Hey there, so as promised here is the weekly update!
Chapter Two: Visitor
Sherlock's phone buzzed yet again. He had a voicemail. John was curious. Of course, he didn't listen to the voicemail, but he looked at the recent calls list. He was surprised there was anything at all. He was even more surprised that his last outgoing call to a number he didn't recognise was one hour and forty minutes long. John took a deep breath, and hit the redial button. It rang for several moments.
"Sherrrrloooock hello!" a lilting Irish voice answered.
No, John thought, horrified, no way!
"Sherlock honeeeeeeeeeeyyy are you there? Oh you've lost your voice again haven't you? Why didn't you just text me? Look I'll come over later when that pet of yours has gone off to work, okay? See you later!" The phone went silent.
Honey? Coming over later? What the hell was going on? John dropped the phone, swallowing sharply, wringing his hands together, as he attempted to compose himself. Squeezing his eyes shut, he rubbed his temples.
Damn it, work!
John's eyes snapped open and darted to the clock. He had a sixteen hour shift ahead of him.
The front door slammed, signalling John's departure from 221b. Sherlock roused himself, emerging from his room, anticipation engraved on his face. He was wearing just a t-shirt, pajama bottoms, and a blue dressing gown. As he shuffled into the small, eclectic living room, he stumbled across his phone, lying in the middle of the floor. Strange, he thought, surprised, I did not leave you there. He picked it up, setting it on the coffee table. His face crumpled into a puzzled expression, as he turned back towards the kitchen.
He set the kettle boiling, and placed a bowl of fresh apples on the coffee table. He surveyed the room, letting his eyes sweep around the apartment, smirking slightly at the yellow smiley face painted on one wall, taking in the bullet holes that his recent boredom had put there. Sherlock glanced at the clock. Jim promised he's see him today. It had been too long, and Sherlock was bored, Jim hadn't even been playing games with him and John lately. It was rather concerning, actually. They had only spoken on the phone once, and even then that was last month. Sherlock sat on the sofa, biting at his lower lip.
He leaned back, picking at a loose thread on his dressing gown, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. Sherlock let out a deep sigh, stretching out, shuddering at all the satisfying pops. Once again glancing at the clock, his anticipation grew. The downstairs doorbell rang.
"Oh hello Jim," he heard Mrs. Hudson say.
She knew about him of course. However, all she knew about him was his name, and that he was a secret.
"Go on up dear, the door should be unlocked."
There was a mutter of thanks. Sherlock's breathing sped up as footsteps made their way up the creaky old staircase. He poured out two cups of tea. The door handle turned slowly, for what seemed like three hours to Sherlock, and finally, through the door clutching a white carrier bag, stepped Jim Moriarty. He was dressed casually, wearing a white v-neck, red cardigan, and black straight leg jeans. His face lit up into a smile when he was Sherlock sitting there, waiting for him. A wide grin spread over Sherlock's face.
"Sherlock," Jim said, his tone full of unspoken emotion,"It's good to see you."
He closed the door behind himself and approached the sofa, settling down beside the taller man.
"I see you made tea," he smiled, gesturing at the cups on the table,"here, put these in yours."
Jim reached into the carrier bag and produced a squirty bottle of honey, and a little container of lemon juice.
"They might just help with your current situation."
Sherlock put the ingredients in his tea, and took a sip, coughing a little at the sharp taste.
"More honey?" Jim inquired.
Sherlock nodded, and Jim chuckled, squeezing more honey into the cup. Sherlock sipped at the now suitably sweet drink. He picked up a pen.
Thank you Jim
Moriarty gazed at the consulting detective, a slight blush creeping up on his cheeks.
"Yeah no problem, " he replied softly.
Sherlock looked down towards the floor before writing again.
You know, you're the only on I let talk to me when I'm like this
Jim read, his mouth forming a small 'o' shape. The blush was now more pronounced on his face than before.
"Really? Why?" he asked curiously. He let his arm drift to settle around Sherlock.
Your voice isn't grating, it's
Sherlock paused, searching for the right word.
comforting
Jim let a giggle slip out.
"Well if that's your way of saying I'm not an annoying little shit, thank you."
Sherlock smiled warmly.
"So...were you worried I wasn't coming tonight? Is that why you phoned earlier?"
Sherlock's face fell.
What do you mean? I didn't phone you
Jim looked puzzled, speechless.
"I got a phonecall from your number earlier, there was no one speaking do I figured it was you."
My phone was lying on the floor when I came out of my room
Sherlock looked at Jim wide-eyed.
You don't think
He hesitated, furrowing his brow before continuing.
John got into my phone?
"He could have, Sherlock...in which case...we are S-C-R-E-W-E-D..."
Sherlock groaned, burying his face in his hands, as he twisted to rest his head on the criminal's shoulder. Moriarty rubbed small circles on Sherlock's back, trying to soothe him.
"Hey it can't be that bad," he murmured into the dark curls,"after all, you're happy with 'us' aren't you?"
Sherlock sniffed, and nodded.
"Well then, what's the big deal...?"
Why was Jim being so stupid? Had he forgotten what they'd been doing besides dating in secret? He hurriedly scribbled.
Jim have you forgotten? The organised crime? The games you set up for us? John...he hates you...a lot. He thinks you have it in for me, that you want me dead.
Jim snorted.
"That pet of yours is so boooooring! I don't want you dead! I just want...you."
He hesitated before adding, "Doesn't he know flirting when he sees it?"
Sherlock silently laughed bitterly, shooting and incredulous look at his lover.
Strapping a bomb to my friend? That was you flirting?
Jim threw his hands up.
"Hey, conventional flirting is boring!"
You are quite the drama queen.
"Queen being the keyword there baby," he smirked, winking at Sherlock, who looked at him slyly through his dark eyelashes.
Jim slid his right hand under Sherlock's chin, tilting his face towards him, and gently pressing their lips together. Sherlock rested his hands on the back of the other's neck, stroking the heated skin. Jim's hand curved around Sherlock's cheek, his thumb grazing the skin as his hands drifted downwards to settle on the curly-haired man's waist. Their kiss intensified as Jim bit down on Sherlock's lower lip, drawing blood. Sherlock pulled back a little, smirking as the drop of blood dribbled down his chin. He picked up the pen.
So that's how it's going to be, is it?
Sherlock leered at Jim, who sucked in a shaky breath.
"Did that not hurt? It looks sore."
I'm fine, if anything...
He paused.
I'm more turned on than ever
Jim choked back the animalistic growl that was building in his throat.
"Sherlock," he strained,"I want you. Right here. Right now. In John's chair. Please."
Why not, Sherlock thought, as lust clouded his judgement, and he submitted to James Moriarty.
As John turned into Baker Street, he cursed himself for getting his work schedule wrong. His night shift was tomorrow. He approached 221b with apprehension. Didn't Moriarty say earlier he be right over once John had left for work? He readied himself, preparing for whatever sight may meet his eyes, if any. Sliding his key into the lock, he silently opened the door. He made his way carefully upstairs, avoiding the creaky steps. Pausing at his front door, he deliberated a thought. He could always just go to the pub for a few hours, feign being at work in order to avoid that confrontation that was inevitably going to happen. No John, he thought face it, face this now and deal with it.
Huffing out sharply through his nose, he opened the door as quickly as he could. He just threw it open, and was greeted by the stench of sex and what a sight. His best friend locked in a tight embrace with his supposed worst enemy. They was on the couch, covered with only a blanket, gently snoozing. Sherlock's head was resting on Moriarty's chest. John barked a cough, and Sherlock's eyes shot open, alarmed.
Thank you for reading so far! Please review, reviews fuel my creative spirit ahahaha. As before, there will be another chapter posted next week xoxo