder.." He shook his head, sighing. "He was close to his gran. Hated his dad. His dad was a git. He didn't have any siblings and his mum was killed when he was little." John shrugged, giving up with the phone and sitting down. "He's got Sebastian." He suggested.

"Where is she buried?" Sherlock repeated the question, perking up a bit. It was something to think about at least. He looked at John, trying to get him to see just how important it was for him to remember.

John thought for a second, "Dublin, I think. Where he grew up. ...Why are you interested in where his grandmother is buried?" Sherlock wasn't thinking about digging her up..was he?

"That's no good.." Sherlock sighed, ignoring John's question completely. He reached over to John and fished the male's phone from his pocket before he could protest, and tapped a message, deciding to try something.

You are getting me irritated by not answering my question and that's kind of ruining the rest of the good mood I had acquired yesterday night with your kind assistance. -SH

He sent it to the number he remembered as Irene's, knowing that that kind of a message won't make sense to anyone but Jim.

My aim in life is not to make sure you are in a good mood, Mr Holmes. IA


Jim simply smirked, muttering, "Clever boy.." He had figured out that it was him already. Oh he did care for Irene too much. Shame.

"You should eat, or do I have to force that down your throat, James?"

"Do me a favour and shut up."


Sherlock rolled his eyes a bit, deciding that he wasn't in the mood to play games with the criminal. Well, at least he thought it was Jim who was answering his question - if only for the fact that the person on the other side didn't ask about the last message.

Then just tell me on which fucking graveyard do you want me, or the next time we meet on that kind of place will be your own funeral. -SH

Finally. :) Can't believe I had to do that to Irene /just/ to get your attention properly. The one 5 minutes away from St. Bart's. IA

And it's back to that, isn't it. All is about attention. I enjoyed your attention very much earlier, /miss Adler/. -SH

Sherlock couldn't help but smile a bit, even though he knew he shouldn't. But Irene was smart; he just hoped she was smart enough to run. Run for her life. And to call him - or John, since she surely had both of their numbers remembered - if she needed help. "I need a phone." Sherlock realized, a bit surprised, and looked up at John as if that would help him with his problem.

"You're using mine there. You might as well keep it." John shrugged. "Just don't throw it off the wall when you're having a tantrum."

Of course you did. Everything is about attention. All attention is good attention. IA

"I need to be able to use my number." Sherlock specified, he handed the cellphone back to it's rightful owner and stood up. "Do you reckon I should bother my brother to get me one..?" he titled his head at the older.

"I don't see why not." John put the phone in his pocket. "You're lucky you have a brother with that kind of power. Go ahead. He'd be happy to hear from you." He spoke as he looked around the room.

"Lucky.." Sherlock scoffed. If Mycroft wasn't that.. important, he would never have gotten his hands onto Jim and never would have sold his own brother off. But really, nasty voice in Sherlock's head piped out, how is that different from what had he done? Hadn't he sold Irene off to her death, just to get John back? Sherlock sighed. "Could you send a message to him? I kind of lack the tools to do so."

"Yeah sure," John spoke as he got his phone out, "What d'you want me to say?" He asked, looking over at him.

"Just for him to get me a phone. You can add something along the lines of 'fuck off', if you wish to." Sherlock rolled his eyes lightly, eyes lit up in amusement. "You know - that would be quite funny to hear. Or read. Whatever. Please, please do that."

"Ok then" John nodded, typing into his phone:

Mycroft, get me a phone I broke mine. Also, fuck off. SH

John turned the screen to him, "That alright?"

Sherlock leaned to look at the screen, small grin playing over his lip. "I thought you would use your signature, though." he mumbled, as if disappointed. "But really, my brother would know you sent it anyway." Sherlock's grin widened.

Understood. My PA will appear on BS 221-B shortly. -MH

He smiled, putting it in his pocket again. "He said his PA will be here. What kind of guy has a P- oh yeah. Mycroft." John laughed slightly before looking over at the door, "Greg's been in there a long time."

"I suspect he is either trying to drown himself or fell asleep in there." Sherlock said carelessly. "And the girl.." he frowned slightly, "She is interesting. She doesn't ask questions, I think she would kill for Mycroft without even batting her eyes."

"Maybe I should check on him.." John stood up and walked to the bathroom without listening to the end of Sherlock's speaking. He stepped his way over to the bathroom, knocking gently on the door. "Greg, you ok?"


Gregory jerked awake at the sound of John's voice, finding himself sitting on the cold ground. Very smart, he snapped at himself, to fall asleep in just as uncomfortable position as before. "Ya..'m fine." he called towards the door, climbing up onto his feet. Greg tied a towel around his waist, deciding to go to bed and sleep. For a long, long time.


"John." Sherlock called, slight frown appearing on his forehead. John was ignoring him. Again. He hated it. "Lend me your phone, I need to send a text."

"Right, ok then. Just making sure.." John nodded before turning around and getting his phone out. He handed it to Sherlock before sitting back down. His eyes followed Greg as he went to bed, slightly concerned for him.

Jim. John is ignoring me. :( -SH

He sent the message and handed John's phone back to him. He hated being ignored. It made him feel surreal, as if he didn't even exist. As if he was locked in a dream and couldn't wake up. Empty. Dead. Sherlock sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. He listened to Lestrade's steps, finding it quite amusing that the older wouldn't mind using his bed. He had to be really exhausted.

"You planning on doing anything today?" John asked, trying to add some voice to the silence.

Awwwh. You two had a lovers quarrel? JM


Jim didn't even bother with the alias, just looking around the blank room with a vacant expression. His mind however, was working at a million miles per hour. Sebastian simply watched him, sorting his gun cartridges out.


No. That is the difference between me and John; and you and 'Bassy'. We are no lovers. -SH

Sherlock's lips twitched into a small smile; at least Jim was answering him, most probably storing everything he had done and said into his brain, and even if he was working on something else. Jim was paying attention to him, as was Sherlock. It really was refreshing. He looked up at John, the smile disappearing, making place for a frown. "Later." he answered, "You don't need to talk to me just because you don't like silence."

Sebastian and I are NOT lovers. JM

"I'm talking to you because I'm interested and I actually like talking to you, Sherlock." John spoke, looking at the arm of the chair as if was the most interesting thing in the whole universe. "Even if the conversation is very one sided. I just like listening to you." He shrugged, going quickly to the kitchen to make himself some tea.

"Yet, most of the time, you ignore me." Sherlock muttered under his breath.

Ah, such a strong reaction. I love it. -SH

"I don't mean to. It's just, you ramble on a lot. I like it, but it's hard for me to kinda let it all go in." John shrugged, voice apologetic. "I don't mean to ignore you."

It's a strong reaction due to your apparent incompatence to get a fact into your head. JM

Sure it is. You might want to turn the tables for a moment and pay attention to him; who knows, maybe he will stop trying to cause you bodily harm. ;) -SH

"Well, you don't need to pay attention to me, do you." Sherlock mumbled silently, eyes trained onto the screen once again. "I will live even without that."

"I know. But I want to." He poured the water into the kettle and waited for it to boil.

Why would I want him to stop..? JM

I will leave answering that question to you. -SH

"Do you, now." Sherlock looked up and watched the older trough the doorway with great interest. "Now that is interesting."

"Really..?" John asked, putting the teabag in the mug, "Want one?" John called, not daring to turn around and look at him; he had the stupidest smile on his face and he didn't know why.

"I have coffee." Sherlock shrugged. "Yes it is, actually. It doesn't look that way." he rolled his eyes. "And now Jim is ignoring me as well. Stupid." he complained, crossing his arms over his chest.

He poured the water and made his tea, walking over and tried to take his smile off but failed. "How is it interesting? I just want to pay attention to you." John really couldn't see it as he sipped his tea.


Jim stared at the phone, just frozen like a computer. Sebastian raised an eyebrow before shaking his head. "I'm going out." He muttered even though he knew James wouldn't listen. He got up and left without saying another word.

What about you and John then? What's the deal with that? You like him, he obviously likes you. JM


"You don't seem to understand just how..important attention is." Sherlock gave him a fleeting smile, "Why do you think we play the Game with Jim?"

I am sure you are aware just how.. difficult John is. -SH

"You play with each other..for attention?" He asked, quite surprised. "I guess attention stops you from being lonely."

Annoyingly black and white. You have to spell things out or he doesn't understand. It's frustrating that you have to dumb things down. That's why I find you so refreshing. JM

Sherlock grinned at the cellphone, "Oh he is so right, so right." he shook his head in amusement.

Oh I am sure he is smarter than I think. As I am sure 'Bassy' understands a tad bit more then you give him credit for. -SH

"Talking about being ignored.." John muttered, sipping his tea, looking at the brown liquid.

Oh Bassy is very clever. He makes John look like a Neanderthal. You should have seen the idiot in secondary school. JM

"I am not ignoring you, I still note your every move and word for later use. I just felt the need to state how was Jim right about some things." Sherlock muttered, not taking his eyes up from the screen just yet, fingers moving quickly to tap a response.

And now tell me again you are not fond of your little pet. Or is it the other way around? After all; he feeds you, takes you out for walks.. -SH


Jim actually laughed, the unusual and almost unnatural sound echoing against the white walls.

I'm not fond of anyone. I have respect for him. He obeys command. He's different. JM


"And what is he right about?" John asked, sipping his tea again."He said

I need to spell everything for you. You don't even know how true is that." Sherlock chuckled lightly, carefully watching the older for reaction, even though he was lightly bend over the phone.

And that, my dear nemesis, is the perfect base for relationship. -SH

I don't do relationships, dear Sherlock. Neither do you, yet you insist with John. JM

"That's not true. You can go tell him to shove that up his a-" he saw Sherlock's face and laughed, shaking his head. "You think that too. It must be true if a sociopath and a psychopath can see it."

I guess. It's the biggest challenge, actually :) -SH

"It is the truth." Sherlock smiled. "I explained why we play the Game.. yet you still got it wrong." he pointed out.

Each to their own. JM

"Then explain it to me again. Simply. Since I need things explained to me."

Of course. Though I hadn't expected you to be scared. How fascinating. -SH

"As I said." Sherlock leaned forward in the chair, "It's all about attention - and how better get attention than to have war against each other? There is not a minute when I don't think about Jim; not one when he doesn't think about me. It makes us.. alive."

"Right." John said with a nod, getting the rough idea. "So you and him think about each other all the time because it makes you feel alive.. Alrighty." He repeated Sherlock's words, putting the mug on the side.

Scared? Of what? JM

"The fact that you can repeat exactly what I told you, doesn't prove Jim wrong." Sherlock rolled his eyes lightly. "Do you know anything about philosophy?" he quickly tapped a response, setting the phone away to look at John.

I will let the answer to that question on you. -SH

"Philosophy? Uhh yeah sure but I'm no Aristoteles. I think therefore I am? Uhh yeah. What about it?" John asked, leaning in his chair to get a better look at Sherlock.

"Aristoteles.." Sherlock sighed a bit. "Who I am talking about is George Berkeley. Have you ever heard 'Esse est percipi'?" he titled his head sideways, looking at John with curiosity.

"Ah right. Him. Yeah, no. Never heard of that." John felt slightly stupider than usual. "That Latin for something? I uhh don't speak it." He scratched his face slightly.

"It basically means 'to be perceived means to exist'. He says that this is the reason why it's so important for humans to have a deity; since deity can perceive every single human being, therefore allowing them to exist." Sherlock explained slowly, staring at the older to be sure he understood.

"Right, ok." John nodded, showing that he understood. "Where are you going with this.. ?"

Sherlock gave him a small smile, "Still not get it? If that.. theory is true, what is so surprising about me and Jim living just for our Game? About us needing each other?"

"Oh ok. I get it. You both need each other to know you're alive? Affirmation since you perceive eachother. Ok." He nodded with a slight smile, just loving to see the other man's smile. Jim made him happy. That.. was disturbing but good in a way. As long as he was happy. But he wasn't safe.

I will eliminate the threat. -

"Something like that. We just.. we both know we will be alive as long as the other is breathing and plotting." he chuckled lightly, running his hand over his face in embarrassment. "It sounds weird." Sherlock muttered and looked away, as his cheeks coloured.

John laughed slighty with understanding eyes, "Sherlock, it's fine. It's all fine. Nothing with you is exactly normal is it? Your mind and Jim's work differently and it's good. It's good to have different, intelligent and brilliant people in the world. If that's what makes you happy then hooray and stuff." He picked up his mug again and sipped his tea.

"We are the same.." Sherlock shook his head. "Completely the same.. I just never.. killed anyone. Well, not with my own hands, at least.." he frowned, looking down at his hands as if scared to see them covered in blood.

"Unlike me. I'm a murderer. Technically." John shrugged, smiling weakly. "You two a pretty similar. I.. well, I did hear what you two were up to in there. I don't doubt half of London hear you but.. you are both very similar. Even in ways you look and speak and stuff.."

"You didn't kill anyone either.. not with your hands.." Sherlock frowned slightly, watching him with fascination, "And in where?" he asked when the rest of the sentence registered in his mind, "Me and Jim? You mean yesterday?" his eyes widened as colour raised into his cheeks, "I thought you said you were asleep.."

"Yeah, yesterday. It's ok though y'know? You and him. You two are perfect for eachother. Completely. I was asleep but uh.. got woken up by it. It's ok though. Your life, your house your everything." He gave Sherlock an awkward smile, looking at his hands.

"Oh, you are doing it again." Sherlock frowned and looked away. He contemplated sending another message to Jim, but decided against it in favour of burying his face into the mug of slowly cooling coffee.

"Doing? Doing what?" He asked, feeling his cheeks go red again. He was so bloody transparent it was.. well.. embarrassing. He looked at the phone.

Eliminate who? JW

James Moriarty. -

"Umm.. Sherlock. Creepy organisation guy." He handed the phone to him, "Says he's gonna kill Jim."

Sherlock took the phone, his eyes going wide. He quickly forwarded John's conversation to Jim's number, knowing that if he just sent him a warning, Jim was probable to laugh in his face.

Whoever you are, if you value your utter existence, don't touch a hair on James Moriarty's head. -SH He sent it, thoughtful look on his face. "Here you go." Sherlock handed the cellphone back to it's owner.

I do not. Therefore I have nothing to lose. Do not worry, Mr Holmes. You will join him in hell soon. -