Spring Break (iamsherlocked/James Moriarty)

Jim groaned loud as he felt Sherlock's teeth grit in his skin. No doubt that one left a mark. He was panting as he slid out of Sherlock, getting rid of the condom and collapsed next to him on the bed.

"Yes, yes that was great." He managed to say, his voice still raw from what just happened. Jim had completely forgot about his flight, he couldn't even tell what time it was, all that counted was lying next to him right now.

Sherlock looked at the ceiling, basking in the warm feeling of ecstasy radiating through him from his orgasm. All he could think about is how much he'd been missing out on, not having sex before or doing anything of a sexual nature.

"Jim, thank you." Sherlock glanced sidelong at Jim, sincerity apparent in his voice, "Thanks for being my first."

Jim's breath slowly began the take in a more steady and calm pattern. His head was still spinning in the aftermath. He could feel Sherlock's seamen getting sticky on his stomach, but he didn't seem to mind much. He was blissful.

His eyes cornered, looking at Sherlock and a sincere smile formed on his lips. He was touched by Sherlock thanking him for what he'd done. "It's been a pleasure." He said, pouting his lips and quickly kissing Sherlock's.

Suddenly something called reality hit Jim again. "What's the time?" He said, a certain kind of panic hidden in his voice. "11.47am? Shit!"

Sherlock had to hide a smile that wanted to creep across his face, this had been part of his plan from the beginning. He acted, looking concerned and sitting up. "What is it Jim?"

"My flight leaved within an hour." He grumbled rather annoyed. "There's no way I'll get to the airport in time. I still need to pack."

Jim had jumped off the bed already, pacing to the bathroom to clean off his stomach and putting clothes back on. "This isn't good. My dad's going to be furious." He said, still doing an effort to pack his bad.

"Can't you get on a later flight?" Sherlock inquired. He got off of the bed and went to the bathroom to clean up and get clothed as well. A tinge of guilt was hitting him now, he didn't want Jim's father to be mad at him, he just hadn't wanted him to leave. But what could he expect honestly? When he came back out he tried to swallow his pride and apologize, a couple times he almost got himself to do it but couldn't quite bring himself to it. After a couple minutes he just walked over to Jim and asked in a slightly guilty tone, "Is there any way I can help you?"

After a few minutes of desperately trying to pack his clothes, Jim began to realize it wasn't worth his energy anymore. He sighed, annoyed as he threw the shirt he was holding down and kicked his bag aside. Jim sat down on the edge of the bed, burying his face in his hands as he pictured his dad's reaction.

He looked up as he heard Sherlock's voice. "No, no you can't do anything. Thanks though. It's the only flight going until Saturday night." He smiled, trying not to sound as upset as he actually was. Jim's dad was completely merciless when it came down to these kind of things. He'd without a doubt beat the hell out of Jim as he came around next time.

Jim picked up his phone and typed in the phone number of his father. After 3 dull beeps a heavy voice spoke from the different side of the line. "Dad, it's me, Jim." He began, plucking his jeans nervously with his free hand. "I.. I overslept and missed my flight." ... "No, I didn't went to a party last night." ... "No I- dad please stay calm." ... "I'm sorry, alright?" ... "No. just... what? NO!" "Yes. Goodb-.." Jim sighed as he hung up the phone. "Bastard." He muttered.

Sherlock sat down next to Jim, he had to admit to Jim what he had done. "Jim...I-I purposely distracted you so you'd miss you flight...I'm so sorry, I didn't think about how your dad would react." Sherlock couldn't look at Jim, he just couldn't do that to himself. "I'll leave now." Sherlock got up, and strode towards the door, hoping Jim would call him back but at the same time couldn't stand the idea of staying, Jim must be furious with him.

Jim's face turned to see Sherlock. He could clearly see guilt on his face. Moriarty scoffed loud. "Oh isn't that great?" He said, anger ringing through his voice. He couldn't believe Sherlock would actually do something like that, clearly a wrong assumption seeing this stranger had just done so.

Jim wasn't stopping Sherlock from walking out of the door. He needed to be alone, to think about his feelings and the way they acted around eachother.

Sherlock left, feeling terrible, which was odd for him because he didn't often feel emotions deeply. He walked hurriedly back to his dorm, not wanting anyone to see him. How could he have been so stupid?! He really felt like he hated himself in that moment. He had just given his virginity away to someone who would probably never want to talk to him again. He decided he wasn't talking to anyone he didn't know and not leaving his dorm except to go to the library and get food. When he got back to his dorm he put his key shaikly into the lock and once inside bolted the door, falling onto his bed and burying his face in the sheets. He didn't want to think, breathe, or exist. He just wanted to get high and sleep.

Jim sighed as Sherlock left, feeling rather bitter on the inside. A few hours later he found himself booking the next flight. He had to go home if only it was to avoid him dad taking his rage out on his mother.

Without saying goodbye to his new found lover, Jim had left. Was was supposed to be just 2 days, had turned out to be the whole week. He wasn't allowed to go back until school begin again. Jim missed Sherlock, he wanted to apologies, to just go and hide in between his strong arms. He doubted he would even want to see him again after he returned. Jim had been too hard on him.

As the week passed, Jim returned back to school. It was very late on that Sunday night as he walked over to his dorm. His eye was still black and the remains of a split lip were visible. It was raining, storming outside as he crossed the ground. His eyes trailed up, only one light came through the dark. Jim knew Sherlock's dorm was located at that exact spot and before he could do anything, his feet had already changed direction, making his way up to Sherlock's room.

Jim was drenched as he knocked on the door, waiting for a reply.

Sherlock heard a knock on his door. He was sitting at his desk, his arm leaning on his right leg, he had just shot up, finally getting the drugs he had been looking for all week. "Go away," Sherlock slurred. "Unless your Jim." he had been saying this all week to anyone who had come knocking. He even refused to see Molly, who he was usually okay with. He still felt absolutely miserable and lost and angry and confused.

Jim sighed and smiled at the same time. It was good to know Sherlock was in there, not accepting anyone but him.

"Yes, Sherlock. It's me." He spoke up, making sure Sherlock recognized his voice. Jim was shaking cold from the rain and nerves about seeing 4Sherlock again. Impatiently he kept his eyes burned on the door, ready for it to open.

Sherlock sat up with a start. He hadn't actually expected that Jim would come calling, at all. He got up quickly if not a bit clumsily and headed to the door to unlock it. When he opened it and saw Jim's face and soaked body he was automatically concerned. "Jim, what happened to you?" He ushered the boy in quickly and steered him over to the bed, sitting on the edge with him.

Jim smiled when his eyes met Sherlock. He had missed them, he had missed Sherlock terrible. Jim couldn't even understand how he was able to miss someone he barely know so badly. He sat down on the bed, unable to take his eyes of Sherlock.
"Storming outside." He pointed out, explaining why he got all drenched. "As for my face.." Jim hesitated a bit. "Dad." He muttered, not wanting to say more on the concern.
One day he'd get this man back for everything he'd done...

"Fuck!" Sherlock hissed, putting his head in his hands. It was his fault Jim had received such severe beatings from his father. "I'm so sorry Jim...it's my fault. I should have never made you miss that plane, I don't know why you came to talk to me." Sherlock was shaking a bit, the heroin was kicking in and he was starting to feel floaty. A deep pit of dread and misery in his stomach became a black/blue bowl which then because Jim's black eyes. Sherlock shook his head, trying to concentrate on the situation at hand. "Do you need some clothes, a cuppa?" He looked up, his eyes watery.

Jim noticed the strange changes in Sherlock's behaviour, not sure whether this was just because he was angry. "It's alright." Jim whispered, trying to sound reassuring.

" I came here because I missed you. Because this week apart had driven me crazy, I just needed to be with you." Jim confessed. He politely declined Sherlock's offer for tea, all he needed was right next to him.

"I missed you too." Sherlock said quietly, "I thought after what I did you wouldn't want to ever see me again." He reached out and put his hand on Jim's leg reassuringly.

Jim looked up at Sherlock. The guy's pupils were nearly popping out of his eyes. "Strange" Jim thought.

His hand slid down, placing it over Sherlock's one on his leg and squeezing it slightly. "I enjoyed last week." His voice soft and honest. "Don't feel guilty for it."

Sherlock looked down, it would take him awhile to truly forgive himself. "I really enjoyed last week too, I wish it could have lasted longer." Sherlock was starting to feel sleepy, but he fought against it. His head bobbing forward in sleep and then snapping up again, trying to stay awake.

"Me too." Jim whispered as he looked down to his own knees for a few seconds. When he craned his head back up, he saw Sherlock nodding off. "Are you okay?" He said a bit worried, moving his free hand up to cup Sherlock's face.

"Yeah I'm just.." Sherlock didn't want to say it, but knew he had to. "I'm just high." He sighed, looking up at Jim, "I'm sorry."

"You what?" Jim's eyes widened a bit. "What have you taken?" His voice still sounded worried. Sherlock clearly did more then just smoking a simple joint. He wouldn't be off the planet like this if he had.

"I shot up," Sherlock slurred, "I just couldn't handle everything, after what I did to you, and thinking you'd never want to see me again, and my own insane thoughts. I can't be me all the time, it's too tiring." He lay back on the bed, letting out a sigh and looking at the ceiling, not wanting to meet Jim's eyes, knowing he would yet again be disappointed by Sherlock.

"What?" Jim exclaimed, moving back a bit to allow Sherlock to lie down. Jim was most of all worried, knowing the dangerously effects of this drug. He didn't want to make a scene out of it right now though, Sherlock could snap into a bad trip and he wouldn't understand at the moment.

Jim sat next to Sherlock, letting his eyes scan over his body. Pinpoint pupils, clearly. Very slow breathing. Jim shook his head before he let his own head rest on Sherlock's chest.

"I'm here now." He whispered, listening to the slow beats of his heart. "And I'm not going away. But you can't do this, Sherlock."