Chapter 42: Magnetic.

"For you see, so many out-of-the-way things had happened lately that Alice had begun to think that very few things indeed were really impossible."

-Lewis Caroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland.

"Jim, you can't be serious."

"Well, I am! Come on, just once, just try it!"

"It's ridiculous. I'm going to look ridiculous."

"No, you won't, I promise. You can't just wear jeans."

"I could."

"I won't let you."

"I wish you would."

"Don't be a wet towel, John."

"This is insane."

"So are we. Go and put it on. I'll wait here."

John reluctantly turned and made his way down the hall and into the bathroom, shaking his head at Jim's stubbornness. In one hand, he held a black bag. Inside that bag was a suit. A suit that Jim was insisting he wear to dinner tonight, simply for his own amusement. John sighed heavily, for the fifth time in as many minutes. This was ridiculous. He reached the bathroom of Jim's flat, and swung the door shut behind him with a foot, since his other hand was holding a pair of black shoes.

After a second of glaring at the bag as though it had forced itself on him, he unzipped it. Westwood. Tie, shoes, jacket, trousers, all the same brand. John turned his eyes heavenward. Considering how strongly 'Moriarty' and 'Westwood' were connected in his mind, wearing the suit out would be the equivalent of letting Jim sign his name on John's forehead. And he knew the consulting criminal knew it.

"I hate you!" he called out, knowing Jim could hear him in the bedroom where he waited for John's emergence.

"Love you too," Jim called back, and John laughed softly, shaking his head. The words didn't even register.

Fucking hell, there were Westwood socks? John stripped down as far as necessary, and then slipped the socks on. Wow. High quality socks were actually really nice. He stepped into the trousers, which fit his legs perfectly. Of course Jim knew his measurements; he hadn't really expected anything else. Shirt, buttons done up, tucked into the bottoms, belt buckled. And then came the jacket, and slipping into that felt like putting on a full-body mask. He could do anything in this, with the smooth fabric all around him, loose enough to allow movement, but tight enough that it felt like an embrace.

He bent to tie on the shoes, smoothed his hair, and took a deep breath. Then he looked in the mirror. The suit was all dark colours, black jacket and trousers. It made his blonde hair and grey-blue eyes stand out, so that he contrasted himself. A paradox to himself, an almost poetic look. He had to smile.

He left his clothes on the floor and he exited the bathroom, walking down the hall, back to Jim.

He came into the room, and the criminal mastermind turned. Jim was dressed in a light suit, white shirt and grey jacket, the style similar to John's. His hair was slicked back in typical Moriarty style, which John always wanted to throw water onto, so that it hung down like it had back in his kitchen, so long ago, after the water fight in his old flat.

"Knew it would be good on you. You look good enough to eat." In the dimmer lights of the room, Moriarty's eyes were pure black, focused on taking John in from head to toe. His low voice sent involuntary shudders up John's spine, hairs raising along his arms, a voice passed down from early generations screaming danger in the back of his head.

"Thank you?" he hazarded, brushing one hand along his side, feeling the fabric. Black eyes followed.

"Only one thing to add, I think," Jim said, and reached behind him. On the bedside table, there was a little container of hair gel. "Come here, Johnny boy." John came forwards, and stood in front of his genius. Jim unscrewed the lid, and stuck his fingers inside to smear the sticky gel over them. Then he stepped even closer to John, chests millimetres away from each other, and put his hands into John's hair.

Fingers touched his scalp and dragged upwards, coating each strand. John closed his eyes, half to break eye contact with Moriarty, half to savour the feeling. All too soon, the hands were gone, and John could feel Jim step away from him, judging the spikes he'd put in. "Look at you," he murmured, drawing out the last word until it was almost sung.

John opened his eyes and found Moriarty staring at him. Black eyes and grey eyes caught and held, in the way they always had, almost painfully intense. In some lights, you could see that Jim's eyes were really dark brown, and sometimes they reflected John back at himself, when they stood this close together. But they were black now, and there was no reflection in them, just the gravitational pull of a black hole, sucking John in and downwards, falling, always falling. It was magnetic, it was magic, it was amazing, it was terrifying.

One of them took a step forwards, or maybe both of them did, and like two magnets, they came together. Lips collided, and kissing Jim was exactly what John had imagined (wait, when had he imagined this?), confrontational and dangerous, with the taste of apple in his mouth. John was used to taking control of a kiss, and lips and tongues clashed, almost fighting, but yet working together to create a sense of exhilaration that John had felt before, but not like this, because a voice in the back of his head was screaming that this was Jim.

He knew that he was kissing Moriarty, criminal mastermind, the man behind accidents all over the world, and that was why he fought for control of the kiss. But even better, he was kissing Jim, the Star Wars fan, the man with scars on his arms, who liked his chocolate as dark as his coffee, who couldn't sleep if there was a sliver of light in the room. Jim.

They couldn't balance like that, so close together. So they moved, legs and hips pressing closer, until they hit the edge of the bed and sprawled onto it. John came up on top, and grinned briefly in victory, which was a mistake. Jim immediately brought up one leg, flipping them over and pinning John to the bed, drawing back to grin at him.

"Bastard," John said, but even he could hear the affection in the term.

"Technically not, actually." The criminal mastermind smiled a Cheshire grin and shifted in a way that seemed casual, but John was certain was quite calculated. He bit his lip and stayed quiet, fighting the breath that wanted to rush out in a moan. "Stubborn," Jim said, and leaned down to capture John's lips again. "I'm going to make you scream, Johnny boy," he said against his lips.

"I should probably be afraid," John said, the banter coming breathlessly, and twisted slightly in an attempt to break Jim's hold. Although he didn't succeed, he still got to see Jim's rather exquisite reaction to his movement.

"But you aren't," he said, forcing John's wrists harder against the mattress.

"No," John said. "I love you." Now the words registered, and Jim sat up, letting go of John's wrists like they had burned him. He didn't move, still straddling John's hips, but stared down at him with a combination of shock and anger. "It's not like it's a surprise, Jim. If you have to ask me, do it later."

"Later?" Jim asked, seeming to have trouble refocusing.

"Yes, later," John said impatiently. "Right now, I think you should probably shut up and kiss me." Since Jim still wasn't reacting, John twisted them around again, reversing their positions, and then pinned Moriarty's wrists in the same way he'd done to him, the doctor's stronger build letting him hold the criminal genius down. That snapped him back into the room, and his eyes darkened.

"Don't start things you're not willing to finish," he told John, his accent slightly more pronounced, which John noted absentmindedly.

"I'm not," John said, and then he leaned down. But Jim moved as suddenly as a rattlesnake, throwing up arms and using their shared momentum to slam John into the bedroom wall, holding both of his wrists up with one hand.

"Good."

And then there was no talking for quite a while.

A/N: Now that we've weeded out the non-Johniarty shippers, things can get a bit more interesting.

This chapter is dedicated whole-heartedly to Aliit Vodeson. I thought that I had received the best review I could imagine, and then this wonderful person came along and taught me that there were new levels of flattery and self-esteem boosting. This review will easily feed my ego for a whole year, and for that, I thank you. *bows* Everyone can thank Aliit for the quick posting of this chapter!