TheDarkestShinobi: Pretty much took someone going through and review every chapter for me to realize I didn't put this one out there even though it's been done for a while. Enjoy!
Start:
I'm not hungry, let's have dinner.
…
"Is this my new prison?" John opens as he walks into the living room, because he dreads the answer but he has to know. He stayed in the bedroom for as long as he could stand once he woke up, but he needs to stretch his legs. There is no response so he glances around and recognizes the apartment as the one he was in last time for tea. He wonders what happened to the other one. He remembers Sarah and flexes his now healed hand. What happened to the cage? John glances around but this place doesn't seem to have one.
"Well, I rather liked the last one, but I'd rather not be interrupted." John didn't, he clenches his fist.
"No matter which mood you were in." Jim freezes, can he tell? and at the silence John's anger rises. His frustration peaks. Sherlock and he had been fighting Moriarty this entire time but he seemed as strong as ever, sitting in ease in an apartment. He's kidnapped John multiple times, and made it very clear John cannot deny him these visits. "Nobody tries to stop you at all?" John shakes his head before holding his hand out. "You're right here!" John exclaims. He's not even a 20 minute drive from London and yet he is too far to catch.
"Yes, I am." Jim nods as he agrees. "You know this." He smiles "I know this. Mycroft will find an apartment once in a while but as long as I control his masters he can do nothing but bark." Jim shakes his head as if he's listening to a medley. "You see, few people know where to find me but no one has the power to touch me." He holds his hands out and John swallows.
Yo Irishman, why didn't you clap? "Not anymore."
"Anymore?" John questions and Jim knows Moriarty is going to scold him later. He laces his fingers up in his lap instead of answering. John understands that Jim won't elaborate and asks the other, seemingly silly, question he had.
"Why am I always dumped on the bed?" The only time he wasn't is a time he never wants to bring up again. Jim smiles as he shrugs.
"I figure it's more comfortable than the floor." It makes sense but at the same time it is so absurd that John just walks away. Jim watches him go but says nothing. John finds the kitchen and makes two cups. He stares at the second cup after they're made, he supposes it's a habit, but he shouldn't let it go to waste. Shaking his head in disbelief, he places a cup in front of the criminal, who simply watches him deposit the cup and pick up the book he had left there last time. John moves to the couch with his own cup and Jim's eyes follow him, but John just sits on the couch to begin to read so Jim stares back at the cup. There is no poison in it. John has neither the access nor the talent. John had nothing on him. There is nothing in this flat. By all intents and purposes, John has made him a cup of tea.
Jim doesn't touch it for a bit, just stares as he notices John sipping from his own cup. John seems content to ignore him, which is fine, for the novel. Jim looks between the cup and John again, but Moriarty doesn't seem to have any thoughts on the matter either.
Jim watches John turn a page as he takes a sip and he can't help but smile at the feelings of warmth that spread through him. He looks down as he places the cup down and remembers Kate's words to him. Her idea that Jim was getting sentimental, that he had found someone, was a wild guess at best. Truly, it was a ridiculous notion. Finally, we agree on something. Jim nods at that. Even if he did like John Watson, in any sort of way, there was no way he could keep him. John is and always will be Sherlock's pet, and he's way too invested in angels to become Jim's plaything. He glances to John again, who looks up from his book in confusion, but Jim just offers a smile that's way too big and John hurriedly looks back at his pages. Jim frowns.
Ridiculous.
But John fights against Moriarty. Isn't that the most important thing?
...
I like your funny hat
…
"I have a lot of work to do." Jim suddenly announces and John looks up from his book to make eye contact.
"So?" Did he want John to leave, stay? Is he now offering John the courtesy of a choice? John almost scoffs.
"You won't be home for dinner." He states and John takes a breath before realizing he has no way to respond to that. He shakes his head a bit, as this had to be the one day John skipped lunch! He closes his book using his index finger as a temporary bookmark but he's not sure what to say back to him. Jim pauses. "So, takeaway?" John's eyes briefly narrow. Yes, the consulting criminal gets takeaway. Jim seems nervous. John crosses his arms as he tilts his head.
"I'm not much in the mood for poison." But it wouldn't be right? Moriarty has gone through a lot of trouble to just poison him now. Jim laughs softly before looking away. John narrows his eyes in realization. He is nervous. Moriarty is nervous around him. He thinks of Irene's words, making Jim beg, and he wonders if he truly has that influence and what in the world he possibly could have done to gain it.
"Well, how about Chinese?" Jim offers and John stares for a minute before he nods. He swallows before he gives his and Sherlock's order without thinking. Jim doesn't write it down or call for food, but around half an hour later, there is a man at the door with said food. John keeps his eyes on the bag for any clue of something being wrong but it seems as natural as the entire situation could be. The man sets it on the table as John checks the flat for any obvious surveillance but it's fruitless.
Jim taps the table next to him as he takes out the containers. John notes he leave the food John ordered for Sherlock in the bag as he walks over to the table. Jim is eating before John sits, and not paying him much attention, but he is smiling. John doesn't taste the food as he inhales it, and he stares at Jim the entire time.
"You have questions." He voices and John sighs.
"How do you know?" John puts his fork down as he half expects to be called dull but Jim shrugs.
"You keep licking your lips, a nervous habit for most people when trying to figure out what to say. You take small bites, that could be manners but you were in private school for medicine, no reason you hadn't been given proper dinning etiquette. Then there's also the fact that your lips keep mouthing halves of words and you keep directing your gaze. Pretty simple to read once you know what to look for."
"Hmm," John nods at the explanation and Jim looks back up at him.
"So, your questions?" John smiles and shakes his head.
"I seem to have forgotten them." John giggles and after a second Jim joins him. Suddenly the room changes and John is on his feet when Moriarty slams his hands onto the table. John narrows his eyes and adopts a fighting stance but Moriarty just slams the table again and again.
"Get out!" John locks eyes with the other for a second before turning and leaving and only after that does Moriarty collapse on the table while his hands grip his skull tightly.
"I'm going to kill him." Moriarty growls. "Put a bullet in his heart."
…
"I don't understand a thing about this."
"No one understands," Maraino offers, "I just do the job and get paid."
"But he's a criminal mastermind?" Of which John seems to be the only one who cares. "How do you feel working for… that!?" John gestures towards the direction they came.
"Don't judge me." The man suddenly says harshly and John straightens. "From what I know, you've killed people." John is silent and the man huffs. "All I do is drive a car."
The rest of the ride is silent.
…
I can see tower bridge and the moon from my room. Work out where I am and join me.
"He kept you later this time." Sherlock greets as John walks into 221B.
"You eat?" John asks ignoring Sherlock's comment and the moan he heard coming up the stairs. Even so, he adds it to his mental count. Sherlock looks away from him.
"Eating's boring." John figures as much, so he holds out the extra container to him. Sherlock lifts an eyebrow. "Sharing meals." He observes with interest and John sits on his side of the couch without a word. Sherlock eats a few bites and tries to determine how long ago they ate by the temperature of the food but before he can ask John turns on the television. It's rather obvious that this is something he does not want to talk about but it's so interesting. When Sherlock's feet find their way under John's thigh he expects a glare and comment, but John just chuckles and reaches for the remote to change the channel. Sherlock watches him with interest but keeps eating after a moment. As John channel surfs, he lets his right hand rest on the couch, his thumb against Sherlock's ankle. An hour later, Sherlock realizes the thumb is moving in small circles. He doesn't notice much else for the rest of the time John's sitting with him. He doesn't even notice the moan from his phone, although it does cause John to pause in his motions.
Oh for God's sake. Let's have dinner.
…
I'm in Egypt talking to an idiot. Get on a plane, let's have dinner
Sherlock watches John mumble under his breath.
You looked sexy on Crimewatch.
Sherlock is almost sure John is counting.
…
Even you have got to eat. Let's have dinner?
Sherlock reads the message and John clearly mumbles a number. Sherlock isn't hungry.
"Angelo's?" Sherlock asks without answering the message and John nods.
…
It's been months since Moriarty contacted him, but John still recognizes the number.
Looks like a bullet wound to me.
John stares at the text as the patient squirms on the table. John pockets his phone and walks over to the patient while checking his surroundings, but there is nothing for him to notice. He wishes for someone else's eyes, not for the first time, so that he can notice how he's being so thoroughly watched. He watches the patient uncover the wound and he can recognize it came from a handgun. Standard issue. Mid range.
"Just treat it and don't ask questions." The man demands and John shoots him an incredulous look. This is new. He'd heard of doctors being threatened by men bleeding out before but he never imagined it could happen to him. It wants to make him laugh. "If you know what's good for you," the man starts to threaten but John takes out his phone and turns away. Lestrade picks up and John starts to talk when the man shouts and makes a move for John. It's laughable, this man is doing nothing to help his wounds and his skill gives him nothing to stop John. He uses his free hand to redirect the man's sloppy punch as he shifts the phone.
"Lestrade, listen, I've got a patient with a bullet wound that's probably a suspect somewhere. My clinic."
John feels the phone buzz but he drops it onto the table as he leans back. The man has now gotten blood on a decent amount of equipment.
"Stop." John commands "Or I'll be forced to use force." The man glares as he tried to move again, so John steps to the man's outside and delivers a nasty hit to the side of his neck. The man howls in pain but can't do much else to harm John so John sits in the room until he can hear the sirens.
The phone buzzes again and as John glances at it the man takes that opportunity to try and run from the room. John lets him, and smiles as he runs straight into two of the Met.
Lestrade has a few words with the other two officers before moving into the room to check on John.
"I think this actually has nothing to do with Sherlock." Lestrade gives a half shrug. "So, congrats on solving your first independent case." John narrows his eyes for a second before starting to giggle as he realized the joke. Lestrade straightens, "We actually have been looking for him." Lestrade confesses, "and had he chosen any other doctor he might have gotten away."
"I doubt it." John replies as his phone buzzes again.
"Sherlock?" Lestrade questions, "he can't possibly know." John swallows and doesn't look away from it.
"Who else?" Lestrade shakes his head as he leaves but John doesn't get the phone right away. There is only one person it could be. Moriarty.
He looks like he's getting angry, dear Watson
It's not really Lestrade's area
I've heard that before
John looks from the open door to the phone, and then to Sarah's very concerned face hovering in the doorway.
"John?" she questions and he grimaces.
"Can I get some uh, cleaning supplies?" He looks from the mess the room has become to her face again and she nods.
"Sure." She looks both horrified and resigned and John looks to the phone again to feel it vibrate.
How exciting, you continue to prove interesting. I'll be seeing you soon.
John rubs his face with his hands and only stops when Sarah knocks on the door again. John tries to convey his gratitude but it comes off as something that has her turning away and closing the door.
…
"I have no idea what he wants with you," Sherlock lies as he reads the messages on the phone John has handed him. "But he wants you." Sherlock doesn't want to admit that it bothers him, but he can't really disguise it. "This has nothing to do with me." Not anymore. Sherlock has apparently failed his test, but John is passing all of his.
There is a moan that breaks the silence and John grits his teeth before he takes his phone back from Sherlock and heads upstairs. Sherlock shakes his head as he fishes his own phone out of his pocket. It appears they've both got their own person to deal with now. Sherlock opens the phone to see he's got quite a bit of messages from her lately. He opens the last one.
I'm not hungry. Let's have dinner.
…
"Give him my phone?" Irene questions defensively as he nods. She clutches the phone tighter as she holds it against her chest and Moriarty tilts his head.
"Instead of our mutual friend's American social security number," Irene doesn't show any response to him knowing, if anyone would be able to figure that out it would be him. "I'll change it to John." Moriarty says and she shifts.
"John?" She's angry, her eyes have narrowed and she's come forward off her chair. "And how long until he guesses that?!" She has to protect this information. He had followed her plan before and it was working, why would he change this?
"He won't." Ever. At least Moriarty can admit Jim's weakness for Johnny boy, Sherlock won't even acknowledge it. Irene clenches her phone tighter but Moriarty sounds so confident she is able to relax. Her kitten knows and trusts this man and they both owe him her life. He wouldn't steer her wrong.
"Can you guarantee that?" She leans forward, the phone now in between them. Moriarty realizes the move as her permission and he smiles.
"Yes."
"Would you place a wager on it?" She smiles and places the phone on the table between them. Moriarty can't help but think he can never give Kate one better than this. Instead of merely a pawn, Kate has given him someone who can think for herself and yet, isn't so confident she won't accept help from him. It is refreshing not to have to do everything himself anymore.
"I would." She nods.
"How?" She leans back in the chair again and Moriarty looks her up and down. The jeans and T shirt give nothing specific away but his gaze settles on her fingernails, which no doubt she made Kate do. He can't believe some of the things that Kate likes and how he would gladly kill anyone who thought to do half those things to her. Irene notices his lingering look on her nails and straightens her fingers. Her other hand comes up to rest under her chin. Despite Kate's constant say so, Irene is always surprised when Moriarty discovers more about her though seemingly insignificant details. Kate picked the color and applied them, but she wonders what it will tell the other about herself.
"It's Christmas." He offers and she blinks before looking down to her pink nails. Kate wanted them pink for Christmas so Irene let her do a different pink every week until then. That's fascinating, but not what he meant. "It'll be a gift for him."
"John?"
"Sherlock." He answers as if obvious. "Same shade as your lipstick, unconscious association, but one that will lead him away from John." She smiles, she always wears this shade.
"And Sherlock will try to solve it because I've sent him a puzzle?"
"No. He'll try to solve it because he'll think you're dead." Moriarty opens the phone to change the password and send a text
"Oh, goodie, I've always wanted to fake my death before."
"Well, now it seems it is your time to die."
"Don't be dramatic." She playfully scolds, but she is grinning the entire time.
…
Kate is horrified at how well they've made the body look like her Mistress but Irene is amazed and won't look away. Kate is once again reminded of how dangerous the pair of them are as Irene and Jim share a smile and she wonders what would ever happen to someone if they hurt her. It makes her feel safe to be honest. She tucks her feet under her and snuggles into the chair Jim said was for her
"Such a shame she had to come in on Christmas," Irene says as they watch Molloy uncover the body, "she is a cutie." Moriarty watches Kate nod and switches the camera to the hall where they watch Sherlock take the cigarette a few minutes later.
"Does that mean he liked me?" Irene asks as Kate shrugs but Moriarty doesn't reply, he watches Sherlock take it and knows John will not be going out with his girl that night, they'll search the flat for drugs and come up empty and Sherlock will compose as he fruitlessly tries to think of the code.
…
Dinner?
John stares at the text as he leaves the clinic as he misses Moran and the other man approaching him.