Runaway Home

Chp 24

Yet another chapter I won't be editing until later tomorrow, it's a disturbing theme, I know.

"I read."

What was that supposed to mean? The detective couldn't even begin to imagine, he was far too focused on the hand that was coiling around John's throat. The boy was desperately fighting his instincts to struggle, to break away from that venomous hand and run; the detective could only assume it was for his benefit. Idiot! John was always putting himself at risk out of some deep seeded need to be the hero. He recalled the time he'd tried to ban that, who was he kidding? This was in John's blood; he would never stop putting people before himself. That's why it would fall upon Sherlock to never stop being there to save him. That particular task seemed near impossible at the moment though, and it terrified him.

He couldn't loose John now, not when he was so close. Just a few hours ago he'd been planning on wrapping up this case and then dedicating a good solid night to figuring out the perfect way to confess his feelings to his now openly homosexual flat mate. As he watched those fingers dig deeper into John's soft flesh he fought the urge to leap forward and pry the assaulting digits off of him. That would be stupid, he couldn't risk the snipers setting off the bomb, he would have to be clever. He needed to distract the consulting criminal, John had forced him to watch enough Bond movies to know that much.

"You read? How nice you've what? Read up on me, seen between the lines? What makes you so certain you haven't misinterpreted? I know John's blog makes us seem close but he informs me it's a wonderful way to lure in readers. They want to think I'm human, that doesn't mean I am."

Sherlock deadpanned with a stoic expression but kept his body taut and ready for action if need be. Moriarty appeared unphased by the comment but smiled wider. The detective looked over to John quickly to see that he understood it to be a strategy rather than a proclamation. At least that seemed to ring true, however the boy was growing more panicked.

"You don't know. Here I thought I was dealing with my equal! Or is it that you're just too out of the loop? You missed it and you've yet to piece it together because, like me, you're above all that. You don't understand these people's insignificant and highly inconsequential emotions, so you choose not to even bother deciphering it. Oh, well that's brilliant if it's true."

Moriarty purred and his ever tightening grip on John's throat was now drawing out tiny tendrils of blood that made the detective's stomach clench.

"I'm afraid I have no idea what you're talking about."

He said nonchalantly, hoping that Moriarty would favor attention towards the conversation rather than the boy's neck.

"No, of course you don't. Should we tell him John? I'd like to fill him in on the little joke."

Moriarty hummed and brought his free hand up to cup John's face. Sherlock fought against the urge to growl at the contact but he was certain that his lip had twitched upwards for a second.

"You can talk you know, don't be afraid Johnny, you're apart of this too you know. No matter how minor your part really is, it will cost you your life so I suggest you make use of some of your last moments together…why don't you tell your detective what the buzz has been all about?"

The consulting criminal practically cooed into the boy's ear making him flinch. He looked panicked and it only added to Sherlock's anxiety. John's life? Their last moments? This was certainly not what he had in mind and he no longer cared for this case at all. He silently cursed his former self for being so enthused by this man's mad genius.

"Come on Johnny, don't keep us waiting."

Moriarty said a bit harsher and judging by the look in John's eyes an encouraging red dot had appeared on the detective's head.

"I-it said-people had commented on how I…when I was in the student union with Bill, I had-hadn't said I was gay. Not in so many words…I told him, I practically yelled at him, I was-that I am…That I am in l-love with you."

John stammered and panic over took his features along with a deep blush. Sherlock stared at the boy in utter shock. Love? John? John was in love with him? How long? How hadn't he noticed? Everyone else knew and they hadn't bothered to tell him? All those thoughts needed to be ignored for now because if he wasn't careful they would never make it out of here so Sherlock could reveal that he felt very similar.

"It's cute isn't it? Your loyal dog has developed a bit of a crush! I tried to explain to him how foolish that was, men like you and I don't love. We become consumed, and it's with things that remind us of ourselves. That's why we're perfect for each other, you and I, we're just alike, just placed on opposing sides. I almost wish it were different, that we could work together, but then, where would the fun be in that? I look forward to burning you Sherlock, to the grand finale of this game of ours. I'm going to do it nice and slow though, I'll take my time finding the perfect way to take care of you."

Moriarty said with a devilish grin and one final press of his nails into John's neck. The consulting criminal then pulled away and brushed off his suit before walking towards the pool's exit.

"I look forward to our next meeting boys, I really do."

He called out as he pushed open the pool doors. The red dots disappeared and after what felt like hours of pointing his gun at the door he finally let out a sigh of relief. However that didn't last long as he quickly recalled the bomb still strapped to the boy's chest.

"Hold still."

He demanded and strode over hastily to remove the vest. John was breathing heavily as the anxiety rushed out of his body.

"Sherlock…"

John breathed out as the detective removed the coat in a frenzied movement that made the boy spin with its force. Sherlock pushed the coat far away from him and his flat mate as fast as he could. Without a second to spare he then moved to examine John's neck.

"Are you ok? Did he hurt you at all? The cuts don't look so bad, but I'd feel better if we had them examined, he could have had any number of pathogens hidden beneath his nails. John, do you feel alright? How many fingers am I holding up?"

Sherlock babbled and threw up his hand directly in front of the boy's face with two digits straining upward. John batted the hand away and gripped the detective's shoulders tightly.

"I'm fine. Are you ok? You seem very on edge."

John inquired carefully as he looked deeply into the detective's eyes. They stood there for a moment just blinking at each other before Sherlock came to a very abrupt and impassioned decision. He moved his own hands quickly so that one was cradling the base of John's skull and the other gripped his lower back. Before the boy could even register the change Sherlock pulled him flush against his body and thrust his lips onto John's. If he had been able to see John's face he would have seen his blue eyes go wide and his eyebrows shoot up through the ceiling as a deep blush rose to his cheeks. After the initial shock his eyes fluttered closed and he then began leaning into the kiss. Sherlock's fingers threaded through the boy's blonde spikes as he deepened the kiss further. He wasn't sure if he was doing it right but John was responding pleasantly as he'd raised his own hands to the detective's waist.

John's mouth moved quickly and with the precision of a man who'd been well versed, Sherlock held back a multitude of moans as the boy's lips devoured his own. It was needy and reeked of desperation and longing. These two had been waiting for this for so long they didn't know what to do with themselves. Then John, brilliant, clever, perfect John let his tongue slide out to brush across the detective's mouth. Sherlock felt a tingling sensation rush down his spine and opened his mouth fractionally to see what the boy would do. What he did was push that lush tongue of his right into the older man's mouth and begin moving it about in an entrancing manner. Sherlock was certain he did moan at the feel of their two tongues finally coming into contact and wrapping around each other so elegantly that he could hardly contain himself.

John began to slow his pace turning their frantic snogging into languid kisses until he started pulling away completely. Sherlock in an attempt to continue the kiss for as long as possible followed that perfect tongue and held it in place with his teeth before he began sucking it back into his own mouth. It was John's turn to moan as the detective sucked down the boy's tongue whilst rubbing his own on the underside of it. The blonde seemed to be lost in the sensation for a moment and his hips began gently rocking into Sherlock's thigh. Soon the trance was broken however as John caught himself and quickly pulled back. Sherlock looked at him confusedly and with just a dash of heart break. He wasn't sure why the boy had wanted it to stop, it had felt so fantastic for the detective, and John had said he'd loved him. Right?

"Sherlock, that was…bloody wonderful. But don't you think we should probably get a little more distance between ourselves and the bomb over there?"

Sherlock looked over towards the coat that John was referring too and realized for once that it was the boy who was pointing out the obvious.

"Of course, yes. Besides I want to get you to a hospital for those cuts, and I promised Lestrade in my note that I was merely borrowing his gun and would return it before the end of the evening."

Sherlock replied hastily.

"Right…plus I'm sure he will probably want to know we've run into the bomber."

John continued cautiously and with a playful smile he often wore when Sherlock confessed to doing something not so good. The detective then nodded and switched the safety back on the gun before carefully placing it by his lower back, cradled between is body and his tightly fitted pants.

"Yes, of course. We can finish this once we're back at the flat…if that's what you want of course…"

Sherlock said a bit awkwardly as he observed the boy with uncertainty.

"Oh god, yes."

John declared and grabbed Sherlock to pull him down into another kiss. It was quick but intense and when John pulled away he was making his way towards the exit. Finding that he was having trouble processing what had just happened Sherlock stood still for a moment just blinking. John had just kissed him. He and John had just kissed and John wanted more. John wanted more and he had confessed to loving him! The detective blinked some more before shaking his head to clear the fog in his mind and rushed out after the boy. If he was lucky, he might get to do more than kiss him when they got home. The thought sent a rush of excitement through him and encouraged his feet to move at a quicker pace. The sooner they made it home, the better.

I know this scene should have had Jim walking back in and then Irene calling him and blah blah blah, but I decided no. This fic and the time line I'm on leave their encounter with Irene happening much later so it doesn't make much sense to do that now. Any way, this is also a REMINDER that this story is ending super soon, like next chapter or the one after that. However! The sequel will continue onto season two and should be up as soon as the next day so…you know, no biggy.