Disclaimer: I don't own a thing. A. N. Sorry, no John pov today, but Sherlock was feeling chatty.
Sherlock frankly doesn't know how to feel. On one side, he's never wanted fame, and the whole experience is, frankly, ghastly. Mycroft definitely had the right intuition when he became an éminence grise rather than facing the circus politics can be when one aims to be the frontman of their party. Complying with John's plan to stay out of the spotlight wasn't a chore. On the other side, letting his blogger pick the parameters for the cases they should be involved in seems excessive. Besides, it ruins all his long-perfected standard for classification of cases' quality.
Not that letting the consulting criminal pick them is a much better option. But it's a game. There had to be another round, the sleuth has never doubted that. And with Jim not slipping so that he could find Moriarty first, the opening move could only be made from the criminal mastermind.
Now, if only John would trust him to be able to deal with the situation, it would be brilliant. They survived the last round, didn't they? Sure, technically not thanks to him, but – to be fair – not thanks to either of them, so it's not like his reluctant soulmate can claim a better track record in dealing with the situation. At least, Sherlock never got himself kidnapped.
Fine, this is bitter. He's never been kidnapped because this would have ruined Jim's fun. Cannot exactly have a battle of wits with someone you chained and maybe drugged. It wouldn't be fair play. And no matter how insane Jim Moriarty is, he's always played by the rules he stated. Which is why Sherlock is concerned now. He doesn't know what the consulting criminal wants. A show, obviously. But then what? And, more importantly – what are the stakes this time?
He needs to outdeduce the criminal mastermind. Sure, Moriarty's games are always brilliantly crafted – but they tend to have unpleasant consequences, and if these are also unexpected, well. Lestrade might end up having bigger trouble on his hands than the already considerable chaos he's trying to deal with, despite it technically including no homicide…yet.
Which is why he has frankly no time to bother with John and his PR obsession. He's not four years old anymore. The times when, before going into a new place, Mycroft would inform him of the rules (mostly 'stay close' and 'no, you cannot start experiments without permission here') are long past. If even his brother has given up on the impossible task to get him to behave, why wouldn't John? His soulmate's lectures speak of an odd mix of lack of trust (justifiable given his track record, Sherlock won't deny it) and hopefulness he'll listen that confuse the sleuth to no end – when he has no time to be distracted.
Luckily for him, he has years of practice in tuning idiots out. John's frown when he's too obvious about it – as if listening to the same recommendations for the fifth time in a day would seriously change something in his behaviour than the first four haven't accomplished – only makes him want to roll his eyes. But his soulmate is not a complete idiot, when he wants to, at least, and having an extra set of eyes on the proceedings could offer extra data to confirm or destroy his hypothesis. Otherwise, he'd be so very tempted to point out that Moriarty wrote 'Get Sherlock', not 'Get John' and slam the car's door on his preaching mug.
As things stand, the only thing he can do is hide in the court's bathroom for a minute, since they've arrived before Moriarty's trial started. Sherlock is never happier to be a man – if they were women, John would have followed him there too and continued his sermon. Instead, he can review the data he has, and consider what the consulting criminal will be expecting from him, and if he should give it to him or not. Or he would, if someone didn't hound him there too.
A woman, too! She surely thinks she's being very brave, when she's only an annoyance. Why can't people leave him alone? He's never been popular in his life, and frankly, he can't see how anyone would stand that.
She reeks of fake, too. Sadly for him, he's seen his share of fans and journalists lately – both categories are downright insane, to be honest – and it would be obvious she doesn't belong to the first group even if she didn't sport glaring clues of that. If part of her article is trying to examine how legit his claims of deductive ability are, she should have come in her usual attire (honestly, purposeful ink stains? That's ridiculous) and see what he could understand about her then. Wouldn't it have made for a better research?
Instead, for some illogical reason, she feels the need to pretend she wants into his pants. When if she'd asked anyone who knew him for any length of time, she would have known that no girl ever has enticed him. Mrs. Hudson, Angelo, heck, Molly – she cannot still be mistaken about Irene, the pathologist does have a functioning brain – or half of Scotland Yard could have confirmed that for her. He's not against using one's transport to further one's goals, at all. But at least check that said transport will interest your target, instead of giving him the urge to recoil. That's just bad form.
He wonders what she would make of it, if he confessed that he'd rather deal with a murderous fan like Moriarty any day of the week – at least the consulting criminal has the smartness to make their games interesting.
Even he, though, can figure out that it would be more than a bit not good. Inviting her to a deduction game (he's done his round, after all), if implicitly, doesn't get him anything either. She is not there to play, but to work. She does talk – about how useful she can be to him. about how he'll need someone on his side. John has said the same more or less, tried to get in his head that he cannot antagonise other people in general, much less media or the judge.
But she's the one antagonising him – she's been lying to his face in so many ways, and she has. The gall. To ask about his relationship with John. As if the public needs to hear about his bedroom more than about Moriarty's trial. That's what makes him snap in the end.
He cannot answer honestly, because John would be absolutely livid at being outed as his soulmate. It'd ruin his chances with other people – the ones he's actually interested in. He certainly is not going to lie – he lets his blogger do it usually, letting his proclaims of 'not gay' hang between them, but he refuses to say, 'colleagues'. They're much more than colleagues, even if much less than lovers. They're…them.
So of course his only course of action is no comment (which is what he does 90% of time anyway, with all kinds of people). It doesn't mean that he won't comment about anything, though. The woman has gone to all trouble to know Sherlock's opinion, after all. He'll let her know exactly what he thinks of her work ethic and practices. She can write that, if she's really desperate. True, it can be summed up in a single sentence. But she's a journalist. Embellishing things is basically her job description. He has no doubt that she could weave a five thousand words rant if she so chose.
The John in his mind palace, just as sassy as his real counterpart, quips that he should thank her. Sure, she robbed him of the chance for a last-minute quick review of his understanding of Moriarty's plan. But she gqv3 him an occasion to let off some steam, when he's been looking for someone to tear into all day – actually, almost since the very minute he was forcibly dragged into Moriarty's game. Having someone he could safely channel his frustration on has been a blessing.
"Not so safely." Oh my God, his inner John is as annoying as the real one! "The media can -"
That thought is never finished. Teen Sherlock, still holed in his room, screams, "We. Don't. Care!"
The sleuth is tempted to make a mental note to request John compensate him for emotional distress later, since his (insert what you will)mate's lectures have been so obsessive he somehow internalised them.
Bless the actual trial for starting. At least that's a distraction. Sherlock allows himself a private smile on the way to the stand. The fact that he considers Jim Moriarty's plans no more than a momentary diversion from his personal troubles is not something that he would advertise, but oh - if the consulting criminal knew, how pissed off he would be. Pity that he can't know – Sherlock is pretty sure that the jury is not interested in his feelings. Or at the very least, it shouldn't be.
Jim hasn't requested him to say what the sleuth feels. He has ordered the Yard to involve him to…sing his praises, most probably. It's just the kind of thing that Moriarty would adore. Manipulating people into saying and doing what he wants. Old trick, if one thinks about it. That he trusts Sherlock to play on his own, instead of following a script, is quite the compliment, he supposes.
Being as short and factual as possible should make everyone happy. Moriarty, the prosecutor, John…everyone but the judge, apparently. Can a judge be biased against a witness? More on point, why should this judge be biased against him, before he can even say a word? Oh God, let him not be envious of whatever 'fame' the detective unwillingly amassed. The man landed the trial of the century, isn't that ensuring enough media coverage for him?
Of course, if he didn't need to do the barrister's job on top of his own, things might be smoother. But he needs to; even if Moriarty's lawyer is sitting there as if he's not entirely sure why everyone insisted he went to court in the first place, he's not allowing any flaw that could cause the trial's sentence to be impugned later.
Actually, the apathy of Jim's lawyer is one of the scariest things Sherlock has experienced. If the man needn't worry, it can only be because the consulting criminal has something much flashier planned for this show than, "I object!" and random quibbling. And in the sleuth's experience, Jim's kind of flashy includes bombs and sniper. But there's no way that even the world's only consulting criminal would dare – or even manage – to get a dozen snipers inside a courtroom, is there?
Fine, Sherlock will admit it – 'short and factual' has been swapped for 'short and sassy' in his answer almost immediately. But he's here to please Jim, not the judge or the jury, and his frustration levels soar at having to persuade a dozen idiots that yes, he knows what he's talking about, and no, he doesn't need weekly pub evenings with Moriarty to know exactly how dangerous the man is.
His quality of expert witness is being called in question. Is it any wonder if he decides to prove that he doesn't need more than seconds to deduce people? It's not his fault if someone here to decide about other people's crimes has some dirty little secret of his own, is it?
…John has spoiled him. Being told how amazing and brilliant he is, after a deduction, made him forget how the vast majority of people react. The anger, the spite. Not even working with Donovan is potent enough a defence to ensure that John's kindness won't go to his head. Sherlock still thinks that being put in a cell for contempt of the court is excessive, and if the judge was sensible he'd go free. At least, it's only temporary.
"If I could, I'd leave you in Moriarty's cell instead of the next one," the guard accompanying him mutters, "leave you madmen to solve this between the two of them. Fucking thinking he could steal the crown jewels."
"Oh, no, it was never about that, or he would have them in his own safe. It was about wearing them. Honestly, even the newspapers managed not to botch that detail, and most things they write is actually rubbish," the sleuth replies. He's tempted to tell the man that he would be happy to solve the danger Jim Moriarty poses to the world, but it would be completely useless. Either the man is under orders to just bring him somewhere to cool down, or he's been paid by the consulting criminal to have a while up close and personal with his rival. In both cases, whatever Sherlock says will have no bearing on the outcome.
The detective is almost surprised when the guard proves he's not one of Moriarty's goonies. Oh well. He already said everything he knows about Moriarty's work, anyway. And even if his testimony was erased, the consulting criminal was caught red-handed. There should be no question about what the verdict will be. Still, Sherlock knows that things will not be so easy. Jim didn't start the show simply to get himself into a cell. He can do that any day with much less fanfare, if he really needs to – and why would he, when he has so many underlings to infiltrate any prison for him?
He's not going to discover that – not right now. It's not long before the detective is freed. Still, just long enough to ensure he wouldn't be haunting the courthouse anymore during Moriarty's trial. Maybe someone told them how sneaky he can be with the right motivation? His only chance is to trust John's report of the events. At least it will be better than the media's – his (everything)mate does have a functioning brain, unlike too many people. Now, if only John could resist the urge to lecture him for about thirty seconds, that would be brilliant. But of course that's not going to happen.
Honestly, these days it looks as if anything he does or doesn't annoys his blogger somehow. He's kind of busy, figuring out Moriarty's plan, considering how far along he should play, if he should contact Mycroft. As unpleasant as that last idea is, he shouldn't throw away one of the best strings to his bow simply because his brother is a giant arse.
John seems to be spoiling for a fight. True, the man is a soldier at his core, not a detective. He's used to shooting threats, and now that he's unable to, since the consulting criminal is under continuous surveillance, he's looking for an outlet for the pent-up aggression. If he came forward and asked for it, Sherlock would even spar with him. It would be time wasted, but the muscle memory needed to fight might spark some new connections in his brain.
Instead, John is clearly in grumbling mode. Anything gives him a pretext to complain. Of course the sleuth's face conveys that they both know what's up. Because they do. It's useless for his…mate to deny it. Sherlock refuses to accept that the other can indeed be so blind to the bloody obvious without it being on purpose. With anyone else, the detective would simply despair of their brain…but John is quite clever, and has proved it time and again. Of course he must know what's up.
Heck, Moriarty was this close to writing the Sun's article himself, explaining his plan like a Bond villain. How can anyone not realise the plan, if not the reason behind it? He ends up explaining the obvious, just so John won't have another trivial excuse to complain. Not when he needs to be Sherlock's eyes and ears these days. Since the judge banned him from court (a completely exaggerated sentence, really), the sleuth's only chance to prepare is his…blogger. Fine, he already knows what it will be, but – he cannot allow Moriarty to find him unprepared. And as much as this will be reported on all media for at least a solid week, a difference of a handful of seconds could mean not being ready.
In the meantime, Sherlock tries to meditate. Yeah, that's a great idea. It stops him from panicking and/or calling Mycroft and begging for help. He can take the consulting criminal on. He's an adult, and Moriarty is a brilliant man – not a bogeyman. They can match wit for wit.
Sure, he hopes they won't have to. If only the judicial system did his work, he could forget Moriarty for a few good years at least. But even while he tries to convince himself that there is no way the consulting criminal is going to pull this off (too blatant, too public, Jim works best behind the scenes) he doesn't entirely believe himself.
When the expected news arrive…fine, he's an arse. But he doesn't have time to stand there chatting with John, assuring him that everything will be fine, and he'll be careful, and whatever other platitudes the man wants to hear at the moment. They might too easily turn out to be lies after all.
Starting with the 'careful'. Sherlock is not exactly planning to be prudent. If the trial was all about Moriarty posturing…showing how all powerful he is…the only feasible plan is to match him there. Showing off. Even being reckless, because his enemy can smell fear like the best predators, and will murder anyone who's not worth his time. So, strangely, behaving temerariously might be key to force Moriarty to back down.
Of course, 'utterly unafraid' is not the only requirement of the day. "Polite" is on the list too. There are so many things to consider. The tea service (the good one you traditionally keep in order to show off to frankly appalling people, though most British citizen don't actually need to entertain anyone with Moriarty's body count), the tea itself (not John's favourite), the clothes to put on – or not, he's not going to put on his 'armour' for this, again as a statement – the entertainment… If the world's only (let's hope so) consulting criminal comes a-knocking, one needs to be ready to host. Especially because Jim is not actually likely to knock. He enjoys too much wrong-footing people. It gives him the advantage in the game.
True to form, Moriarty must have had a ride from the court – from someone who didn't mind breaking a few laws, given that John will surely have looked for a cab himself, planning to be back and help Sherlock. Why the man doesn't realise that the absolute best way to help him at the moment is staying as far from the consulting criminal as possible, or deduce that of course Jim's first stop will be Baker Street, is a mystery to the detective. Does his…blogger want to be kidnapped again? Did he like what happened at the pool, despite all the grumbling during their previous match?
No, no, he needs to forget John right now. Although if the man happens to come back home and find the consulting criminal in their sitting room, the result will be explosive. Actually, that might be interesting. No, of course Moriarty will have some guard on stand-by. John wouldn't survive it. Possibly, the whole of Baker Street wouldn't.
Jim's visit, sneaking in aside, starts actually on a lovely note. It's not every day that he gets to discuss one of his favourite composers. Ok, also aside the fact that Jim bloody steals his chair when John's (and the clients', and the fucking sofa) are there for the picking. But Moriarty lives by the 'wrong-foot them as often as possible' rule, because it means taking control of the situation. Subtly but obviously showing power. The criminal mastermind is clever enough not to need some blatant, crass display – the little things can be just as obvious and more unsettling. For common people, anyway.
Sherlock refuses to let himself be upset or intimidated by something that silly. Especially when two can play that game. Presenting to his 'guest' the customary welcome cup of tea (again, they're not complete savages) with the handle towards his nemesis' non-dominant hand can look petty, but it's the very same concept. Will Jim turn it around, admitting to a weakness? Of course not. But it forces him to be very careful with it, or risk an even more embarrassing – and painful – burning spill. Distract even two brain cells, and you have just gained an advantage.
The sleuth isn't surprised when Moriarty behaves almost flirtingly with him. If the man didn't like him in some capacity, he would have sent a sniper to finish him months ago. Clean, quick, no fuss. Instead, the criminal mastermind is still showing off. Teasing, of course. Saying that the detective isn't really his peer, after all. But of course they are. It's obvious.
It's also the very reason they are going to eventually destroy each other – London isn't big enough for both. Quite like a volatile chemical reaction, the results can only be disastrous, possibly for many people. Frankly, as long as some very specific individuals are safe, Sherlock doesn't care too much – whatever needs done to take his enemy out will be. The consulting detective would poison his tea (despite Mrs. Hudson's sure outrage to the defacing of such a sacred staple of life) if he wasn't afraid of whatever plans Moriarty surely has already underway spinning out of anyone's control.
The best chance is to weed discover clues out of the consulting criminal's boasting. The urge to brag might just be Moriarty's end. Not that Sherlock doesn't empathise with that – it's hard to be quiet, especially when people misunderstand that attitude so much – but he solved that problem with John. How is it possible that someone with his fingers in as many pies as Jim does didn't find someone to sincerely sing their praises? Sherlock is impressed, despite not really approving the results of his plans. When have the criminal classes grown so blasé toward genius?
The detective isn't sure, but they clearly have, because Jim is starved for compliments. Or perhaps he has different standard than Sherlock for the praise he needs. The sleuth just wants honest ones, but his rival apparently likes ones with weight. It could be why Moriarty's testing him – see if he's really figured out the plan on his own. Such an urge would make for a very lonely life. He wonders idly who is the man's soulmate. If meeting him (Jim is blatantly gay, so he feels quite sure) would settle the criminal mastermind's undisquieted psyche or if it would make the whole world catch fire.
It doesn't matter anyway. He's not supposed to help Moriarty out – despite already having done so; with his honest deposition in court, any potential client will be drooling by now – he should ensure the criminal is foiled. And he will. He's not about to let himself be scared by vague threats, no matter how sharp their delivery, much less seduced by challenging smiles or playfulness. Even if, should he be completely honest with himself, he is indeed a bit scared. What if he misses the right hint – Jim does like to play fair, after all – and loses this game? He cannot afford to. Probably, the whole nation cannot allow him to.
It felt like an eternity, but Moriarty's visit is actually not that long. With perfect timing, despite receiving no texts to warn him, the consulting criminal swaggers out of Baker Street no more than a couple of minutes before John rushes in. Unsurprisingly, the former officer is fully in war mode – it's just because Sherlock's look stops him half-monologue that he doesn't organise watch duty shifts in the flat. The detective understands how John hates feeling helpless against the master criminal all too well. Still, John shouldn't be pitted against Moriarty. Absolutely not. Trying to persuade his blogger that the best course of action, for the moment, is for him to sit by the detective on the sofa and look for any silly show to take their mind off current events, feels harder than figuring out what are Jim's plans for next round.