I am not dead, are you? (SherlockXMoriarty PostRBF)

"of course it was a compliment." He said, brushing his hands over Sherlock's back up to his cheek. He grabbed the man's chin, turning Sherlock's face his own way. "Nice ass." He complimented him before quickly pressing his lips onto Sherlock's.

When he was cleaned up he hopped out of the shower as fast as he sneaked in. getting dry and wrapped a tower around him before disappearing back into the room. No expensive suits today, he said to himself while whistling a happy tune. Jeans and a light blue V neck t shirt should do.

He quickly got into his clothes, leaving the towel lying on the floor since he didn't want to interrupt Sherlock once more. "Room-service" came along with a knock on the door. FOOOOD. His body was craving for anything. He let the lady in, tipped her and sat down on the edge of the bed, admiring the delicious meal before picking up one of the two plates.

((I'll come but I'm not sure if I'll be able to keep up :/ ))

Sherlock started at the kiss, he felt like he hardly had control over anything at the moment, but he could not pull away which was a symptom that scared him greatly.

He looked at Jim as he stepped out of the shower and disappeared, then he proceded to slump against the wall of the shower.
"What am I doing?" he whimpered, this was not what he had jumped for, this was not his self-appointed mission, this was distraction, this was sick.

He sighed, shaking his head and wishing for things to clear up. It didn't work of course, and he turned off the water.
There was no point in dwelling there, that was sure.

He made his way back into the room, looking rather upset, but he acted, like he always did.
"Thank you for waiting for me," he muttered sarcastic, looking at the food and taking up some grapes.


((it's no problem if you pop in just at times))

James patted on the space next to him, gesturing Sherlock to come and sit with him. His eyes following the detectives body, admiring it.

He allowed himself to eat once Sherlock had started as well, picking up a few slides of bread and some cheese. His stomach growling even louder than it had before.

"oh not a problem" He replied sarcastic as well, nipping on his bread. "You don't look as happy as you did earlier." curiosity shining though his voice. Although he didn't quite expect any reaction. Sherlock wasn't one to talk about the things he felt, he'd rather hide them.

Sherlock didn't bother getting dressed just yet, just kept the towel he had around his waist and sat down beside Jim. "I told you I am not a dog," he protested, swatting his hand away and stealing another few grapes. It felt nice to eat something after all the... physical activities.

He flushed crimson when Jim mentioned said activities.
"I am not a happy person in general... am I supposed to be happy you are still here?" he asked coldly, pouring himself some tea.
Tea reminded him of John. And he realized he hadn't thought about him at all in the last 12 hours.
It was not hurt that clenched his chest right then, it was guilt.
Damn it.

"Hmmm but i'd so do you as if you were one." He admitted, not caring whether Sherlock would be put off by all of it. He continued eating, shamelessly about the amount of bread he'd already managed to eat.

"You should be bursting with joy." He said just after swallowing the last piece, nodding slowly. Though, sarcasm once again was edging the tone of his voice. He slipped his hands in his pocket to look at his phone. NO new messages? Nothing? Nada? rahh, he did not like this. he'd have thought at least someone would contact him. Quickly he made his phone disappear again, not letting this upset the good mood he'd received from what happened this morning.

"So, plans for today?" James was up to do something, if not Sherlock, something else around. He assumed the detective would came up with something interesting.

Sherlock was hardly in a good mood. His body felt nice, strong, sated, but his mind was in a bad place, and when he was insecure he ended up lashing out nastily.

"You seem to think I should be happy I copulated with the person I hate the most," he snapped, and placed the tea on the table.

"I was planning to have most of your organization's Osaka cell busted today, I have an appointment with an inspector... I don't suppose you wish to help," he said coldly, he wished to forget about who he had been that morning, cuddling against Jim's side.

"You're only making it worse by complicating things. Time flies by /so/ much faster when you're having fun." He bumped into Sherlock's shoulder playfully, knowing he wasn't in the mood at all. Though, something did tell him that deep down, this was all an act.

He sipped his own cup of tea, over thinking who exactly was in his cell at this part of the world. Barely ever active, he recalled.

"Oh but I'd be delighted to come with you." He replied, this time far from sarcastic. He'd love to hear was this so called inspector had to say.

Sherlock decided not to comment on that, mostly because for once in his life he had no idea what to say.
For now he just wanted to forget the fact that he cared for Jim Moriarty.
He knew it was logical and scientific, sharing an orgasm with someone created chemical reactions in a person brain so to ideally protect the offsprings.
He had never thought he'd be this weak though.

He needed to make this pass.

"Very well, you know I will just kill them all if I don't get the police to bust them, right?" he said dryly, he was dead serious. "I guess it's a good opportunity to visit Osaka. We'll go by shinkansen."

"Interesting." Was the only reply given. He didn't really care though, perhaps he would have if this morning didn't happen. But right now... No.

He turned his face away from Sherlock's "Soo, sightseeing huh.?" He smirked, actually liking the idea. Not that /sightseeing/ was what Sherlock had in mind, but that was a detail that could easily be adjusted.

He falls back on to the bed, facing the window and stretching his arms above his head. Lazy bastard, he said to himself.

Sherlock looked at him for a long moment, he wished he could get into the other's head, he wanted to know if there was any trick that he should be aware of.
All he managed with that was to turn himself on though, the urge to kiss Jim boiling in his stomach.
Damn.

"Sightseeing, yes," he repeated, standing up, forgetting about food and moving to find clean clothes in which to slip himself in. Maybe he should just send Moriarty back, maybe that way he would kill his betraying feelings off, and he would be free again.
Free to do what though, pine for John again?

He just sighed, closing his eyes again while Sherlock was in search for clothes. >
The detective was testing his patient, something he didn't have much of any way.
He needed a moment to let his body adjust to the amount of food he had stuffed in it.

Another sigh, and he had no idea why. He didn't like Sherlock being so cold and unemotional, he guessed. Though, that couldn't be the only reason, could it? He didn't even know what made his mood fall down so easily. Perhaps the lazyness that had settled in.

Sherlock slid into clean pants, his mind decided to leave the feelings debate in favour of going through the happenings of the day before. There was something that wasn't quite right.
"You said, I could go back," he finally realized, angrily looking for a shirt. "What would you do if I did? What would you do if I contacted John again?"

He stood up when he found his black shirt, soon he was bottoming it up, watching Jim's reaction. He really needed to stop staring, at the moment he couldn't though.

"I'd just lay here admiring your fit body." He mumbled. What exactly did Sherlock wanted to hear? He wouldn't do a fucking thing? He'd do /anything/ to prevent him from contacting John? But... What would he do?

He indeed did say Sherlock could go back, and he could. It would only mean he'd to figure out a new way to get some private time with this man. New plans on winning his heart. Urgh, John.. He really envied him for being so close to Sherlock. If only he could take that place in the detective's heart.

He turned around, abruptly, not wanting Sherlock to see how this hurt him. Because in all honestly it did. It was another arrow shot through his heart.

((Poor Jim! Don't worry! He's getting there!!))

Sherlock was confused for a moment, he looked at himself and wondered if he was what people called 'fit', then he frowned and shook his head.
"It is utterly impossible to get a straight answer out of you, isn't it?" he snapped, turning towards his bag and searching for a pair of trousers.

"And I am the one who revels in complicated things!" he retorted. Oh yeah, he remembered Jim's arguments from the day before, he remembered everything.

"You just want me to go back, so you can play the game again, find another way to ruin my life," he realized Jim had never been successful like today. Making Sherlock want him, making him feel, it was messing with everything he was.

He glared over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes at Sherlock. Was this man serious? "Oh really? I am the one complicating things?" He snapped back, finding himself rolling over again before he'd been realizing it.

"I've been pouring my heart out here the last 24 hours. I've been giving you everything. I even gave you full insight to my mind. And this is what I'm getting in return? /this/? " His hands motioned something, but he wasn't sure what. He rolled his eyes at the detective, he was fed up giving everything and getting nothing in return.

"When are you going to realize I am not here to destroy you? When are you going to open those hypnotizing eyes of yours and start observing. Perhaps you'd see a whole new world opening up."
As he looked up he was now staring into Sherlock's eyes, standing tall on his feet.

"I am fed up with all of this. I'm fed up with you making me feel things, making me feel loved. Yes... Yes I /need/ to feel loved. But you... You give love then take it away again, leaving me feeling empty." He bit his lower lip in order to prevent shouting.

"I /love/ you, Sherlock Holmes. And that is the one and only reason I'm here. For a moment I thought deep down there you felt the same. Well dear me, I was wrong." He turned around abruptly, not wanting to look at Sherlock anymore. Not even wanting to be in this room. He stormed towards the door.

Why was he even saying this? It's not that Sherlock cared about any of the words he just spoke. Everything he just said, everything he'd been doing, had been in vain.


((Hhahah I feel sorry for Jim!! ))

Sherlock grew angry, his skin itching as he felt blood pump faster, how could Jim accuse him of such crimes?
"You think coming here and jumping into bed with me is showing me your mind? You surely have missed all your sarcasm and teasing you fed me with, have you?" he snapped, his eyes blazing with anger.

An anger that fizzed into smoke as he heard the rest of the words.
"That's not possible," he heard himself saying.

No one loved him.
No one.
It was the only security he had ever had.
No one could love him.

"No one loves me," he thought out loud, his eyes unfocused.
His knees were weak, he could not move.


((Poor Jim!! I really wish Sherlock would stop him from leaving, but at the moment he is too shocked, the way I created him for this RP he has never had anyone who loved him, even with John it was unrequited, so he is too shocked and weak to move... if you think it's unlikely for Jim to stop leaving, go ahead and make him leave... maybe Jim comes back later? Or if he doesn't leave the hotel... Sherlock will look for him eventually))((John on the other hand would have stopped him and snogged him senseless ^^;)

He wasn't even listening to Sherlock anymore. He slammed the door shut. His fist balled and his breathing was panting. Stupid, arrogant bastard. Fucking ignorant, selfish piece of shit. His mind could only think of Sherlock that way at this moment. How dare he accusing him of only crawling into bed with him. He'd even seen him cry. Gnah.

He felt his chest heat up with anger. FUCKING ELEVATOR! He smashed his hand onto the button. once inside he leaned against the wall, hoping no one would join him on this way down.

Stupid sherlock was perhaps already contacting that annoying little pet of him. Next time, he's the one dying. There was absolutely nothing positive coming to his mind at this moment. He needed to cool down.

Once inside the lobby he had no idea where to go. This city was SO big and he didn't had the slightest idea where to go first. He was lost.

(( No worries I totally understand. Though, Moriarty isn't a patient man and he doesn't like being fooled around with. Even though sherlock probably didn't mean to. So I had to let him burst completely at some points since all of his efforts were shot to hell ))

Sherlock sat on the bed for long, thoughts battling in his head for attention.

Jim was gone, he realized. Jim had dropped the bomb and fled. How ironically fitting.

If he was honest with himself though, he'd have to admit that confessing something so scary and delicate was an admirable thing.

It seemed Jim was in love with him. It made sense. If he really thought about it, it really did make sense, especially considering how obsessed the man had been with him.

Sherlock had hurt him.

Jim deserved it, probably, but that didn't make him feel any better.

All he could think about was how dreadful he felt, how troubed he was by the realization they were never going to lay in the same bed again.

Had Jim left for good? Had he given up?

He was being emotional, it never really suited him.

He had to find him, he decided standing up, finding a pair of trousers and walking out of the room.
Even though he had no idea what he would say, he had to tell him at least that loving him was never a good idea.
It was never a good idea to get close to a high functioning sociopath like him.



((I think the drama is quite realistic like this, Sherlock has got many issues, and it doesn't help that he doesn't trust Jim... but Jim already managed to seduce him, and now Sherlock likes him, which is nothing short of a miracle for someone like Sherlock, they are getting closer... I think Jim's struggle is quite fascinating actually, because he is used to get what he wants when he wants it, but with Sherlock he has to be patient ^^ Sherlock has no idea he is hurting Jim, he is completely oblivious ^^;)

He had stood in the middle of the lobby for at least a good ten minutes. People had been looking, but that was non of his concerns. He inhaled deep before straightening his shoulders. He chewed on the inside of his twitching lip before starting to walk over to the door.

What options did he had? He could go swimming, it would at least release him from his physical anger. Though, he would have no swimming pants unless he went back up there.

That thought brought him to another option... Going back. Though, it didn't take him long to scratch it off the list. Going back up to that selfish asshole right now???? Now way.

He could grab a cab and head into town. But where would he go? Would getting lost in a city he knew nothing about be any help at all? He sighed... No, not an option either.

The final thing coming to his mind was leaving, leaving back to englang. Or maybe perhaps ireland. He missed his home town and the clear blue skies it had sometimes. But that would mean giving up for good, letting go of the man he'd build his whole life around. Starting over somewhere new.

But who was he kidding? He wouldn't be able to do either of them. Especially not the last one... He leaned into a wall just outside of the hotel, rubbing his eyes and ruffling his own hair. Tears coming to his eyes. Why? Perhaps because he felt hurt, but more likely because he failed.

(( Yea, I do try my best to think as Moriarty on this one and hoping to get him right, but it's hard. And your Sherlock is just being utterly brilliant sherlock-like! ))

Sherlock looked rather disheveled when he reached the lobby, the staff looked at him grinning, and he reckoned it just looked like a fight between lovers, especially if Jim had passed storming off as well. For the first time in his life he regretted lying, because he felt now pinned by the labels they were applying to him.
He did not want to be in a relationship. He did not want to love. He had had enough of that dreadful emotion while loving John.

He still felt panicked as he looked for Jim though, his heart was dreading the realization the man had left for good.
What if he was not going to see him again?
His heart clenched in his chest and he felt utterly alone.

He went outside, looking around as if he had lost his child, his face pinched in a worried expression.
He sagged his shoulders when he realized he was not there.
Useless, he thought, I cannot find him in Tokyo, I cannot possibly contact my brother to find Moriarty in Tokyo.

He turned around to go back inside, make himself presentable, and it was then that he saw him.

He froze, he could tell there had been tears in the other man's eyes.

God, what are you doing to me.

"Come back inside," he said angrily, trotting over, he meant to just go there, grab his arm and pull him back into the room, but what he did was quite different.

He just moved closer and kissed him.
He pushed him against the wall and kissed him in front of the guests and staff.




((I am glad my Sherlock makes sense to you, I feel OOC most of the times, because in the series he hardly shows any emotion, so it's like argh, how am I supposed to move him XDD 'cause if he doesn't feel anything it's no fun XD))

The time spend standing against that wall was mostly used to fight off the tears and keep his body from leaving. One woman had came up asking if he was okay but he'd just laughed her off saying he'd be missing someone when he'd to leave. She patted his shoulder and continued her work.

By the time he spotted Sherlock he was already walking over. When he demanded him to come back inside, he refused to move. He refused to listen to anything this man demanded him.James opened his mouth to tell him to leave. Though, something inside him was nudging his heart. Sherlock had come to look for him? Or had he just come to make sure he'd left?

The soft flesh of his lips answered that question for him. For a few seconds he returned the kiss, even slightly deepening it. His heart raced in his chest and he got carried away in the moment.
But his mind ordered his body not to do this. One second he was kissing Sherlock, the other he was slightly pushing him away.

"Sherlock." He said, his voice rusty and he had to swallow. He noticed he was slightly shaking and it could both be seen and heard in his voice. "What are you doing?" He asked with a lowered voice.
This was exactly what he'd meant in their previous fight. Sherlock pulled him up before dragging him back down. This wasn't something he was used to. He either got what he want, when he want. Or he got nothing at all. Though most of the time it was the first option. But this, this in between yes and no was driving him insane.

Sherlock was the same. Granted, life never gave him much, but he was more spoiled than people thought. He would always get what he needed, he would always have people bend to his wishes or leave.
So he didn't expect Jim to pull away from the kiss, he did not expect Jim to not understand. And it annoyed him.

"Clearly Jim, I am kissing you," he muttered impatient. He did not like one bit the fear that was pooling in his chest. Would Jim leave anyway?

He touched the other man's lips, refusing to move further away. "Clearly, I am trying to stop you from leaving..."

He looked torn for a moment. "I cannot give you what you want... But this is already more than I have ever given anyone."

He rolled his eyes at Sherlock's obvious answer. Of course he was kissing him. James didn't understand, he didn't understand the way Sherlock's way worked when it came down to these things.

He was torn. Half of his heart was telling him to leave, while the other side was keeping his body exactly where it was. His mind was fighting the same war. He knew this was more than Sherlock had given anyway. He knew this was his way of saying sorry. But was this enough?

"I know." He said softly, plucking on the same spot on his shirt for at least 10 seconds. His eyes searched for Sherlock's. His usual dark, evil eyes were now showing off sadness and doubt. He didn't know what else to say. Everything he wanted to say earlier had vanished. In stead he shrugged to let Sherlock know he was lost for words.

The other's reaction aggravated Sherlock more than he liked to admit, Mycroft used to become silent before leaving him alone, and he couldn't help but believe Jim was about to do the same right there.

"You cannot expect me to want something I have never wanted before... and with you of all people... I am not used to this," he protested, even though he doubted it made any sense.

He took in a deep breath, he wished there was some sort of order in his head, it was confused, it was mad. "I cannot lie to you, it's too important..." he whispered, and then went on: "I don't... love you..." he was trying to keep the panic out of his voice. "But you made me forget about John... you made me feel... you made me feel good... you made me feel accepted... I was happy this morning... it is what scared me to death.... but it scares me more to see you go...." Blue eyes moved on the other's face restlessly.
"Can't you be satisfied with that?"

Still leaned in against the wall he stood still, listening carefully to every work Sherlock spoke. Even though he felt the need to interrupt, he didn't.
He let Sherlock speak until he was sure he'd said everything he needed.
Tears started to fill his eyes again and he felt stupid. He felt weak. Crying was such a supervacaneous thing to do in this situation. But he couldn't stop. Quickly he lift his arm and wiped away the stream of tears that blurred his vision.

Sherlock was happy? He did felt something? Great way of showing so, Holmes.
Inside of his mind he was answering Sherlock, but he refused to say those words out loud even though his mouth did open every now and then. As he heard to questioning tone in Sherlock's voice he nodded while nervously licking his lips. "Yes." he muttered under his breath before stopping Sherlock's eyes from scanning his face by locking his own with them.