Sherlock wasn't completely satisfied, but still, he was borderline euphoric as he walked into the flat. John was waiting for him. He grabbed Sherlock and looked him over. He had regretted what he had said as soon as Sherlock had left. He had sent an unstable man off to get laid by God only knew what kind of person.
"Are you hurt Sherlock? Did someone hurt you?" he asked worriedly, looking up at the dark-haired man. Sherlock smiled down at him.
"I'm fine John," he said, "I didn't shag with anyone. I just had a drink and then I got a cab home."
John still looked worried.
"Sherlock… I'm so sorry… I was really too hard on you," John said, "And… I mean… if you really need someone… I would rather it be someone safe."
Sherlock leaned down and kissed John's forehead.
"I'm fine," he told him, and nestled down into his favorite chair, "Could you make me some tea?"
"Of course…" John said, heading to the kitchen. He had to admit, Sherlock seemed fine. He looked infinitely more relaxed, and was even behaving a bit more like himself.
"So…" Sherlock said, "Did Lestrade leave that case here?"
"On the coffee table," John said from the kitchen, "Why? I thought you weren't interested."
"I might as well take a look," Sherlock said, "It can probably be solved in a matter of minutes."
Sherlock opened up the case file and read over it. Mysterious disappearances…Always on the 13th of the month… how cliché, but still, no sign of forced entry or a struggle, that did pique his interest a little. It would be a fine little warm up before he got back into the game fully.
"I'm taking the case," Sherlock said, standing up. John pushed him back down.
"You're not doing anything tonight," he said, "Sit down, drink your tea and then off to bed with you. Doctor's orders."
Sherlock sipped his tea, looking at John from his seat. He was excited for the case. Not as much enthusiasm as he might have for a really difficult case, but John was glad to see him showing interest in his work again. He was really worried he might have to prescribe some anti-depressants to get Sherlock back on his feet, and worse still that Sherlock would refuse to take them.
"Are you going to be alright tomorrow, without me?" John asked. John had taken a few days off to make sure Sherlock was alright, but he really had to get back to work, "I could ask someone to come over, if you want. I know Lestrade would probably be willing to come over."
"That won't be necessary John," Sherlock said, "I'll be fine. I promise."
"Alright," John said, "But if you need something, please, text Lestrade or Mycroft of me…" John said.
"Well, that would depend on what I needed, wouldn't it John?" Sherlock asked with a slight chuckle. His phone beeped and he opened it.
"I'll see you in the morning kitten. 3 – JM"
Sherlock smiled a little, closing his phone.
"Good night John," the detective said, and headed to bed.
In the morning John poked his head into Sherlock's room, finding the man still asleep. He left him a note on the table.
"Don't forget, your client is coming by around 1. If you need me, don't hesitate to call. – John"
Sherlock laid in bed, not really sleeping, listening to John's movements. He listened to the steady footsteps down the stairs and the door opening and closing behind him. He laid perfectly still for a few more minutes, then heard catlike footsteps coming up the stairs. He heard his door opening silently. He rolled over and opened his eyes, seeing Jim, just sitting down beside him.
"You're cute when you sleep, don't spoil it," Jim said. Sherlock obediently closed his eyes and felt Jim's fingers gently play with his hair. He decoded the way he was being touched, the sound of Jim's breathing and detected a hint of sadness. Jim was… afraid. He was afraid that Sherlock could not agree to his arrangement. If he didn't agree, this would be the last time they would see each other; the last time they would touch one another. Sherlock opened his eyes again and looked up at Jim. Jim was looking at his face, a wistful smile on his lips. He leaned down and kissed Sherlock softly.
"Have you had time to think?" Moriarty asked.
"Yes," Sherlock whispered.
"And..?" Jim seemed apprehensive. His eyes were intensely focused on Sherlock.
"I want to be able to lay down some rules as well," Sherlock said, slipping into a more negotiable personality. He sat up, revealing that he was completely nude under his sheet, which lay teasingly across his lap. Jim's eyes followed the lines of muscles down to where the sheet cut him off. His eyes snapped back up to Sherlock's face. He was intrigued.
"And what rules do you intend to lay down, my little kitten?" he asked, leaning forward slightly.
"I want a guarantee that you aren't going to harm those close to me," Sherlock said. Sherlock had thought long and hard about what was really important to him. What mattered? He had an affinity for justice, and he didn't like seeing innocent people hurt, but really all that mattered were those few people that might refer to themselves as his friends. The people close to his heart: John, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Molly… And his family, though they were annoying. He wouldn't want to see anything happen to them.
"Is that all?" Jim asked, looking a little surprised.
"If there is a case, in which anyone close to me gets seriously involved. No matter what you say, I will get involved in it," Sherlock said, "You threatened me with these people, I'm not losing them."
Jim chuckled. He leaned over Sherlock, kissing his lips.
"That's really all you want. The safety of your family and few friends?" Jim asked, "Because now is the time to say if there's something else you want."
Sherlock thought.
"You can't use them to threaten me," he said, "If you want to threaten me, then threaten me, not innocent people."
"And?" Jim asked as he playfully kissed on Sherlock's neck.
"I… I want the ability to walk away," Sherlock said. Those words sent a sort of pang through Jim's body and he visibly flinched.
"It's only a safety precaution," Sherlock explained.
"No." Jim said flatly, "I will not touch your family or friends. I won't use that promised safety to threaten you, so why should you need to walk away? Now do you agree or not?"
Sherlock looked up at Jim. He was so close to him. It made shivers run through his body. If he said yes, there would be no turning back. His body would become the property of Jim Moriarty. It was a huge decision. But sitting there, his sheet barely covering him, and Jim so close, just a simple lean forward and they'd be touching… Sherlock swallowed a nervous lump in his throat.
"Yes…" he whispered, "I'll be yours…"
Jim smiled. He leaned in, his lips touching Sherlock's. They meshed together perfectly. It was so delicious. Jim pushed the sheet aside, baring Sherlock and showing that he was already very turned on.
"You're my little slut aren't you?" Jim whispered in his ear.
"Nnn… yes…" Sherlock whined as Jim ravished his body, "Ah! Jim… please… please fuck me…"
"Oh, don't worry honey, I'm getting to that," Jim said with a smirk.