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

"You and I both know that's not quite true, honey."
He needed Sherlock to break down, before he could built him up again. He was planning on tearing down the wall he had built around him.

"Every inch of you is silently screaming out his name. Screaming out how much you miss him." He brushes off some little dust that settled down on his suit before carrying on. "But there's no one answering your crying out. Because they can't hear you. Because they have forgotten. After waiting, and waiting, after desperately looking all over for you... They gave up."

He was calm, but his voice sounded dramatic and sharp, as he spoke the words he just had.

Sherlock didn't let his thoughts run free, he didn't want to listen to what his soul was screaming for.
He slowly turned towards Moriarty, watching him for a long time, taking in all the information he could get, it was going to be useful.

"What is it to you?" he asked finally, trying hard to hide how much speaking about John was actually affecting him.

He was not going to get manipulated, whatever crazy purpose Moriarty had at the moment.

"Have you come here to talk about John? It is an awful lot of miles for such a boring subject."



((Heading to bed, will reply in the morning <33 *is loving this*))

Boring? -James let out a short obnoxious laugh- "Sherlock, honey, when are you going to stop denying yourself?" His eyes now locked on Sherlock's again.

"But you're right, I'm not here to talk about that /pet/ of yours. No no no Sherlock, I'm here to melt that ice cube in there." -he stretched out his hand and bopped his finger on Sherlock's chest, at the exact spot where his heart was.

Burning it out clearly didn't work, well.. It was great but now he had to change strategy.

((Same here! You're a great Sherlock! <3 Goodnight! ))

Piercing eyes travelled on Moriarty's face and body, the man seemed more relaxed than usual, probably less busy nowadays, but he was also intent, stubborn, about what though, he had no idea.
What he seemed to imply was just preposterous.

Sherlock didn't react well to the touch, he stiffened at first and then he was grabbing the other's finger away from his chest and in a swift movement pulling Moriarty closer so to be able to speak in his face.

He stared into his eyes. He had to clear a few things up.

"You broke all I was, don't expect to find anything to burn," his words were hissed and dangerous.
"You have no permission to touch me," he spat, letting go of his finger and moving to lean back against the window.

(good morning <3)

He kept a slight grin on his lips, his eyes not leaving Sherlock's for a second. A warm feeling filling his stomach as he felt Sherlock's hand grip onto his finger. Though, on the outside, he remained calm.

"Since when do I need permission to do anything?" He whispered, letting his eyes run over the surface of Sherlock'd face.

James remained silent for a few minutes. Thinking... About the man next to him.

"Let me fix you. Put your pieces back together." He stumbled out, quietly. He knew he broke Sherlock, but he /had/ to do so. If only the detective wanted to understand.

(Evening! Sorry for my late reply. <3 )

Moriarty's eyes were clearer than he remembered them, but Sherlock had no time to dwell on that, because all the strength he possessed had to focus on keeping him steady, calm.
There was anger burning in his chest at the words, at the insinuations, his blood was screaming, but he was ice outside.

"You are playing with fire, Jim," he whispered, eyes blazing: "The only reason I haven't killed you yet is that I need you for my plan."

He settles against the car door: "But I can always change my mind."

The scenary outside had turned to city line, but Sherlock only noted they were half-way there.

"I do not want you to do anything of the sort..." He snapped, willing his anger to subside. "But I honestly doubt you could, even if I let you."

"Tell me you haven't come all the way here just to say something so... preposterous," he said with a sigh. "And irriting."

"And I wouldn't mind getting burned." His voice now changed back into his playfully tone. He shrugged lightly, unlocking his eyes from Sherlock's. He knew Sherlock was boiling on the inside, it was just a matter of time before this cold wall started to melt down. And time for once wasn't a problem at all. James Had all the time in the world.

He gazed out of the window, a mixture of open fields, sloppy flats and in a distant view skyscrapers passed his eyes.

"I do not want, I do not want" - He repeated in a higher voice. "Sherlock honey, I do not want the earth to revolve around the sun, but there's nothing I can do about that." His eyes rolling up for a moment. "I'll give you some decent reason's when the time is right. Just relax now, you do seem to tense." A worried expression, half pretend, half meant, wrinkled on his face.

An eyebrow rose at the answer he received, Moriarty seemed to be even madder than he remembered. He couldn't possibly think the other was properly interested in him.
There was nothing proper in Moriarty, he was rather sure.
But why was he here?

"I forget sometimes you are a twisted twisted man," he says, more to himself than anything. He knew he couldn't really say differently about himself, but that was a whole different matter.

Anger slowly flared down, and he looked at Moriarty curiously, one part of him was almost amused. "You haven't done your research, Jim," he muttered, looking outside. "I do not care for the solar system," he had a grin on his lips for a split second, he remembered John trying to teach him basic astronomy.
He just remembered John though.

He sat back, trying to relax, but he really couldn't.
"What I want... is what creates my reality at the moment," he added a bit more silently. "What I want and do not want should worry you," it was a menace.

And so James managed to keep John in Sherlock'd head. Urgh, it's always John, john john. He sighed deep, knowing it would take a lot more effort than he thought. But he'd travel the whole world for Sherlock. It's not like he had better things to do now, anyway.

"Sooo... Your plan hmm?" he said, curious as ever. He ignored it at first, but coming to think about it, he might wanted to know more about that.

A smirk curled the side of Sherlock's lips, but it was quick to disappear.
"My plan, yes... you are here for that, after all," he commented with a quick glance.

"I would like to know how you survived first," he changed the subject, genuinely interested. "I knew you'd find a way, it's the reason I texted you in the first place, but it seemed unlikely even for you to survive a shot through the head."

"But then again I never shot myself" He added quickly, not giving Sherlock the chance to carry on. "I knew you wouldn't do any effort to examine my body closer, since you had enough on your mind yourself. There's never been a bullet fired, you heard the bang and saw the blood. You missed everything in between." He decided he gave Sherlock more than enough to wrap his thoughts around.

The distant skyscrapers suddenly weren't as distant anymore, James noticed.

"It also seems unlikely for one to survive a fall like that, but here you are, alive and kicking." He added playfully.

"I imagined as much," he hummed, looking at their destination approaching, a tall skyscraper, an hotel in the middle of Roppongi. "I really did not take the time to inspect your body, very silly of me," he added, frowning a bit as he thought back to that time.

He had thought about that moment many times, trying to remember everything, trying to notice anything more that he hadn't already.

"Unlikely, very," he confirmed, eyes sparkling mischievously. "You haven't sought me out however, I am surprised, were you mourning me as well in the last months?"

"No." He said, sounding colder than he had intended. He changed the tone of his voice quickly. "I didn't had to mourn you. Because I knew you were alive." He shrugged, bringing back memories as if it only happened yesterday. "I knew you'd contact me, though, I was surprised it took you this long." His eyes traveling through the car, to end up staring at Sherlock again.

The tone surprised Sherlock, and he looked at Moriarty for a moment. He wondered if he could really pull this through.
He took in a deep breath and focused again.

"How did you know, then? You felt it?" he joked sarcastic. "It would have been lovely if you were the one forgetting me, you know."

"I did not contact you for the pleasure of it," he pointed out, "And I was not looking forward to it... boredom is not a plague of mine any more." Quite a difference with his old self, he almost didn't recognize himself any more.

"Look at yourself, Sherlock. You're a mess. You used to know which way to turn, now you're lost.- He smirked a bit as he heard his own words. "This is a black and white of you I found. You feel so sorry for yourself... Don't." He shook his head, having to control himself not to touch Sherlock. He wanted to run his hand over those cheekbones, stroke them. But he managed to control himself.

"How did I know? If I'm able to fake my own death, honey, so are you." Was all he had to say to that. If only he could tell Sherlock the real reason behind this all. If only he could tell him this was just part of what he had plotted all along.

Sherlock looked at him coldly, his eyes darker than usual.
"Aren't you happy of what you've done?" he asked, because if he was like this, he owed it to Moriarty.

"I thought you were surrounded by idiots, I thought I disappointed you," he pointed out, looking outside as the taxi stopped. They were at an hotel, the Prince Park Tower, he had booked a room especially for this.

Happy? -he simply shook his head pressing his lips together. -He didn't had the time to explain any further as the taxi stopped. He offered the taxi driver a fair amount of money, nearly triple the amount they were supposed to pay. He just winked at the man, who seemed euphoric.

"Stylish, you sure know what I like." Moriarty observed the hotel lobby. "You did this all for me?" Now he was just teasing Sherlock, trying to relief some of the tension that managed to built up during that taxi ride.

Sherlock slid out of the taxi, not even considering paying for the ride, money was still something quite abstract for him.

Long legs quickly found the pavement and the way to the lobby.
He didn't wait for Moriarty, he knew the man would follow.

"Of course. All for you," he replied with the same tone.

The man at the reception recognized him and perked up.
"Sumisu-san! Welcome back! We are very glad your guest arrived as well! We moved you to the honeymoon suite," he said with a rough accent, handing them a key card.

"My friend would like to have lunch, could you bring it up in fifteen minutes?" he muttered amiably, acting.

"Very well, sir," he bowed, looking at Moriarty briefly.

-He stood watching the while thing evolve. He nodded friendly at the man welcoming Sherlock. Though, he had difficulties fighting off a smile as he mentioned the honeymoon suite. James found himself biting on to his lower lip and quickly let go of the flesh that started to get sour. He once more nodded as the man bowed and they walked towards the elevator.

"Your friend? I see I've gone up in your ranking then." He pushed the button, calling the elevator. He decided to keep his "honeymoon" teasing for when they'd entered their room, it would be much more appropriate.

Sherlock was watching Moriarty's reaction subtly as they moved towards the elevator, his hands burying in his trousers.

"You prefer boyfriend?" he asked innocently as they stepped inside the cubicle, as if there was nothing wrong with the picture. "They are going to assume that anyway."

He thought it was the perfect cover for two men spending time in the same room, he was clueless to the implications.

-He looked towards his own feet, smiling ear to ear. When he looked up to Sherlock, however, his smile wasn't that bright.- "Boyfriend sounds just perfect." He shrugged, as if he didn't bothered at all. He was surprised Sherlock was able to think in this kind of way. It only made his realize he wasn't completely unaware of these kind of things.

The elevator opened up a few times, making it pretty crowdy. James found the perfect excuse to go standing close to Sherlock, leaning his shoulder into Sherlock's upper-arm slightly. Pretending he had to scratch his cheek, he brushed his hand against the detective's.

25th floor, the sign signaled. He also took the advantage of pressing his chest into Sherlock as he made his way out. He then allowed Sherlock to lead the way to their room.

Sherlock looked at him with a twitch of curiosity, the smile was a bit unsettling, mostly considering how much it used to aggravate John to be mistaken for Sherlock's lover.
Moriarty clearly did not have this kind of limitations.
It was good news.

"Perfect," he said, it was the perfect cover after all. "It might be rather unrealistic for an international business man to be that open to hotel staff however."

He felt those tiny touches, his skin was sensitive to human warmth, but he did not flinch, he did not read anything into it.
Sherlock truly was clueless about certain things, he could see them only as useful devices.

He glared at him briefly when he felt the other's chest against him, he was rather sure that had not been necessary.
He decided not to comment though, walking on and opening the door to their suite.

"You sure did surpassed yourself this time." He said, smiling as he entered the room. Roses formed a heart onto the extraordinary sized bed. The room was light and big enough to have another 5 people in it. He inhaled the perfume of the room, thinking this was even better and Sherlock gave him the perfect ammunition to carry on with his plan.

Sherlock closed the door once Moriarty was inside, privacy was going to be essential.
He noticed the roses on the bed and glared at them pointedly.
"Such unnecessary cliches," he commented with disdain, but did not do anything about it.
He just moved towards the window, slipping his jacket off his shoulders and settling it carefully on the back of a chair.

"Important room for one who used to be an important man," he commented then, his voice somehow mischievous, Moriarty had to miss his old life at least a bit.

/Used/? - he picked up. "I still am. I didn't need to die." He copied Sherlock's actions and slipped off the blazer he was wearing.

"Richard Brook, however, did die. For now." While talking he took a seat into one of the chairs. Crossing his legs and leaning into it. "Finally alone" He said quiet.

James never had to give up his job at all. He decided to keep himself low profile and undercover, though, not to give some people the wrong impressions. Sebastian Moran had taken over most of the cases they were on, giving Moriarty time and space to move about. Though, he did miss some of the attention. He occasionally felt lonely, but so did Sherlock he figured. Well, would he? Does Sherlock Holmes feels things like emptiness? James got lost in his own thoughts for a moment.