Chapter 32: Misconceptions.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!

The jaws that bite, the teeth that catch!"

-Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.

Not long after John had sent the text, Jim slammed the door open, and stalked over to the couch, where John was reading a book while he waited. The ex-soldier looked up. Jim was dressed in one of his immaculate suits, and he looked furious.

"What the hell did you mean, come home? You make me sound like a dog."

"I didn't want to talk to you over the phone," John said exasperatedly. "So I asked you to come home. Of course it wasn't an order, Jim. I know I have no power over you."

"No one has power over me," Jim muttered, and those words touched something inside of John, a piece of an unacknowledged puzzle that was slowly becoming complete.

"You came," John pointed out mildly. "That should mean something."

"And what does it mean?" asked Moriarty, mockingly.

"It means you trust me, for one thing," John said. Moriarty's face didn't change, but John could sense that he wasn't following, so he slid one hand under the couch pillow and pulled out his Browning, watching Jim's expression twist into displeasure, and then pleased surprise. "It could have been the last straw. I could have decided to kill you."

"Are you going to?" He sounded almost eager. That wasn't normal. But then again, he was the only consulting criminal in existence. What was there to compare him to?

"Of course not. I think we already settled that."

"Why not?" Jim screamed the second word. "You can't save me, you can't change me, I go against everything you believe in, you were perfectly willing to give up yourself to kill me before, so why?"

"I want to be here," John answered calmly. "Is that so hard to believe?"

"No, don't give me those lies. I know there's a reason, there has to be. You're trying to get information out of me. You're working against me!"

"Jim, listen to me. Of course I'm not working against you. Yes, I object to your work. No, I don't want to change you. For some unbelievable reason, I like you. Unpredictability, colour-coded personalities, mood swings, masks, I love them all. Understand me?" Jim had frozen in mid-step, staring at John intently.

"You weren't lying," he said.

"No, I wasn't," John agreed. "God help me."

"Oh, you're far out of God's territory now," Jim said darkly, and came closer to him, eyes fixed on his. One hand caught in John's hair, fingers tangling in the strands to pull his head back, exposing his neck, forcing their eyes to stay together. "Who knew it could be so easy to steal one of His angels?"

"I'm far from an angel," John said, smiling slightly.

"Sherlock would have argued with that." The smile dropped a bit.

"Not if he saw me now, he wouldn't."

"True." Jim let John's hair go, but John kept his head up to look at the other man. There was something electric about his eyes, otherworldly. Reflected within them, John was no longer sitting in his flat in Brewer's. He was somewhere else entirely, floating in a pool of darkness, within Jim, hyper-aware of him. It didn't matter where he was, amid a group of kids, or in the middle of washing dishes, when their eyes met, there was only them.

"Are you done being suspicious of me?" John asked. Jim hesitated before answering with a smile.

"Probably not."

"Ah, well." John would have been shocked at any other answer. The pause in between the question and the answer was enough for him. It was more consideration than Jim would have given anyone else, and they both knew it. "Try talking before you jump to the weaponry next time, alright?" His hand drifted to his throat, where the cut made from Moriarty's knife had been covered in white gauze.

"No promises."

"Try talking."

"Alright, fine, I'll try to try talking." John eyed him skeptically. "Pinky swear," Jim said over-seriously, holding up his littlest finger. John rolled his eyes, but hooked his finger into Moriarty's.

"How did you know that I wasn't lying?" John asked. "You sounded so certain."

"You're incredibly transparent, Johnny. But mainly, when you're hiding something, you—ah, no, I'm not going to tell you. You'd be able to stop doing it."

"You could have just said that you weren't going to tell me," John said hotly. "Instead of leading me on like that!"

"Yes, but you're so cute when you get angry," Jim said with an easy grin. "You're like a little hedgehog." John blinked at him slowly.

"A hedgehog?"

"Yep. Spiky hair, and squinty eyes, and a cute little nose," Jim singsonged, reaching out and brushing a finger across John's nose.

"A hedgehog," John repeated unbelievingly.

"Now you're just being unnecessarily idiotic, John. Stop repeating the same words over and over. Say something interesting."

"You're insane," John said. Then what he had just said clicked in his head, and he started laughing. Jim stared at him in surprise. John met his eyes, and then started laughing again. "Sorry-it's-just-" he took a deep breath, and started up again. "Not-really-funny-oh-god-" Jim started laughing as well, his giggles rocketing past John's on the musical scale. The dark-haired man sat down beside John, and both of them waited until their laughter died down, gasping for air.

"Alright, what was that?" Jim asked with a grin.

"It's just that-" John almost started laughing again, but he pushed down the hilarity of the situation. "The things that strike me as insane, they're completely backwards. If you put salt on your pizza, or think I look like a hedgehog, you must be insane. If you go out and murder an innocent woman, someone who used to be my friend, you're just being Jim."

"I would say that you were insane yourself."

"Or I wouldn't have come here," John added, remembering Jim quoting Alice in Wonderland at him, all those months ago.

"We're all our own special kind of insane," Jim said. "I wouldn't worry about it."

"Thanks, Jim. It means a lot, coming from you," John said half-sarcastically. The two men shared a smile. Then Jim's fingers snaked out to touch John's throat, the doctor hesitantly allowing it. The criminal mastermind carefully tore the tape holding the gaze against the cut, and lifted it off. Then they both sat there, John staring at the ceiling patiently, and Jim staring at the angry red line he had made that morning.

"I don't regret it," he said suddenly, and then shut his mouth with a click of teeth on teeth. "I mean, I don't regret it. But I wish I hadn't done it."

"That's as close to an apology as you're going to get, I think. I'll take it." There was a faint pause, while Jim's fingers cautiously moved over the raised line that had been made by his knife. "And Jim?" John added, still staring at the ceiling. "I forgive you." The other man withdrew his hand, and John looked over at him, their eyes meeting.

"Thank you," Jim said, and smiled like a child seeing snow for the first time. "Thank you." John simply looked back at him for a long moment, trying to decide what he was being thanked for. Perhaps it didn't matter.

"You're welcome," he said finally, and that was all that needed to be said.

A/N: These boys are NEARLY as close as they're going to get, on the platonic side of things. Only a few more secrets left between them, which will be coming out very soon.

Does everyone still remember that first lunch they had together, when Jim asked John "Why did you come here to meet the man you hate most," and because John didn't have an answer, he said that if he DID find an answer, he would tell John something he'd been wondering about for a while? Yeah, so, if everyone remembers that John found the answer thanks to Sammy, but hasn't told Jim yet? Just hold onto that for a while longer, it'll come in handy in a couple chapters.

Your reviews are better than chocolate-peanut-butter ice cream, and ask any of my friends, that is saying A LOT. *takes a bite of said ice cream* So review, because they make me SO happy, and when I'm happy, Jim's happy, and when we're NOT happy, well... Bad things tend to happen.

Exams are next week, so studying is obviously my priority, but if I can spare an hour, I'll post the next chapter. Wish me luck!