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

He could feel the pleasure trembling under Jim's skin, it was making his heart speed up again. They were in this together, he knew that those things one could not fake them, the bond they had created was real. Surprisingly enough, he wanted it to be, he knew he couldn't live without it now.

He leaned against Jim, his forehead resting on his shoulder, he was overwhelmed by the feeling of exhaustion that took over pleasure. "I think I need some sleep... when was the last time we slept?" he asked, his voice rough, he sounded thoroughly fucked.

James was left panting with his head thrown back. He wanted to say so many things; How he loved the feeling this gave him, how much he loved Sherlock, how he'd never be able to live without this man anymore. But all he could do was give the other a satisfied smile.

Slowly he pulled himself out and got rid of the rubber. Still panting he now locked his eyes on Sherlock's. "Sleep?" He mumbled. Now he came to think about it, they hadn't been sleeping since their flight to Canada. With everything going on and the time difference the occasion never occurred. "A while ago, indeed." He replied while nuzzling his head into the detective chest.

With a deep sigh of happiness he closed his eyes. "I love you, Sherlock Holmes." he whispered against the other's skin.

When thoughts came back to Sherlock's brain, he was painfully reminded of what the situation was and where exactly they were going. Fear gripped his heart, and Jim's words didn't manage to melt it.

He groaned slightly, pulling away: "We should get dressed first, don't want to scare the staff further," he muttered, he realized his ass hurt quite a bit as he bent to retrieve his discarded clothes, he liked it though. He wondered what that really said about him.

"Sweet words after coitus are said to be only lies provided by hormones," he teased Jim, but one could tell there was a darker mood behind it.

James sighed once more, this time at the fact sherlock was moving away and he was left exposed and cold. "You're right." He agreed as he pulled his pants and trousers back up.

A frown forced onto his face at hearing the cold tone sherlock was speaking in. Annoyed he opened his mouth. "You can call me a lot, sherlock, really, but liar is not one of the names I wish to carry." He replied, his voice equally teasing but somehow serious.

Sherlock moved closer again once he was fully dressed, settling on the seat next to James. "Oh, yeah?" he said back with a smirk. "Jim from IT?" he reminded him, and reached out his hand to grab Jim's, he needed the warmth.

"It's probably stupid of me," he said with a whisper, resting his head on the cushion, looking strangely shy. "But I believe you..."

James rolled his neck to face Sherlock, eyebrows clearly frowned. "That was not lying." He defended himself. Sherlock was pushing his own luck by saying these words here. James had done everything for the detective, he even shot his best friend in order to save his life. How could he even say James was a liar?

Rather pissed off at everything he rejected Sherlock's hand and pulled his own hand away. He was not taking this.

Stupid? Stupid to believe James's words? Those words were cutting through his ears. Unbelievable that after all of this, this man could still say those words. James huffed and nodded his head slightly. "I guess we all do stupid things." He said cold, referring to even coming with Sherlock and leaving Sebastian alone in some god forsaken hospital.

Perhaps it was the stress and lack of sleep from the previous days talking, but still Sherlock had pulled the wrong string here. James turned his head the other way, resting it on his hand.

Sherlock realized he had said something wrong when it was already too late, but Jim's words managed to irk him nonetheless. "That was not lying? Creating a different personality of yourself is not lying?" he snapped, his voice quickly lowering, he didn't want the whole plane to hear what he was saying.

"I am sorry to think that sleeping with the enemy is not exactly what one would call smart," he protested, he couldn't believe Jim was angry at him now. "You have to admit that dating the person who made you fake your death wouldn't be considered sane by many people," he muttered, and settled farther away from Jim, petulant.

"It's acting." He simply pointed out. He really wasn't in the mood for all of this, not now, not here. Once they'd be in London things were already getting hard enough.

James slowly shook his head, still not believing his own ears. "Since when do you like to compare yourself with /most people/?"

He noticed Sherlock moving away and felt rather sad compared to the wonderful feeling only minutes ago.

"Right acting," quite a good excuse if he had to say. He was tired though, he didn't want to argue even though his thoughts were aggressive to say the least.

Sherlock frowned at Jim's rebuttal, he didn't expect him to argue with that. "I don't care about what people say, people always talk, they do little else," he protested and groaned, looking at the ceiling.

"But I don't know how to explain this to myself, it's not smart, it's not me, it's... pure irrational feelings, and it's not what I am used to..." he muttered, and bit on his lower lip. "And how am I supposed to explain this to John if I cannot even explain it to myself?"

James really wasn't in the mood to pull out an argument on this. They could endlessly argument anyway since there wasn't much they agreed on. Sherlock could praise himself lucky for James's mood at the moment.

He huffed a little at the detective's words but kept his eyes stubbornly staring into the different direction.

"Well, easy peasy isn't it." He said after a few seconds. "If you can't explain, then don't."

Sherlock frowned at the suggestion, could he really go and meet John and not say anything? "Are you suggesting I keep silent about our relationship?" he asked, grey eyes moving to settle on Jim's frame, he wished he could read his mind in that moment.

Seeing him look away brought so many questions to the detective's mind. What were they doing really? Where was this going?

"What if John asks me to stay then?"

It kept silent for a few painful seconds and James needed the time to straight out his thoughts. His mind was working slow because of the lack of sleep. Then he turned around slowly and looked Sherlock straight in the eyes. His own eyes looking emotionless, he had banned every bit of anger, sadness and devastation out of his mind and body.

"Then you should do whatever that pretty brain of yours tells you to do." He said monotone and turned his head again to look the other way.


((LOL how did we even get into this drama again XDD ))

Sherlock felt his whole body grow cold at Jim's words, his eyes, so empty, so distant, it reminded him of the times when Jim was just his enemy.
He didn't like it. It made him think that maybe it had all been a game, that it had all been fake.

"I am asking you... I am asking you what you want to do... with me," he protested, his hands shaking. "Where are we going with this? What do you think we can do?"

He groaned, leaning back on the seat. "I just want to know what I can tell him..."

(( I swear I didn't do it on purpose XDD I guess it's the curse of the five posts, they can't be happy for more than five posts >> ))

James shook his own head slightly, he could feel himself shaking for whatever reason there was left. "You don't need my help." He said, still as cold. "In the end you'd just do whatever /you/ want.
You wouldn't care for my words." He bit down his own lower lip to muffle a little growl edging through his voice. "I could wrap them up in the nicest paper and present them to you on a silver platter." He paused for a second or two. "And you'd just reject them." His shoulders moved up a but in a shrugging movement.

Then he turned around to face Sherlock again, a trail of a tear left on his pale cheek. "Tell him the truth or tell him a lie." James swallowed loud and visible. "God damn tell him a fairy tale for all I care." His voice was now filled with anger and it raised just a little. His lips were shaking and another tear fell down over his quickly heating cheeks. "What are you asking me Sherlock?" He couldn't help but smile a bit when he asked that. "You know my intentions. You know I wish to be with you more then anything in this fucked up world." Nervously he licked his own lips before continuing "It's only /still/ the question if you want the same. Once you can answer that while looking me in the eyes, you'll know what to tell /your little pet." James felt angry, jealous, sad, unloved and every other possible feeling adding up to that list.

Sherlock was taken aback by the ammount of emotions that bloomed on Jim's face, it was a big contrast to his previously cold expression and it stabbed him like a knife in the heart, making him hesitate for long, thoughts drowning his senses for a long moment.

What was happening?
Jim didn't make sense any more.
But he was hurt, clearly hurt.

"You are jealous," he exclaimed finally, his lips pursing in a thin line. "You are jealous and you aren't thinking..."

He looked at him, his eyes becoming blue as the light in the plane changed, it was sunny outside now.

"I listen to you, I would have never slept with you if I hadn't listened. And I care for you, I wouldn't have travelled to Canada with you if I didn't, I wouldn't have taken care of Sebastian if I didn't," he explained, his words were fast, like when he deduced things.

"I know you want to be with me, you told me in all possible ways, and I said I would like the same... but what will actually happen? We are going back to London now, my old life is there, your old life is there, we could easily be what we used to be... but what we used to be wouldn't allow us to be together..." he sighed, his eyes closing for a moment. "So what are we going to do? Are we going to leave again? Are we going to run forever or is there actually a plan you have in mind?"

"You followed me because you had nowhere else to run. You cared for me because you had no one else to care about. That's why, Sherlock. Once back in London you have someone to care about, things to pick up on and run over to everyone who needs you." He explained his fear, his fear of Sherlock actually picking everything back up again and leaving him behind.

Sherlock looked at him angrily: "Don't you dare assume things about me, Jim. If I said I did something for a reason, I did it for that reason and not because I had nothing better to do," he hissed, his eyes were intense. "You are being insecure, and I understand, but it's highly unproductive."

"I was under the impression that couples didn't just decide things separately, I was under the impression that couples worked for solutions together, created a future for themselves..." he continued, his voice shaking a bit. "The idea of going back to my old life is no doubt appealing, but my old life is not waiting there for me... I have nothing to go back to, and I had no intention to go back anyway... I have an obligation towards John, but I wanted to think that there was us after that is completed... us... me and you... I was hoping we had a future to work for..."

"And what if those couples can't agree on something?" He said with a shaking voice. He didn't had a plan, he had nothing backed up. He used to have Seb, but that bastard was lying in a hospital on the other side of the world. He had nothing at all.

"I don't have a plan." He admitted, shrugging slightly. "But I need to rest now." He said as he clicked the button on his seat to move it backwards. He turned his back to Sherlock and closed his eyes, thinking until he drifted off.

Sherlock was silenced by the question. It rang painfully in his ears.
They usually break up, he thought, his heart clenching in his chest.

"Is that your way of breaking up with me?" he asked, his voice shaking, he had really thought they were past this, he had thought Jim had understood his feelings.

He wanted to sleep too, he needed rest, but his heart was beating fast in his chest and his thoughts were raging, they didn't let him relax.
Sherlock was used to staying without sleep, but he felt so exhausted in that moment, watching Jim turn his back at him.

"No I'm not breaking up with you." He mumbled. He didn't even knew they now officially were an item either, so he was a little surprised Sherlock labeled them so. Breaking up just wasn't an option, resting was, at least for now. His mind needed to be shut down in order to think straight. He didn't want to end up saying the wrong things after all.

Sherlock let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, his eyes finally closing then as he rested back on his own seat.
He wanted to touch Jim, he wanted to feel his warmth, but the man was clearly angry at him and didn't even want to talk about it.

He reached out his hand and rested it on the other's seat, just a few millimeters from his back. Enough to feel his warmth, but not enough to touch him.
It was good enough, he thought, slowly falling asleep.

James had fallen into a restless sleep for a few hours. When he woke up he turned around, seeing Sherlock still asleep next to him. He looked so peaceful and innocent. James smiled slightly and stretched out his hand to softly stroke through those dark curls. He regretted his earlier behavior though he was too pride to ever admit that.

The hostess, still clearly scared of him came around to tell him they would be landing in
40 minutes.

Sherlock woke with a start when he felt something touch him, eyes were wide for a moment before he realized it was James.
"Mm... hi..." he mumbled, looking at his hand for a moment.

He yawned, slowly thinking about all that had happened the day before. God, his life was complicated nowadays... all filled with feelings he could hardly comprehend.
How could people survive this?

"Feeling better?" he asked, trying not to sound too worried.

"Ssshh. It's only me." He whispered, still stroking through Sherlock's lovely curls. How ironic it sounded though, /only me/ Most dangerous man on earth stroking your hair, no need to panic. He smiled at his own thoughts.

"Yes." He said confident. Sleep was all he needed back then and it refreshed his mind. "You?" He knew Sherlock tend to dwell on these kinds of things, so he hoped the detective at least felt a little better as well.

His eyes narrowed slightly, moving restless on the other's face for a moment as he decided what to reply.
"I don't need that much sleep," he said, even though it wasn't a real answer to his question.

He sighed, slowly sitting up, the doubts from last night were still there, but he did no wish to argue, he didn't want Jim to decide to leave.
"Coffee would be nice..."