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

He turned round to face sherlock, his eyes had ran dark en he was clinching his teeth. "It was the first person I ever killed." He said, his voice was raw and lowered. "Everyone after was just to keep myself satisfied." He shrugged, in a swirl of emotions he had just told Sherlock something no one knew.

"I was 18 years old, sherlock. All I had were feelings. It wasn't until then I decided to be... /this./" he explained. He sighed deep and closed his eyes for a few seconds. "Not that you care." He whispered

(Yes I have seen it, seems like a lovely idea. I am on my phone once more and I am very busy so once I'm home I will reply to everything else )

"You decided to be a consulting criminal to spite your father?" he asked, and shook his head, his hand coming up to massage his brow. "I fail to understand how killing someone could keep you satisfied, but there are things about I will never understand, I reckon," he added, trying to wrap his head around the new pieces of information.

He raised an eyebrow at Jim's not that you care.
"I do, in fact, care. I find it extremely interesting to know what has driven you into your... instability," he said with a vague movement of his hand. "It is quite relevant to know psychological motives..."


((No worries, I was just checking you got it ^^))

" No doofus, I became a criminal consultant in order to be respected. To have control,power. To be /appreciated/. " He knew his explanation sounded contradicted to most people, but this and only this was the reason he did it.

He felt naked and exposed once he had explained sherlock everything. He was completely undone, and he felt extremely uncomfortable.
"I never told anyone this before." He mentioned. Taking a few hesitating steps towards the bed.

"Power, control, oh so overrated," he said, making it rather clear that he found it extremely boring. "What are you going to do with all that power then? What do you need it for? I don't suppose you are trying to make it for your future family..."

He looked at him in disbelief: "You didn't?" he asked, even though it was rather obvious it wasn't something one would be proud of. "I am sure you are already aware of the fact I won't tell anyone," he said, in case Jim was worrying he wouldn't keep his secret.

He thought about it for a moment. "Is this what they call a bonding moment?"

"It's not the power, more the need to... Uh nevermind Sherlock." He sighed knowing that he could be explaining this a million time without sherlock seeing the point of it. He walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I don't care if you tell anyone." He said. Knowing he could easily put up an act to make it sound as if sherlock gone insane once he told anyone. He let himself fell back while he sighed. Digging in his past had made his mood drop completely.

"Bonding? Yes, I suppose it is." Once thinking about it he did realised sherlock was right.

"I am curious, you should explain," he said, his hand absent mindedly reaching out to stroke the other's hair when he laid down.
He didn't really think about it, he just did it.

"Very well. So I should tell you something important about myself as well? I reckon you probably know everything Mycroft knows..." he said, biting his lower lip in thought. "But there are many things he does not know..."


((oh, we have a Sherlock for the John/Jim, if you want Jim to come in and have a small heart attack go ahead XD you can move Molly too, I reckon just like what she says in the actual episode it's good ^^))

"It's more the feelings of people reckon I exist." He said, and he wasn't going to explain any more than this. Beside he had already told Sherlock waaayyy to much.

"Mycroft did tell me.. a lot." He said while thinking back at that time. Sherlock'd older brother had told him nearly everything he knew about him. Childhood memories, things he caught Sherlock doing, the way Sherlock thinks... But Jim imagined Mycroft wouldn't know the dark secrets he had. "Go on then." He insisted, listening interesting.

He loved the fact Sherlock's hand was running through his hair, it calmed him down and somehow it felt familiar.

"Mycroft always had an odd perspective on my life," he said, his fingers still threading through the other's hair as he talked. His voice was distant though, it always got that way when he spoke about himself.
"My darkest period..." he started, and looked ahead, trying to remember the details. "My addiction to cocaine was at its peak, it was not just a game to make my head go faster any more."

He took in a deep breath. "I passed out in my flat. No one realized I was gone. Mycroft found me after three days. No one looked for me."

He shifted a bit on the bed: "I guess it's not very interesting... but I was always alone... No one ever really tried to hurt me... because no one was there at all..."

As he listened careful he slowly came to face Sherlock. He didn't interrupt him, like he usually would. Once he finished he placed a gentle kiss on the detective's nose.

"Seems like both of us were alone." He whispered. Sherlock didn't had anyone until he met John. Moriarty was the same, he'd been alone because no one understood him. "What made you stop?" He asked curious. Quitting a cocaine addiction wasn't an easy thing to do.

"I am sure people would notice if you were gone," he said with a distant look on his face, his eyes were strangely dark.

"What makes you think I stopped?" he said, a look of surprise on his face. "It's easy to substitute one addiction for the other, nicotine patches helped with that... but there are days I go back to it either way..."

He frowned: "I used to at least... I guess I have been too busy recently..."

"I am gone now, Sherlock. Not even one message on my phone." He pointed out. Not even Seb had left him any kind of message. It made him feel kind of empty inside for a few moments, but he managed to push that feeling away.

"I have never really experimented with drugs." He admitted. In his past he had used some soft drugs and tried some of the more dangerous stuff, but he had always kept himself inside the safety zone. Though, he had used a lot of different drugs on others. Especially his custom made one, the one Sherlock took the other night. But it was completely harmless.

He new turned his body towards Sherlock's and wrapped an arm around his middle. "Busy.." he absent minded repeated.

"They think you are dead, it's rather obvious they don't contact you," he pointed out, and laughed a bit. "Should we check whose funeral had more people at?" he joked, his arms wrapping around Jim in return, pulling him closer.

"Drug addiction is a result of my sheltered upbringing... or that is what psychologists say," he muttered, as if it was excuse enough for why they were different in that. "Drugs were the only excitement for me... for a long time..."

Sherlock tensed up a bit: "I've been very busy destroying your organization... I started... killing people... I have never done it before... not so... straight-forwardly..."

"Funeral?" james repeated to himself once more. "Sherlock... I didn't even have a funeral." Not that it bothered him, who would attempt it anyway? Other criminal organisations? Sebastian? Perhaps miss Adler would have, if he knew she was still around somewhere.

"It were the only excitement because you never allowed anything else to excite you." Sherlock pushed everything aside, he never allowed anyone or anything to even get close. Not that James did, but he allowed himself to have fun every now and than, no matter how sick his ideas of recreation were.

"And did it ever made you feel better? Killing them?" He asked, running his hand over Sherlock's cheek.

"Oh," he said and couldn't help feeling a bit stupid, he hadn't thought about that. "I guess that is the toll for not being part of the angels," he muttered, and couldn't help leaning towards Jim's touch.

"It's not like that," he protested, pursing his lips slightly. "I just don't find normal things interesting, and it's awfully hard to relate to people who do find those things interesting... I used to be perpetually bored Jim, and not just because I didn't partake in sexual activities," he muttered stubbornly.

He ended up burying his face in the other's hand, nuzzling his palm just slightly. "No... it just made things worse... because now I know I am not part of the angels any more... I don't belong anywhere..."

"I guess.." He murmured. He never really saw the use of funerals anyway. Half of the people attempting them never liked you. The other half are people who weren't close. Distant family, people who barely knew you. And than there was a handful of people who actually cared. Overrated.

Jim narrowed his eyes, thinking about Sherlock's words. "I wasn't just talking about sex." He pointed out. "There's so much more to keep the brain distracted if you allow just a tiny bit of feelings." He shrugged. "But you're right. I wouldn't understand, as I mentioned, drugs weren't much of my thing." He smiled ever so gently.

His thumps ran over the detective's cheek. "You'll always be my angel." He said half joking, half serious. Gentle he placed a kiss on Sherlock's lips. "Feeling better?" he asked, trying to move on to a lighter subject.

"A tiny bit of feelings, you say..." he muttered, and bit on his lower lip, thoughtful. "I was never really prone to feel things, it's just the way I was raised... I was rather sure I did not have a heart until you decided to burn it," he said honestly. "I was always under the impression that other than my mind prowess, I was always quite a lacking human being."

Sherlock couldn't help the soft laugh: "Aren't you quite odd, falling in love with an angel?" he asked, he was trying to tease, but at the same time, the theme was rather raw.

He nodded: "Much better, thank you. Your repentine reaction was essential to my quick recovery."

Jim couldn't help but laugh at Sherlock's comment. "Odd yes, but since when did you assume I liked "Normal"?" He playfully answered. "I'm always an exception." He added while laughing, mostly to himself.

"Good." He whispered. He was happy Sherlock recovered so well, he didn't even want to imagine if thing's didn't turn out this well. After all he managed to do /something/ good without pissing Sherlock off first. Or confusing the hell out of him. "That's good." He repeated once more, absent minded.

"I think you just like the challenge..." he said, and he was dead serious. "It must be much more exciting to seduce someone who seems to be utterly uninterested..." His eyes moved to the rest of the bed, slightly embarrassed. "The question is what will happen when you've succeeded."

"I still have to get used to the... eating without being probbed.." he admitted, and moved to lay better on the bed. "John spoiled me."

"I do like the challenge, yes." He could not deny it. But his intentions weren't as bad as Sherlock assumed. Nothing would happen after he succeeded. He wouldn't let Sherlock fall, he wouldn't even hurt him. "I'd celebrate my victory asking you out for dinner." He replied, slightly smiling knowing Sherlock hated those things.

He moved a bit away when John's name was mentioned. Quickly he lowered his gaze, hoping Sherlock did not see the jealousy flickering through his eyes. "I bet." He replied cold.

"I was under the impression the common way of courting was to have dinner before seducing someone," he pointed out, rolling his eyes a bit. "I am rather sure I heard girls in films saying things like 'I don't put out unless I get offered a dinner in a nice place'..."

He was suddenly aware Jim had moved away, and he quickly replayed what he just said in his head. John. He had not liked him talking about John. Jealousy. Rather common.
"I will have you know John has never entertained sexual expectations towards me," he said, his shoulders tensing up instinctively. "We were just friends. But being he was my only friend, and he took care of me a lot, I do tend to mention him often."



(There is something about how you make Jim jealous, I love it so much <333)

He really had to carry on about that pet of his? He probably knew how much it angervated him.
In an impulse reaction he completely moved away from Sherlock, sitting on the edge of the bed. Sex.. As if sex was all he cared about. "What doesn't matter if John showed you every corner of the room or not?" He snapped. This wasn't about Sex, this was about feelings, trust and being close to someone. John had the key to Sherlock's heart, something he could only dream off.

"Mention him all you want." His voice was cold and full of jealousy. He didn't like hearing that name, hearing how caring and lovable he was. He wanted to be that for Sherlock. He wanted Sherlock to trust his eyes closed. But nooo, complicated Sherlock needed to be alert and suspicious all the time. He sighed. What did it take to convince Sherlock he wasn't up to anything but loving him?

Wrong move. Wrong words. Upset. he thought blinking, he had managed to make worse, and he was genuinely surprised.

"I... I meant..." he frowned, trying to put order in the things he wanted to say. "I meant it is rather preposterous to be jealous of someone who had no interest in me whatsoever," he protested, his hands itching to reach out for Jim, but he wasn't sure he was allowed to.

"And I just wanted to make sure you knew the reason I mention him is because he was a big part of my life, not because I still think of him..." he added quickly.

He heard the stutter in Sherlock's voice, was he actually aware of Jim's feelings at this point? Hearing his poor excuses for mentioning John, he indeed was. "I'm not jea...Whatever." he protested. There was no point in denying or arguing about this. Sherlock would win anyway because he was jealous.

Did he misunderstood Sherlock? Did the detective really stated he wasn't thinking about John anymore? He did mention him so he must still think about him. Perhaps not the way he used to. And if so, was this because he made him forget? His own feelings mixed up and confusions pumped through his own body. Silent he sat on the edge of the bed, trying to figure his own mind.

Still not working, he thought sourly, what was he supposed to say? He really wasn't good with words, not when they had to do with feelings anyway.

"Jim," he said, reaching out one hand and squeezing the other's shoulder tentatively. "I am jealous of you and that Sebastian guy you mentioned before as well..." he wondered if that would help at all.

Sebastian... The name struck straight through his heart. So much it made his chest hurt. He wondered about him for a second. He only knew he was keeping Jim's business alive even though jim was still operating on his own as well. He often thought about Seb, but he decided not to do anymore since he found himself missing him. He turned around, looking at Sherlock's hand before glancing over at Sherlock. "Moran." He spoke his name in such a way it sounded as if he was calling out to him.

"He was.. is.. my sniper, my best hitman. My right hand." He explained. "Yesterday you asked me to tell you what it took to destroy my network. You asked me for a name. Sebastian Moran is the answer." He changed from being emotional to rather bitter through the words he just spoke. "Go on. Destroy me." He said before standing up from the bed and walking to his by now common spot on the window.